Amazon Prime Video original movie The Devil Wears Prada was released June 30th, 2006.
#TDWP cleared $326.7M at the international box office.
rottentomatoes: 75%
metacritic: 62
imdb: 6.9
oscars: 2 nominations
golden globes: 1 win
SAG awards: 1 nomination
Miranda Priestly
Miranda Priestly is the head editor of Runway magazine in New York City.
Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role
1 nomination: 2007
Best Performance by an Actress in a Motion Picture – Musical or Comedy
1 win: 2007
Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Leading Role
1 nomination: 2007
“I don’t understand why it’s so difficult to confirm an appointment. Details of your incompetence do not interest me. Tell Simone I’m not going to approve that girl that she sent me for the Brazilian layout. I asked for clean, athletic, smiling. She sent me dirt, tired and paunchy. And RSVP yes to the Michael Kors party. I want the driver to drop me off at 9:30 and pick me up at 9:45 sharp. Call Natalie at Glorious Foods, tell her no for the 40th time. No, I don’t want dacquoise. I want tortes filled with warm rhubarb compote. Then call my ex-husband and remind him the parent-teacher conference is at Dalton tonight. Then call my husband, ask him to meet me for dinner at that place I went to with Massimo. Also, tell Richard I saw the pictures he sent for that feature on the female paratroopers, and they’re all so deeply unattractive. Is it impossible to find a lovely, slender female paratrooper? Am I reaching for the stars here? Not really.” — Miranda Priestly
“Also, I need to see all the things that Nigel has pulled for Gwyneth’s second cover try. I wonder if she’s lost any of that weight yet. Who’s that? Clearly I’m going to have to do that myself because the last two you sent me were completely inadequate. So send her in. That’s all.” — Miranda Priestly
“Who are you? And what are you doing here? So you don’t ready Runway? And before today, you had never heard of me. And you have no style or sense of fashion. No, no. That wasn’t a question. That’s all. Is there some reason that my coffee isn’t here? Has she died or something?” — Miranda Priestly
“Emily. Emily? That’s not what I asked you. I couldn’t have been clearer. There you are, Emily. How many times do I have to scream your name? I need 10 or 15 skirts from Calvin Klein. Please bore someone else with your questions. And make sure we have Pier 59 at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow. Remind Jocelyn I need to see a few of those satchels that Marc is doing in the pony. And then tell Simone I’ll take Jackie if Maggie isn’t available. Did Demarchelier confirm? Demarchelier. Did he– get him on the phone. And, Emily? That’s all. It’s just the cavalier disregard for clear directions– do you have Demarchelier?” — Miranda Priestly
“Are you there? No. And I’ve seen this before. Where are all the other dresses? No. No, I just– it’s just baffling to me. Why is it so impossible to put together a decent run-through? You people have had hours and hours to prepare. It’s just so confusing to me. Where are the advertisers? We need more, don’t we? Oh. This is– this might be– what do you think of– but do you think it’s too much like– where are the blets for this dre– why is no one ready? Hmm. Something funny?” — Miranda Priestly
“‘This… stuff?’ Oh. Okay. I see. You think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet… and you select– I don’t know– that lumpy blue sweater, for instance, because you’re trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. But what you don’t know is that that sweater is not just blue. It’s not turquoise. It’s not lapis. It’s actually cerulean. And you’re also blithely unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was Yves Saint Laurent– wasn’t it– who showed cerulean military jackets? I think we need a jacket here. And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of eight different designers. And then it, uh, filtered down through the department stores and then it trickled on down into some tragic Casual Corner, where you, no doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin. However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs, and it’s sort of comical how you think that you’ve made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry, when, in fact, you’re wearing a sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room, from a pile of stuff.” — Miranda Priestly
