'Subtle it ain’t': Katie Lam reviews 'The Devil Wears Prada: A New Musical'

Vanessa Williams as Miranda Priestly | Photo by: Matt Crockett

Katie Lam MP

The formula for a hit musical – or so the old showbiz adage goes – is a big star, a big writer, and a big title. Based on the wildly successful 2006 film of the same name, The Devil Wears Prada clearly has the last of these. The cast is headed by Emmy- and Tony-nominated Vanessa Williams, of Ugly Betty and Desperate Housewives fame – undoubtedly a big star for the West End. And the music was written by none other than Elton John, whose status needs no explanation. But is it enough?

(As well as being an iconic piece of noughties culture, the film is a great political litmus test. If you, like me, left the cinema thinking, “Sorry, you went to work for the most important publication serving a multi-trillion-dollar industry and you were surprised it was demanding? You think people should be asked to do important work projects based on how long they’ve been at the company? Don’t you want to work in a meritocracy???”, then you, my friend, may be a Conservative. If on the other hand you thought, “My God, this is inhumane – these people must unionise immediately,” then I know an Employment Rights Bill you might like to support.)

It’s certainly great fun. The costumes are a blast, though inevitably lack some of the luxe feel of Patricia Field’s Oscar-nominated work for the film. They don’t have the Chanel boots, I’m sorry to report, but if you pine for the days of Balmain military jackets, lace-up shoe boots and Hervé Léger bandage dresses (or in my case, the Topshop knock-offs of them), then there’s a lot for you to enjoy. The choreography and movement direction is also well done, and the cast are energetic and slick.

The show is a direct stage translation of the film, which poses a serious challenge because the film version of The Devil Wears Prada was exceptionally well-acted. Meryl Streep’s Oscar-nominated performance as editor-in-chief Miranda Priestly was outrageously enjoyable and quotable in equal measure. Lines like, “by all means, move at a glacial pace. You know how that thrills me”; “No, no, that wasn’t a question”; or, “Florals? For spring? Groundbreaking” can only be heard in her voice.

The biggest change – adding the music – doesn’t quite land

Her performance was devastating in its lethal stillness and its hushed tones. Williams’ Priestly, by contrast, throws her weight around and raises her voice. When Streep dismisses a room with, “That’s all,” she is barely audible; Williams sings it with gusto throughout House of Miranda, her introductory number in Act I. This takes a bit of getting used to, but in fact makes very good sense: firstly, because Williams is clearly keen to give us her version of Miranda Priestly, not a Meryl Streep impression; and secondly, because the screen is a much more subtle medium than the stage. Streep could devastate a scene by raising one eyebrow. If Williams did the same, you wouldn’t even see it past the fourth row.

As Runway magazine art director Nigel, Stanley Tucci also gave a beautifully understated screen performance. The same character on stage, performed by Matt Henry, is bigger and bolder, but here unfortunately things do not translate so well. Nigel’s sexuality, his complicated relationship with Miranda, his pain, were worn so lightly by Tucci, conveyed by acts as small as taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Henry’s Act II solo, Seen, makes all this much more explicit, and it loses some of its impact. Whatever the rhyming couplet, “Being gay isn’t a crime/ In fact it’s pretty f***ing sublime” might have going for it, subtle it ain’t.

Some changes are clear improvements. Andy’s boyfriend is much less annoying (you’re angry your girlfriend saw you late on your birthday because she was at one of her most important work events of the year? What are you, eight?). But the biggest change – adding the music – doesn’t quite land. Every song in a musical should feel organic and inevitable, the eruption of an emotion or an atmosphere that can no longer be contained in dialogue. The music in The Devil Wears Prada is more just ‘there’: enjoyable whilst it’s happening, but adds nothing to the story or characterisation, and quickly forgotten. The only tune I could hum on the way out was Dress Your Way Up, and truthfully that’s only because I got a handy reminder in the bows at the end.

It’s an entertaining night out, and the New Year’s Eve crowd sitting around me obviously had a great time. All in all, though, I couldn’t help feeling that The Devil Wears Prada wasn’t just meeting the formula – it was a bit formulaic.

Katie Lam is Conservative MP for the Weald of Kent

The Devil Wears Prada: A New Musical
Director and choreographer: Jerry Mitchell
Music: Elton John
Venue: Dominion Theatre, London W1; until 18 October 2025

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