The Devil Wears Prada at the Dominion Theatre.In a week which saw Elton John’s Tammy Faye announce that it would close early on Broadway due to mixed reviews and poor ticket sales (it was truly mesmerising in the London version at The Almeida), it is good to see the pop legend has another show ready to go - if not exactly ready to wear. Directed and choreographed by triple-Tony Award winner Jerry Mitchell, the slick and stylish new production stars Vanessa Williams who follows in Meryl Streep’s stiletto heels as Runway Magazine’s Miranda Priestly, in the tale which could just as easily have been titled, Chronicle of a Bitch Foretold.
When an aspiring journalist Andy (Georgie Buckland, making a flashbulb-popping West End debut) lands a junior intern’s job at the offices of a fashion magazine’s tyrannical editor-in-chief, she has to juggle her priorities and her ideals. The first part of that balancing act relates to her emotional commitment to adoring chef boyfriend Nate (Rhys Whitfield) which comes under strain as the fast paced, cut-throat world of glamour, quickly envelopes and threatens to consume her. Every one of Andy’s efforts to impress la Priestly fall short, until she gradually learns to trust her instincts and accepts a helpful steer from Miranda’s campy, go-to creative fixer Nigel (Matt Henry). Meanwhile the sharks (in the form of other wannabe assistants) smell blood in the water and begin circling. After an accident requires Assistant No1 Emily (Amy di Bartolomeo) to endure an enforced sojourn in hospital, her previously hostile Brit demeanour softens through the attentions of a hot male nurse (Liam Marcellino) who confesses among other things, to having always harboured a desire to visit Paris.
Fans of the movie with its renowned peppering of oft-quoted, acerbic put downs, will not be disappointed given that most are press-ganged into service once more. Equally delighted, will be anyone who has even a passing interest in couture and/or high-end fashion. The costume budget must surely have been eye-watering, not to mention the show’s ongoing dry cleaning bills!
The creative team’s circa 25 songs carry the story from its opening scene at a New York tenement apartment, to the giddy heights of Runway’s plush Manhattan offices, to Paris and back. Whilst not all the tunes are especially memorable, like fashion itself, much about this show depends on image, so the tongue-in-cheek I Only Love You For Your Body, Dress Your Way Up, Miranda Girl and Bon Voyage serve to add energy whilst never losing sight of their need to playfully entertain. Mitchell’s choreography, whilst lacking a certain originality, gives the substantial ensemble enough to keep them occupied as they traverse the sliding set flats which are constantly pulled on and off from the Dominion’s wing spaces.
London’s West End has a new and fripperous, flouncy, fun-fest, just in time for Christmas, and it would take the stoniest of Yuletide curmudgeons not to enjoy an evening in the company of this most colourful of kaleidoscopic concoctions.
