The Devil Wears Prada took place amid the glorious roar of capitalism. The hit 2006 comedy took place in a world where magazines were still triumphant, with Runway, a fictional, Vogue-esque publication the film was centered on, sitting firmly atop the heap. The only concern was whether Andy Sachs, a plucky aspiring journalist played by Anne Hathaway, could survive working as the assistant to Runway's imperious editor in chief, Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), without totally losing her sense of self. But in The Devil Wears Prada 2, Hollywood's latest nostalgia-baiting follow-up film, the crisis is no longer personal'it's existential. Ahead of watching the sequel, I worried about what I thought would be a lazy parade of fan service; I feared that the movie would lob catchphrases and cameos at the audience like dead fish to a herd of clapping seals. (This often seems to be Hollywood's view of its customer base too.) At first, the story is a bit of a retread: 20 years later, Runway...
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