“Get me Isaac. I don’t see my breakfast here. Are my eggs here? Where are my eggs? Pick up the Polaroids from the lingerie shoot. Have the brakes checked on my car. Where’s that piece of paper I had in my hand yesterday morning? The girls need new surfboards or Boogie boards or something for Spring Break. Pick up my shoes from Blahnik, and then go get Patricia. Get me that little table that I liked at that store on Madison. Get us a reservation for dinner tonight at that place that got the good review. Get me Isaac. Thirty-six thank-you notes delivered today. Where is everyone? Why is no one working? Get me Demarchelier.” — Miranda Priestly
“My flight has been cancelled. It’s some absurd weather problem. I need to get home tonight. The twins have a recital tomorrow morning at school. At school! Oh, good. Please. It’s just– I don’t know– drizzling. Someone must be getting out. Call Donatella. Get her jet. Call everybody else that we know that has a jet. Irv? Call every– this is your responsibi– this is your job. Get me home.” — Miranda Priestly
“The girls’ recital was absolutely wonderful. They played Rachmaninoff. Everyone loved it. Everyone except me, because, sadly, I was not there. Do you know why I hired you? I always hire the same girl– stylish, slender, of course, worships the magazine. But so often, they turn out to be– I don’t know– disappointing and, um, stupid. So you, with that impressive resume and the big speech about your so-called work ethic– I, um– I thought you would be different. I said to myself, go ahead. Take a chance. Hire the smart, fat girl. I had hope. My God. I live on it. Anyway, you ended up disappointing me more than, um– more than any of the other silly girls. That’s all.” — Miranda Priestly
“The gowns are fabulous. Mm-hmm. We’re gonna use the burgundy. Gotta find–” — Miranda Priestly
Andrea Sachs
“Hi. Uh, I have an appointment with Emily Charlton? Yes. Oh, and you’re replacing yourself. Yeah. Of course. Who’s Miranda? It sounds like a great opportunity. I’d love to be considered. What makes you think I’m not interested in fashion? What’s wrong? Oh! She does? That’s–“
“Uh, my name is Andy Sachs. I recently graduated from Northwestern University. Well, I think I could do a good job as your assistant. And, um– yeah, I came to New York to be a journalist and sent letters out everywhere and then finally got a call from Elias-Clarke and met with Sherry up at Human Resources. Basically, it’s this or Auto Universe. Uh, no. No. Well, um, I think that depends on what you’re–“
“Um, I was editor in chief of the Daily Northwestern. I also, um, won a national competition for college journalists with my series on the Janitor’s Union, which exposed the exploitation– yeah. You know, okay. You’re right. I don’t fit in here. I am not skinny or glamorous, and I don’t know that much about fashion. But I’m smart. I learn fast and I work very hard. Thank you for your time.”
“Hmm? Mm-hmm. Ow! Don’t be a jerk. Okay, Doug. How is it that you know who she is and I didn’t? Oh! Yeah, great. The thing is I’m not one of them. You’re a corporate research analyst! No! I’d like to propose a toast. To jobs that pay the rent. Oh, baby. You should see the way these girls at Runway dress. I don’t have a thing to wear to work. I think I might. Aww! I think you’re full of it. Yeah. Really?”
“Hello? Now? Hello? Oh, I’m almost there. Yeah. Shoot! Oh! Mm-hm. Well, what if I need to– man the desk at all times. Got it. Uh– the– mm-hm. Oh, Emily? What do I do– hello. Mrs. Priestly’s office. Hmm. That’s what I meant. Miranda Priestly’s office. Um, you know, she is in a meeting. Can I please take a message? Uh-huh. Okay. Can you please spell Gabbanna? Hello? I guess not.”
“Um, uh, that’s very nice of you, but I don’t think I need these. Miranda hired me. She knows what I look like. Actually, it’s Andy. My name is Andy. Andrea, but, uh, everybody calls me Andy. What kind of skirts do you– D-Did D-Demarchel– uh, o– okay. Yes? Uh, Demarchelier. Do you have– uh, no, she called me in there and-and then she asked me about Pier 59. And there was something about Simone, Frankie, someone else. And, um, she needs skirts from Calvin Klein. And, uh, there was something about a pony. No. No. I tried to ask her. Eh– me? Uh– Miranda?”
