The Devil Wears Prada (2006)

Andy’s boyfriend is the real villain of this movie and I will not be taking questions. Nate sulks because she misses his birthday for a job that pays the rent. Her friends treat every call from the office like a crime in progress. Meanwhile Miranda Priestly, the actual boss from the underworld, barely raises her voice, and Meryl Streep makes that quiet scarier than any yelling. The movie wants you to believe this job is poison, then makes it look like the most fun place on earth. Emily Blunt’s Emily is a stressed-out masterpiece, and Stanley Tucci’s Nigel deserves his own movie. The cerulean speech alone teaches more than most fashion documentaries. At 109 minutes it moves like Miranda’s assistants, fast and in heels. It turned a reported $35 to $41 million budget into $326 million worldwide, which tracks. A 7.4 because Streep is untouchable and the movie’s message is muddier than a Paris puddle. $906 says you call something cerulean this week just to see if anyone notices.

What works: Meryl Streep’s whisper-quiet Miranda, Emily Blunt’s frazzled Emily and Stanley Tucci’s Nigel make every office scene crackle.

What doesn’t: The movie can’t decide whether Andy’s job is ruining her or making her, so the big lesson at the end feels like a shrug in a nice coat.

Who it’s for: Anyone who has ever had a boss make them redo a coffee order, and anyone who rewatches comfort movies on a sick day.