As a professional journalist, I’m a bit skeptical of movies about journalism. So often it’s presented as either more glamorous or more corrupt than it really is. To be vulnerable to corruption you need power, and to live glamorously you need money. Most journalists have neither. But there are exceptions.
One is Anna Wintour, editor-in-chief of Vogue magazine. She reportedly makes $5 million a year, dates wealthy older men and refused to put Oprah Winfrey on the cover until she lost weight. Her decisions launch designers and set trends. She is, by all accounts, an autocratic and impossible boss.
In The Devil Wears Prada, Meryl Streep plays Miranda Priestly, a thinly veiled satire of Wintour. She gives orders that are either impossible to fill–procurement of the unpublished manuscript of the next Harry Potter novel by three, please–or too vague to comprehend–”Book me a table at that place that I like.” She is relentlessly critical and never smiles.
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Posted by myownworstcritic 