“I’m about to walk in. I’ll call you as soon as– hello? Hi. Okay. Can you repeat that first– hello? What? You haven’t peed since I left? Oh, hi. Okay. The ru– the run-through. Right. Hi. Okay. So none of the girls here eat anything? Well, I’m a six. Oh. Shoot. Okay. You think my clothes are hideous. I get it. But, you know, I’m not going to be in fashion forever, so I don’t see the point of changing everything about myself just because I have this job. Mmm.”
“Which means? Shoot! Hmm? No. No, no. Nothing’s– you know, it’s just that both those belts look exactly the same to me. You know, I’m still learning about this stuff and, uh– so then I said, ‘no, I couldn’t see the difference between the two absolutely identical belts,’ and you should have seen the look she gave me! I thought the flesh was gonna melt off her face. It’s not funny. She’s not happy unless everyone around her is panicked, nauseous or suicidal. And the Clackers just worship her. They call them clackers. The sound that their stilettos make in the marble lobby. It’s like, ‘clack, clack, clack. Clack clack.’ And they all act like they’re curing cancer or something. The amount of time and energy that these people spend on these insignificant, minute details, and for what? So that tomorrow they can spend another $300,000 reshooting something that was probably fine to begin with to sell people things they don’t need! God! I’m not even hungry anymore.”
“That is why those girls are so skinny. You know what? I just have to stick it out for a year. One year. And then I can do what I came to New York to do. But I can’t let Miranda get to me. I won’t. Oh, good morning, Miranda. Excuse me! Hello. Ow! Oh, my gosh! Who’s that? Good girl! Good girl! Good girl! I have Miranda Priestly calling for– okay. I have Patrick. Thank God it’s Friday, right? At least Miranda will be in Miami, so we don’t have to be on call this weekend. You know, my dad’s coming in from Ohio. Yeah, we’re gonna go out to dinner, maybe see Chicago. You doing anything fun this weekend?”
“Yeah, Nate said it was great. He actually– he applied here, but they wanted someone with more experience. Huh? What’s this? Dad, how did you– I’m gonna kill Mom. Dad, thank you. It’s really good to see you. So, you want to start grilling me now, or should we wait till after dinner? Hey, that’s not fair. I wrote those e-mails. Dad, you have to trust me. Being Miranda’s assistant opens a lot of doors. Emily is going to Paris with Miranda in a few months, and she’s gonna meet editors and writers from every important magazine. And in a year, that could be me. All right? Dad, I swear, this is my break. This is my– my chance. This is… my boss. I’m sorry, Dad. I have to take this.”
“Hello. Miranda? What? Absolutely. Let me see what I can do. Hi. Um, I know this is totally last minute, but I was hoping that you could maybe get a flight for my boss from Miami to New York tonight? Yeah, any kind of jet. From Miami to New York. Thank you. Yup, I need it tonight. I need it– I thought you were going out the other– tonight. Hi. I’m trying to get a flight tonight– for tonight– from Miami to New York. Yes, I know there’s a hurricane. Nothing is flying out? What do you mean, nothing is flying out? It’s for Miranda Priestly, and I know that she’s a client of yours. Yes. Yes, hi. I need a jet tonight from Miami to New York. Yeah. Sorry. Hold on. Hello? Miranda, hi. I’m trying to get you a flight, but no one is flying out because of the weather.”
“Oh, my God! She’s going to murder me. Of course not. Could I do that? Miranda, I’m so sorry. Um, I really did everything I could think of. Uh– she hates me, Nigel. I don’t know what else I can do because if I do something right, it’s unacknowledged. She doesn’t even say thank you. But if I do something wrong, she is vicious. What? Quit? No, I don’t want to quit. That’s not fair. But, you know, I’m just saying that I would just like a little credit for the fact that I’m killing myself trying. I– okay. So I’m screwing it up. I don’t want to. I just wish that knew what I could do to– Nigel? Nigel, Nigel. A poncho? Hmm! Hmm. Wow. What?”
