This article contains some plot spoilers for “The Devil Wears Prada 2.”

An early, pivotal scene in “The Devil Wears Prada 2” is so recognizable to anyone who works in media right now that it should come with a warning. 

Anne Hathaway’s Andy Sachs, now an esteemed investigative reporter at a New York newspaper, is about to receive a prize during a journalism awards ceremony. But as the category is being announced, she and her colleagues receive text messages declaring that they’ve been fired because the newspaper is shutting down. Gobsmacked, Andy delivers an off-the-cuff acceptance speech in which she makes an impassioned plea to save journalism because it matters more than money or, you know, should. 

Her comments go viral, which leads Irv Ravitz (Tibor Feldman), the CEO of media conglomerate Elias-Clark Publications, to ask her to return to Runway magazine, where she will lead the features department and bring some much-needed gravitas to the fashion publication. He wants to boost the mag’s credibility thanks to an error in judgment committed by none other than editor-in-chief Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep, still sporting that swoopy silver ’do). And that’s how the key figures from 2006’s “The Devil Wears Prada” find themselves back in the same orbit.

As a longtime journalist who has gotten significant career news at extremely inopportune times, the mass firing at an awards ceremony rang, sadly, true. I once learned I had a new boss while covering a panel at San Diego Comic-Con. Another time, I got the news that the popular blog I wrote for a major newspaper’s website was being discontinued while I was being checked for head lice. (Fun fact: I had it!) 

This industry is brutal and always has been. But it is at its most broken point in modern history, and the film, to its credit, understands this. Not only are crusaders for good, old-fashioned, do-gooder journalism like Andy vulnerable to job cuts, even someone as established as Miranda, the “Prada”-verse’s equivalent of Anna Wintour, fears being pushed out of the profession altogether. This sequel, also written by Aline Brosh McKenna and directed by David Frankel, frames itself as a journalism movie in a way that its predecessor did not. But it mostly pays lip service to the sense of desperation that pervades the media business, rather than depicting it.

This moment aches for a great movie about the importance of the press. “The Devil Wears Prada 2” not only isn’t that movie, it winds up reinforcing many misguided perceptions of journalism as some elite profession that caters to the well-heeled.

To be clear, I did not walk into “The Devil Wears Prada 2” expecting to see “The Post.” (Although, in a way, isn’t that what I got?) As a work of popular entertainment, “The Devil Wears Prada 2” has three main responsibilities: to look great, to show off beautiful clothes and to give Stanley Tucci the chance to put exactly the right amount of sauce on every spicy comment he utters. The whole point of a sequel is to serve the audience the same decadent meal they enjoyed the first time. 

But in 2026 you can’t make a movie about a media outlet without acknowledging that the media landscape is an active minefield. You also can’t make a second “Devil Wears Prada” that isn’t frothy and aggressively fabulous. Those two contrasting objectives ultimately knock each other out.

This film tries to give Andy the same level of integrity that she possessed in the 2006 movie, which ends with her interviewing for a gig at a traditional newspaper. To be fair, when she gets Ravitz’s job offer in the followup, she is torn about accepting it. But she likes the idea of getting to write some hard-hitting pieces and of hiring some recently unemployed friends. She also knows how hard it is to find a journalism job, let alone one that pays her more than she was already making. 

We know that Andy is not wealthy based on her apartment, where brown water routinely spurts out of the faucet; as before, Tucci’s Nigel helps her out by loaning her outfits from Runway’s ample in-house closet. But not long after rejoining Runway, Andy moves into a much nicer building that’s been renovated by a man who soon becomes her boyfriend (and somehow manages to be even more boring than her boyfriend from the first film). Andy looks phenomenal — no surprise for a movie primarily about fashion. But it is hard to square the notion that Andy’s industry is in dire straits since her straits look pretty darn prosperous.

There is one montage of Andy doing the work of journalism, which mostly consists of her looking gorgeous in meetings or while typing on her laptop. In another scene, she frantically makes work-related phone calls. But the major set pieces take place at cushy events where tons of bold-faced names — Jenna Bush Hager! Law Roach! Karl-Anthony Towns, for some reason! — gather to clink champagne glasses. As fun as it is to watch those pans through the glossy party scene, they reinforce the idea that everyone who works in media spends their time rubbing shoulders with other elites. “The Devil Wears Prada 2” is not the first piece of pop culture to do this. But at this particular moment, when so many reporters and editors are getting laid off and struggling to make ends meet, it looks particularly unsavory and inaccurate.

It’s also hard to square all of the above with the fact that Runway is losing money, so much so that it may be sold to a vapid Jeff Bezos-like figure, played by Justin Theroux. During one “sobering” meeting in which Nigel says fewer staffers are being sent to Milan for Fashion Week, he adds that those who are going can no longer take private cars and, instead, will have to Uber. In this economy, no audience will empathize with how hard it is to be a writer, or to do any job for that matter, if Ubering is your version of slumming it. (The team, including Miranda, also has to fly coach. Folks, there is no way Miranda Priestly would ever fly coach. Someone would be left behind, or their job outright eliminated, before that woman sat in anything approaching economy class.)

In the first film, Andy’s friends give her a hard time when she gets caught up in her new job, accusing her of abandoning her principles. In the sequel, selling out is basically a requirement for anyone who plans to keep working in media. That discrepancy would have been really interesting to explore, but this continuation is too committed to hitting the same beats as its forerunner and landing on some version of a happy ending to go there. As in the first film, the sequel ultimately asserts that money and connections are more crucial to career survival than anything else. Which is a fascinating place to land after an opening in which a bunch of underpaid journalists get laid off and the guy who sold the paper walks away with millions.

What “The Devil Wears Prada 2” doesn’t dare to say is that the media’s reliance on the wealthiest one-percenters to keep outlets afloat is part of the reason so many people like Andy and her friends are losing their jobs: Too many of those cash-flush guys don’t care about the art or craft of journalism. (The movie does underscore that too many of those guys are actual guys.) Perhaps even more notably, it doesn’t point out that the seeds for the current media hellscape were being planted back in 2006, the year that the first movie premiered and that Twitter debuted. Rewatch the original and count the number of times anyone talks about the digital edition of Runway or even says the word internet. You’ll come up blank.

Again, I did not walk into this movie expecting a nuanced portrait of the journalism industry. But if you’re going to spotlight a topic, you have to reckon with it, preferably in a way that does the subject justice. “The Devil Wears Prada 2” takes the problems it raises and then does what Miranda did with her jackets and purses early in the first film: tosses them aside as someone else’s problem.

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