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The Devil Wears Patricia Field

Shiver me timbers. Yo ho ho and a bottle of Malibu.
What’s with the pirate motif you ask? I dunno…Just trying to figure out how the entire movie-going world can be bothered going to see a flick based on a Disney ride rather than going to play outside. If you must sit in a darkened theatre – and I, for one, must – head straight to DWP.
Duh – Devil Wears Prada!
Finally saw it last night after a couple of false starts, sold out runs, and Dairy Queen diversions. And let me tell you, it didn’t disappoint. Was it a brilliant work of art? Er, no. Oscar worthy? Ummm, a bit of a stretch. A damn good ride? Hell yeah!
When I saw the trailer last week, I knew I’d like it. How bad could it have been, really? Kinda like the book itself – sorta cheesy, but who the hell cares? It’s entertainment. Truth be told, I cannot for the life of me remember if I read the book. I think I did. But I also read The Nanny Diaries, and some other ex-fuax-se about a celebrity tabloid reporter. And they’re all kinda the same for me:young ingenue meets bitchy employer, tries to be “one of them” but remains true to herself by staying one of us. It was one of those books I wished I had written. Except as weird as my years working for a big shot English-gone-Hollywood movie director was (at times), it was never really that book-worthy. Anecdotes a-plenty. Scandalous behaviour? Only if I spiced it.
But back to the movie. It’s the perfect summer flick. And not just a chick flick either. Boys, don’t be afraid: the cinema was packed with your kind. It was actually kinda weird how many men were there. Straight men. Maybe they came to pick up women. Or maybe they were out to revel in their true metrosexuality. Whatever, they enjoyed it too. Everyone there seemed to enjoy it (yep, we had the over-enthusiastic fans near us. The groaners. The whoopers. The worst.).
DWP was an actor’s – and wardrobe person’s- movie. Less a character-driven ensemble piece, tho’ I s’pose you could call it that. No, it was about the performances. These cats owned their roles (for the most part).
First of all, Ms. Streep. Genius! She’s perfect, perfect. It ain’t breaking news – she’s got the ice queen down pat. Hence all the buzz. So nothing new to report there. But did you know Stanley Tucci’s quite the cool queen himself? Divine! I’ve never been a huge fan of Mr. Tushy, I’ll admit. Maybe because I was obsessed with Murder One way back when. He was Richard, the creepy guy who did it. The murder, that is. Remember? Anyhoo, he’s terrif in DWP.
And props (yep, I said props) to Anne Hathaway. Not too horsey, not too doe-eyed, not too keen. She almost broke Brokeback Mountain for me. Made me want to hurl. So it was with extreme skepticism that I approached the theatre. But not only didn’t she wreck the flick, I thought she was quite good. Believable, beautiful, and – that boatnecked-and-buttoned-up combo with the cap and layered necklaces aside – she owned those outfits! Not that the outfits were anything I’d pine for….But they served their purpose – to make Patricia Field a lot of money and keep that Sex in the City trendoid cheese look in our collective consciousness.
Oops. I almost forgot about Emily Blunt: Fab. And Adrian Grenier: Vince. The other folks were forgettable and/or insignificant so we’ll fast-forward over them. Especially fashion-boy-love-interest-guy from that kids’-lawyer-advocacy show that flopped. But you get the picture. So skip on the Pirates in their has-been boho garb and head straight to Prada – if for no other reason than to see what you’ll be wearing this fall.

1 comments:

Anonymous said…

“ex-faux-se” — brilliant! Get Heather Reisman to put it on a sticker and slap it on to “A Million Little Pieces” and on to that plagiarizing Harvard chick’s book, too. You’ve coined a new one, MOAM. Add it to the lexicon!

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