“Miranda Priestly’s office. No, actually, she’s not available, but I’ll leave word. Okay, thanks. Bye. The Chanel boots? Yeah, I am. So, what do you think? Hey. Oh, I’m so sorry I’m late. There was a crisis in the accessories department. I needed to find a python headband. I have exciting presents for all of you. Are you ready? It’s a Bang & Olufsen phone. Charlie Rose sent it to Miranda for her birthday. I looked it up on line. It’s $1,100. And I have some products. Mason Pearson hairbrushes. A little Clinique. Oh! One more. A little thing. Do you want it? You want– oh. I think she likes it. Miranda didn’t want it, so– yeah, you can. Yeah. But the thing is, it turns out there is more to Runway than just fancy purses. Look, here’s an essay by Jay McInerney, a piece by Joan Didion. Even an interview with Christiane Amanpour. What are you– let me talk to her. I need that. Lily, no, no, no! Put that thing up! I was gonna answer it! It’s gonna make– give me the… phone.”
“Hi, Miranda. Absolutely. Uh-huh. I’m leaving right now.”
Emily Charlton
“Andrea Sachs? Great. Human resources certainly has an odd sense of humor. Follow me. Okay, so I was Miranda’s second assistant, but her first assistant recently got promoted but her first assistant recently got promoted, and so now I’m the first. Well, I am trying. Miranda sacked the last two girls after only a few weeks. We need to find someone who can survive here. Do you understand? Oh, my God. I will pretend you did not just ask me that. She’s the editor in chief of Runway, not to mention a legend. You work a year for her, and you can get a job at any magazine you want. A million girls would kill for this job.”
“Andrea, Runway is a fashion magazine, so an interest in fashion is crucial. Oh, my God. No! No! No! She’s on her way. Tell everyone! Her driver just text messaged, and her facialist ruptured a disk. God, these people! That I can’t even talk about. Move it! Oooh! I Know. I’m so sorry, Miranda. I actually did confirm last night. 9:45 sharp. No. Nobody. Um, uh– human resources sent her up about the new assistant job, and I was preinterviewing her. But she’s hopeless and totally wrong for it. Right. She wants to see you. Move! This is foul. Don’t let her see it. Go!”
“Andrea? Andrea, Miranda decided to kill the autumn jacket story for September, and she is pulling up the Sedona shoot from October. You need to come into the office and pick up her coffee order on the way. Now, get a pen and write this down. I want one no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot and three drip coffees with room for milk. Searing hot. And I mean hot. Where are you? No. God. Oh. Bloody time. I hope you know that this is a very difficult job– for which you are totally wrong. And if you mess up, my head is on the chopping block. Now, hang that up. Don’t just fling it anywhere. Okay. First of all, you and I answer the phones. The phone must be answered every single time it rings. Calls roll to voice mail, and she gets very upset. If I’m not here– Andrea, Andrea– you are chained to that desk. What? No.”
“One time an assistant left the desk because she sliced her hand pen with a letter opener, and Miranda missed Lagerfeld… just before he boarded a 17-hour flight to Australia. She now works at TV Guide. Miranda Priestly’s office. No, she’s not available. Who is it? Yes, I will tell her you called… yet again. Right, remember, you and I have totally different jobs. I mean, you get coffee– and you run errands. Yet I am in charge of her schedule, her appointments and her expenses. And, um, most importantly, um, I get to go with her to Paris for Fashion Week in the fall. I get to wear couture. I go to all the shows and all the parties. I meet all of the designers. It’s divine. Okay. Now, stay here. I’m going to the art department to give them the Book. This is the Book. Now, it is a mock-up of everything in the current issue.”
“And we deliver it to Miranda’s apartment every night, and she retu– don’t touch it. She returns it to us in the morning with her notes. Now, the second assistant is supposed to do this, but Miranda is very private and she does not like strangers in her house. So until she decides that you are not a total psycho, I get the lovely task of waiting around for the Book. Deal with it.”
