The Devil Wears Prada starts off like a female version of the scathing Hollywood satire Swimming with Sharks, but changes gears at the midway point to become a very pedestrian tale about a twentysomething learning how to maintain personal integrity. The "you-go-girl" aspects of The Devil Wears Prada are handled well, if not exactly memorably, and neither of the male romantic interests manage to generate much chemistry with Anne Hathaway. Luckily, the film offers enough interesting performances in the supporting roles to overcome the standard-issue storyline. Meryl Streep dominates the film as Miranda Priestly, the editor of a trend-setting fashion magazine. While it would be easy to turn the character into a larger-than-life Cruella DeVille, Streep finds exactly the right tone and plays it to perfection. She is scary, funny, strong, and weak -- not alternately, but all at the same time. She is matched by a reined-in Stanley Tucci who could take his stereotypical gay male character into familiar territory, but instead turns him into a fully realized person who is just as complex as his boss. If these two had been the center of the film, The Devil Wears Prada might have become a penetrating satire of the fashion industry, but director David Frankel aims for something far less ambitious. To put it in terms that Miranda Priestley would appreciate: the filmmakers thought Hathaway and her character were the perfect little black dress, ready to be dressed up and accessorized with the stellar supporting cast. Unfortunately, the pretty little thing lacks the classic, enduring appeal to which they aspired.