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FiyaStarter RATING = 
FiyaballsMovie
Review
The Devil Wears Prada Sales of Prada up 30% in 2006. by: Reggie Eggert, for Entertainment
Indeed, I didn't think it could get much worse than nerds. And then I went to see The Devil Wears Prada. No matter how much I hate nerds, they weren't nearly as sickening as the large groups of grown ass women filing into the theater, smiling, laughing and yacking on about their favorite parts of the book on which the film is based, and how Anne Hathaway wasn't who they imagined as naive Andrea, and how Meryl Streep was a brilliant choice for superbitch Miranda Preistly. It was young women and old women of every ethnicity and class (well, except working class) united by this movie about life at a fashion magazine. On and on they went about what they think the movie should and would be like. I could feel the hate rising like a lump in my throat and I just wanted to spit it out by yelling, "Will you dumb bitches PLEASE shut the fuck up?!?!" Now, the movie is good. I liked the movie...when I wasn't being assaulted by a chorus of overripe, knowing laughter BEFORE THE FUCKING PUNCHLINE WAS REVEALED! It's like they all had to let each other know "Yeah, I read that part...hahahaha...that's just how it happened in the book...it's just like I imagined...isn't this great..hahahahhaha." I grew up in a house full of women and I have never been as aggravated by estrogen as I was watching this movie. Every time Hathaway and Streep changed outfits, there were extremely audible gasps throughout the room. "I would die for those boots." "Oh my God! That coat!" "She is wearing that shit, girl!" Ladies, no bullshit: Is it really that serious? I was so overwhelmed with listening to all of the comments from these women that I can barely remember looking at Anne Hathaway and thinking about doing nasty things to her. I don't have to recommend this movie to women, because that's a wrap. I wrote this for men. Fellas, you need to know what you're getting into with this shit. It's not just a comedy. It's more than that. This movie is a love letter to modern femininity, and frankly, we have no business reading it. Well, we have no business reading it when they're around. And I still have a crush on Meryl Streep. Something's wrong with me.
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I
never thought I'd see a group of moviegoers as pathetically
eager and annoyingly enthusiastic as comic book and video game
nerds, who are always so overjoyed and hyper-critical of cinematic
incarnations of their beloved super heroes and alternate realities.
Seemingly every year, these nerds converge on movie theaters
across the nation and, for two hours, voice their displeasure
and approval of every detail of films they've waited on
for years. It's disgusting listening to them comment on the action,
set design, costumes, dialogue and everything else, as if
they've come to the theater with a checklist (and you know they
did).