“Leave it. I have Miranda Priestly calling. I have Patrick! Did she say what kind? Color, shape, fabric? You may never ask Miranda anything. Right. I will deal with all of this, and you will go to Calvin Klein. Oh, I’m sorry. Do you have some prior commitment? Some hideous skirt convention you have to go to? While you’re out, Miranda needs you to go Hermes to pick up 25 scarves we ordered for her. Cassidy forgot her homework at Dalton. Pick that up. Oh, yeah, and Miranda went out to meet with Meisel, and she will want more Starbucks when she gets back. Hot Starbucks. Oh, my God. What took you so long? I have to pee!”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been manning the desk, haven’t I? Bursting. You do the coat. Do the coat! Now, be prepared. The run-through is at 12:30. And people are panicking, so the phone is going to be ringing off the hook. Yes. Editors bring in options for the shoot, and Miranda chooses. She chooses every single thing in every single issue. Run-throughs are a huge deal. I don’t know why you don’t know that, Andrea. Oh, hi, hi. Right. Well, after the loo, Serena and I are going to lunch. This is her– the new me. Told you. No, quite serious, yeah. I get 20 minutes for lunch, and you get 15. When I come back, you can go. Her grandmother’s skirt.”
“The twins also need flip-flops. Yes. Excuse me! Where do you think you’re going? I mean, I have no idea why Miranda hired her. I just knew from the moment I saw her, she was going to be a complete and utter disas– how did– are you wearing the– oh, God. Oh, shut up, Serena.”
Nigel
“She’s not suppposed to be here until 9:00. Who’s that? All right, everyone! Gird your loins! Did someone eat an onion bagel?”
“I got the exclusive on the Cavalli for Gwyneth, but the problem is, with that huge feathered headdress that she’s wearing, but the problem is, with that huge feathered headdress that she’s wearing, she looks like she’s working the main stage at the Golden Nugget. Who is that sad, little person? Are we doing a before-and-after piece I don’t know about.”
“I guessed an eight and a half. Do you? She means you. Hmm. Corn chowder. That’s an interesting choice. You do know that cellulite is one of the main ingredients in corn chowder. Not since two became the new four and zero became the new two. Which is the new 14. Oh, never mind. I’m sure you have plenty more polyblend where that came from. Yes, that’s true. That’s really what this multibillion-dollar industry is all about anyway, isn’t it? Inner beauty. Hello. Right. Come on. Miranda’s pushed the run-through up a half an hour.”
“She’s always 15 minutes early. You’re already late. Come. Excuse me. Mr. Ravitz. Oh, yes. Our best September ever. About 300,000. Oh, I’m sorry. This is Andy Sachs, Miranda’s new assistant. Bye-bye. Chairman of Elias-Clarke, Irv Ravitz. You know what they say? Tiny man, huge ego. Stand, watch and listen. Yeah. Well, you know me. Give me a full ballerina skirt and a hint of saloon and I’m on board. Like the Lacroix from July? I thought that, but no, not with the right accessories. It should work. Mmm.”
“And that’s my problem because– oh, wait. No, it’s not my problem. So quit. Quit. I can get another girl to take your job in five minutes– one who really wants it. Andy, be serious. You are not trying. You are whining. What is it that you want me to say to you, huh? Do you want me to say, ‘poor you. Miranda’s picking on you. Poor Andy?’ Hmm? Wake up, six. She’s just doing her job. Don’t you know that you are working at the place that published some of the greatest artists of the century? Halston, Lagerfeld, de la Renta. And what they did, what they created, was greater than art because you live your life in it. Well, not you, obviously, but some people.”
“You think this is just a magazine, hmm? This is not just a magazine. This is a shining beacon of hope for– oh, I don’t know– let’s say a young boy growing up in Rhode Island with six brothers, pretending to go to soccer practice when he was really going to sewing class and reading Runway under the covers at night with a flashlight. You have no idea how many legends have walked these halls. And what’s worse, you don’t care. Because this place, where so many people would die to work, you only deign to work. And you want to know why she doesn’t kiss you on the forehead and give you a gold star on your homework at the end of the day. Wake up, sweetheart. Mmm. Hmm? No. I don’t know what you expect me to do. There’s nothing in this whole closet that’ll fit a size six. I can guarantee you. These are all sample sizes– two and four. All right. We’re doing this for you. And– you’ll take what I give you and you’ll like it. We’re doing this Dolce for you. And shoes. Jimmy Choo’s.”
