The Devil. Really?...

As it is every year, the months leading up to the Oscars are typically packed with serious, brooding films that scream "Look at me, I'm making a profound political/ social/ existential/ environmental statement! This film is deep! Give me an award!" Which is why I'm overjoyed that Little Miss Sunshine is in the running for Best Picture- it's so rare that a happy, little movie gets recognized for the joy and good cheer that it brings.

I'm also thrilled (though not as surprised) that Meryl Streep got nominated for her deliciously wicked performance in The Devil Wears Prada. I finally got round to watching it on video last night and it was just great fun :) The impossibly glamorous outfits aside, I thought Meryl Streep was just an absolute hoot, and so were Stanley Tucci, and Emily Blunt (OMG, talk about overdressed, over made-up, aneroxic, anal co-worker from hell!...). Anne Hathaway, not so much- there's only so far that cute bangs and sparkly eyes can get you, dear.

The thing is, if the film-makers had wanted us to sympathize with the poor little underling and see Meryl Streer's character as the incarnation of evil she's supposed to be, then they clearly cast the wrong person. You're talking about Meryl Streep here, an actress whose every glance, every nuance of emotion conveys a depth of humanness no amount of talking/ whining on Anne Hathaway's part can compare.

I've never read the book, but I suspect that it is immeasurably less sympathetic to the Miranda Priestly character than the movie. You cannot expect to cast someone like Meryl Streep in any role- no matter how hateful, vitriolic, or comic, and not expect facets of human vulnerability to invariably ooze our her every pore. She's probably not going to win the Oscar this year (what with being up against my darling Kate Winslet and the the juggernaut of a contender, Helen Mirren), but she lent a depth to an otherwise fluffy, glossy movie, and she was wonderful.