Sightlines · how to watch
How to watch The Devil Wears Prada
2006 · David Frankel · The Devil Wears Prada on Sightlines
5 things to watch and listen for on a first viewing, without spoilers, and 4 more once you have seen it. Each names something you can see or hear, the pattern it belongs to, and what noticing it gives you. How these keys work.
On a first viewing
Listen for how quietly Streep speaks when everyone else is panicking. (performance)
Streep never raises her voice. She drops it, so the room has to lean in. Nobody contradicts her, and nobody finishes a sentence she hasn't invited.
Payoff: You hear power as a volume level: the person who commands most is the one who never has to shout.
Notice who walks toward Miranda and who is already waiting. (staging)
Frankel stages the Runway floor around arrivals. Assistants stand, phones drop, bodies clear a path. The hierarchy is blocked into the room before anyone speaks a line.
Payoff: The office tells you the pecking order through movement alone, so the dialogue only confirms what your eyes already know.
Track Andy's sweaters, shoes and coats from her first day onward. (setting)
Patricia Field's wardrobe runs as a second script. Andy's frumpy knitwear gives way to sharper silhouettes, while Miranda stays in white hair and luxury tailoring and Nigel in studied elegance.
Payoff: You can read status and change of heart off clothing, which means every outfit is a plot point.
Count how fast the cuts go when a pop song starts. (cutting)
Livolsi accelerates into music-driven montage, stringing costume changes and errands to needle-drops like KT Tunstall and Madonna. Then the film slows and holds on Streep's face.
Payoff: The rhythm does the persuading. Speed makes the job look thrilling before you get a quiet shot to weigh it.
Look at how evenly bright the offices, clothes and interiors are lit. (light)
Ballhaus keeps the high-key, flattering light of lifestyle advertising. Fabric, hair and surfaces are photographed with the care of a magazine spread, even during humiliation.
Payoff: The film shoots this world the way the world sells itself, so you feel the pull before you question it.
Once you have seen it
Watch Hathaway's face through the cerulean speech, not Streep's. (performance)
Andy smirks, then stops. Streep works through the belt, the sweater, the pile of clothes without effort. The scene is built on one person's smile dying.
Payoff: The argument lands on a face before it lands on you: nobody chooses their taste from outside the system.
Notice every nightly delivery of the Book to Miranda's townhouse. (structure)
The same errand returns with rising stakes and deeper access, until Andy is inside the house. Fax machines, the BlackBerry and printed pages date the whole apparatus precisely.
Payoff: Repetition measures how far in she has gone, and the obsolete tools now mark the film as a period piece.
Compare Andy's Paris clothes with what she wears in the final scenes. (setting)
The wardrobe peaks in Paris, then resets. Field uses the same instrument at the end that she used on day one, with Andy now choosing the look rather than being dressed by it.
Payoff: Her exit is legible as clothing, which is the only language this film trusts to show a decision.
Wait for the scenes with no song under them at all. (cutting)
Livolsi lets the music drop out for the quietest Streep beats, including the ones in cars and back rooms. Shapiro's score carries them instead of a needle-drop.
Payoff: Silence marks where the film stops selling the fantasy and asks what it costs.
Carry this in: Watch the clothes and listen to the volume. Status is worn here, and power is the quietest voice in the room.