Perhaps sequels inspire suspicion because they have a tendency to disappoint. There has also been a rash of them lately. To name some types at large: the why-at-all sequel (Dhurandhar: The Revenge); the sequel that strays far off course (Freakier Friday); and the perfect sequel that proceeds greedily to a three-quel (Top Gun: Maverick). The question, “Is it better than the first?”, is inevitably — and incorrectly — asked. A part-two doesn’t have to be twice its predecessor. Its only responsibility is to be equal.
By that measure, The Devil Wears Prada 2 has high heels to fill. The 2006 original struck 24-carat chick flick gold, with its earnest protagonist Andy (Anne Hathaway) serving as a beacon for those in “jobs that pay the rent”, and unappeasable antagonist Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) bringing words like “cerulean blue” into everyday speech. A second instalment, in this specific case, is well-earned.
For one, the previous film’s open ending left room to wonder what became of the characters and the kinda-nasty magazine, Runway. Further, the new film’s timing, 20 years later, is exactly how long it takes for fashion to repeat itself.
In a privilege not many long-awaited sequels enjoy, much of the old team agreed to reprise their roles here: Director David Frankel, screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna, and the cast including Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Emily Blunt, and Stanley Tucci. A comprehensive reunion is crucial for a clean and crafty comeback.
For an opposite example, look up the Frasier reboot. The two-decade jump also allows the team to capture the jolts suffered by journalism and fashion, the worlds in which the movie is set, both constrained by demands to produce more for less.
As frightfully elegant as the original Priestly was, the character’s fall from grace in part-two brings fresh dimensions. She is vulnerable now, appropriately for someone closer to the end of their career. Streep employs physical comedy to communicate that tension — a self-conscious flick of her sideswept bob, an indignant shimmy while adjusting her jacket, a gait that goes from composed to cringey. As in the first part, Andy remains a resourceful dreamer. Her character arc, though not as up-and-down as Priestly’s, still rings true — for most reporters, their place in journalism is as demanding and shaky at 40 as it was at 20.
The sequel’s add-on characters only exist to move the plot along and some of them, such as Andy’s Aussie boyfriend, could very well have been edited out. The most notable introduction is Justin Theroux as a bailout billionaire, whom Priestly describes delightfully as “the last piece of wood floating next to the Titanic”. The fast-fashion era, which causes the reel-life editor’s downfall, has affected design sensibilities in real life, too. That fact shows up in how lacklustre some outfit choices in the sequel are.
What continues to sparkle though, in the time of machine-generated lines, is screenwriter McKenna’s pen. Lines like “May the bridges I burn light my way” and “Just hide a feeling for once, please” roll off Blunt’s tongue, while Tucci delivers “She was one of the Emilys” and “Tell me, did your parents hang up all of your stick figure drawings on the fridge?” with the requisite dryness.
The Devil Wears Prada 2 works because it has things of its own to say. A nod to nostalgia, but with enough newness. We enjoyed the exaggerated villainy on screen in 2006 because it did not have real-life consequences. For similar reasons, the sense of resolution the core four characters get in this companion film is enjoyable — we don’t often experience closure in the real world. So maybe the better question to ask at the end of this sequel is: Would you rewatch it when you rewatch the first? For me, the dress still fits.
The writer is a Mumbai-based journalist. Eye culture is a weekly column devoted to subjects such as art, dance, music, film, sport, and science
 "The Devil Wears Prada 2")