“Manolo Blahnik. Nancy Gonzalez. Love that. Okay, Narciso Rodriguez. This we love. Uh, it might fight. It might. Okay. Now, Chanel. You’re in desperate need of Chanel. Darling, shall we? We have to get to the beauty department, and God knows how long that’s going to take.”
Nate
“Good luck.”
“Wait. You got a job at a fashion magazine? What was it, a phone interview? Yeah. And Lily, she works at that gallery doing, uh, you know– oh, I’m sorry. What exactly is it that you do anyway?”
“You’re a corporate research analyst. Ah, yes. To jobs that pay the rent. Come on. You’re gonna be answering the phones and getting coffee. You need a ball gown for that? Well, I happen to think you look great always. Hey. Come on. Let’s go home. I can think of something we can do that doesn’t require any clothing. Mmm.”
“The who? What? Oh. No, no, no. Give me that. There’s, like, eight dollars of Jarlsberg in there. Easy there, tiger.”
“See you guys tomorrow. Take care of that finger, huh? Uh, I think we better get out of here before my girlfriend sees me.”
“So we spent a whole semester on potatoes alone. You take the fry and squeeze it. See how firm that is? Wow! Why do women need so many bags? You have one. You put all your junk in it, and that’s it. You’re done. Looks like someone’s been drinking the Kool-Aid. I got it. It’s– yup, the Dragon Lady. Ooh. Shh.”
New York City
“Sorry, Miranda.”
“Brown and Law, please? Thank you. Wow.”
“Miranda Priestly is famous for being unpredictable. I’m actually a girl. That would explain so much. Look, seriously. Miranda Priestly is a huge deal. I bet a million girls would kill for that job. Look, you gotta start somewhere, right? I mean, look at this dump Nate works in. I mean, come on. Paper napkins? Hello.”
“Well, lucky for me, I already have my dream job. Oh, you’re right. My job sucks. It sucks. I don’t– it’s boring. It’s all right. Breathe. I’m trying. Here. Take a drink. I will have a drink. To jobs that pay the rent.”
“We just cut on the bias. Okay. Are you ready? I thought you were kidding. What exactly is she wearing? Nigel. Issue going well? Great. Heard Miranda killed autumn jackets and pulled up the Sedona shoot. What’s that costing me? Must have been some lousy jackets. Irv Ravitz. Congratulations, young lady. A million girls would kill for that job.”
“Theyskens is trying to reinvent the drop waist, so actually it’s– we have some right here. And I think it can be very interesting– we have some pieces from Banana Republic. Here. It’s a tough call. They’re so different.”
“Here. I don’t want you to get behind on your rent. It’s– mm-hmm. You too, honey. I thought I’d let you at least enjoy the bread basket first. We’re just a little worried, honey. We get -emails from you at your office at 2:00 a.m. Your pay is terrible. You don’t get to write anything. I’m just trying to understand why someone who got accepted to Stanford Law turns it down to be a journalist, and now you’re not even doing that. Mm-hmm. Take it. Take it. Uh– ow! Sweetie! No. It’s over here, honey.”
“What does she want you to do, call the National Guard and have her airlifted out of there? Come on. Come on.”
“Me neither. The other day, we were in the beauty department. She held up the Shu Uemura eyelash curler and said, ‘what is this?’ You look good. What? She does.”
“Good night, man. Take it easy. Python’s hot right now. What? Ooh! Oh, damn it. I love your job. Gimme! Gimme, gimme, gimme! Oh, my God! This is the new Marc Jacobs! This is sold out everywhere. Where did you get this? No, no, no, no, no. This bag is, like, $1,900. I cannot take this from you. Shut up. Fashion is not about utility. An accessory is merely a piece of iconography used to express individual identity. Oh! And it’s pretty. That too. Oh, Miranda? I’ll tell her to get her own scrambled eggs. Shh!”
