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You’ve seen the film, right? This is the (pretty awful) musical version of the (fairly decent) film of the (I haven’t actually read it) novel.
It opens in the offices of Runway magazine, where journalism graduate Andy Sachs stumbles into a post as second assistant to Miranda Priestly, fashion’s unflinching high priestess. Lattes, hostile glares from first assistant Emily and impossible deadlines are pretty much all you see in the first half. In the second half, Andy discovers a betrayal, chooses loyalty to her editor over her own career advancement, then recoils at the cost and walks away from the gilded world she has briefly conquered. It is the same arc the film laid out 19 years ago, rendered here with less nuance and more volume.
What lets the show down first is Elton John’s score. The tunes arrive in glossy packaging but play like variations of each other. ‘Dress Your Way Up’ is serviceable but indistinct, ‘Mirror Mirror’ borrows its propulsion from any number of mid-tempo pop ballads, and the power-anthems assigned to Miranda Priestly never vault beyond predictable chord lifts. A production with this budget should produce at least one song that asserts itself as part of musical theatre’s shared vocabulary. But we leave humming nothing.
Jerry Mitchell’s direction doubles down on spectacle in the hope it will supply the excitement the music never quite finds. Catwalk sequences employ rolling LED arches, strobes and roving photographers who leap into the aisles, yet the choreography beneath the dazzle is traffic-management rather than storytelling. Models step, pose and pivot with clinical precision but little dramatic escalation. Even the Met Gala staircase, rolled out with the fanfare of a biblical revelation, feels oddly under-populated once the ensemble is arranged in its final tableau.
Georgie Buckland sings Andy with clean pop phrasing yet rarely burrows into the character’s crisis of conscience. Her transformation from cardigan-swaddled graduate to Runway power-player takes place almost entirely through costume swaps rather than acting. The pivotal hotel-room confrontation should pulse with conflict but lands more as a ticking-off from a weary mentor.
The evening belongs to Vanessa Williams, who arrives onstage (via lift) with calm command and controls the Dominion’s cavernous space with the rake of an eyebrow. Her Miranda Priestly finesses the iconic put-downs rather than detonating them. Amy Di Bartolomeo matches that authority with an Emily who fires off sarcasm like sniper rounds. Were the entire company pitched at their level, the production might find the acid bite the material demands.
Design offers intermittent jolts of fashion-week luxury. Miranda’s crimson cape is magnificent. But the rest of the wardrobe lapses into garments that would not look out of place in a high-street window, undermining the story’s insistence that we are gazing upon haute couture excess.
Familiar lines from the film drop like crowd-pleasing breadcrumbs, rewarded each time by a ripple of recognition from the audience, yet any hope of deeper investigation into power imbalance, workplace identity or quiet quitting quickly dissolves in favour of another song cue. The fashion industry is riper than ever for satire about sustainability, diversity and influencer culture, but the musical remains content to retread old jokes about cerulean jumpers and grilled-cheese boyfriends.
In the final reckoning the show earns two stars, rescued from utter mediocrity by Williams’s poised gravitas and Di Bartolomeo’s comic dynamite. Their performances hint at the sharper, edgier musical hiding in the seams, a production that might one day drop the reverence and commission a score bold enough to strut on its own terms. But for now, unless you’re a massive fan of the film, it’s one to avoid.
The Devil Wears Prada is at the Dominion Theatre until 3 January 2026
Daniel Barnett practises from Outer Temple Chambers and presents the legal hour on LBC Radio.
You’ve seen the film, right? This is the (pretty awful) musical version of the (fairly decent) film of the (I haven’t actually read it) novel.
It opens in the offices of Runway magazine, where journalism graduate Andy Sachs stumbles into a post as second assistant to Miranda Priestly, fashion’s unflinching high priestess. Lattes, hostile glares from first assistant Emily and impossible deadlines are pretty much all you see in the first half. In the second half, Andy discovers a betrayal, chooses loyalty to her editor over her own career advancement, then recoils at the cost and walks away from the gilded world she has briefly conquered. It is the same arc the film laid out 19 years ago, rendered here with less nuance and more volume.
What lets the show down first is Elton John’s score. The tunes arrive in glossy packaging but play like variations of each other. ‘Dress Your Way Up’ is serviceable but indistinct, ‘Mirror Mirror’ borrows its propulsion from any number of mid-tempo pop ballads, and the power-anthems assigned to Miranda Priestly never vault beyond predictable chord lifts. A production with this budget should produce at least one song that asserts itself as part of musical theatre’s shared vocabulary. But we leave humming nothing.
Jerry Mitchell’s direction doubles down on spectacle in the hope it will supply the excitement the music never quite finds. Catwalk sequences employ rolling LED arches, strobes and roving photographers who leap into the aisles, yet the choreography beneath the dazzle is traffic-management rather than storytelling. Models step, pose and pivot with clinical precision but little dramatic escalation. Even the Met Gala staircase, rolled out with the fanfare of a biblical revelation, feels oddly under-populated once the ensemble is arranged in its final tableau.
Georgie Buckland sings Andy with clean pop phrasing yet rarely burrows into the character’s crisis of conscience. Her transformation from cardigan-swaddled graduate to Runway power-player takes place almost entirely through costume swaps rather than acting. The pivotal hotel-room confrontation should pulse with conflict but lands more as a ticking-off from a weary mentor.
The evening belongs to Vanessa Williams, who arrives onstage (via lift) with calm command and controls the Dominion’s cavernous space with the rake of an eyebrow. Her Miranda Priestly finesses the iconic put-downs rather than detonating them. Amy Di Bartolomeo matches that authority with an Emily who fires off sarcasm like sniper rounds. Were the entire company pitched at their level, the production might find the acid bite the material demands.
Design offers intermittent jolts of fashion-week luxury. Miranda’s crimson cape is magnificent. But the rest of the wardrobe lapses into garments that would not look out of place in a high-street window, undermining the story’s insistence that we are gazing upon haute couture excess.
Familiar lines from the film drop like crowd-pleasing breadcrumbs, rewarded each time by a ripple of recognition from the audience, yet any hope of deeper investigation into power imbalance, workplace identity or quiet quitting quickly dissolves in favour of another song cue. The fashion industry is riper than ever for satire about sustainability, diversity and influencer culture, but the musical remains content to retread old jokes about cerulean jumpers and grilled-cheese boyfriends.
In the final reckoning the show earns two stars, rescued from utter mediocrity by Williams’s poised gravitas and Di Bartolomeo’s comic dynamite. Their performances hint at the sharper, edgier musical hiding in the seams, a production that might one day drop the reverence and commission a score bold enough to strut on its own terms. But for now, unless you’re a massive fan of the film, it’s one to avoid.
The Devil Wears Prada is at the Dominion Theatre until 3 January 2026
Update from the Chair of the Bar
By David Green
Mário Barroso, Head of R&D and Method Development at AlphaBiolabs, examines the forensic science underpinning hair drug testing, its evidential scope and limitations, and why it remains the gold standard for evidencing patterns of drug use in family proceedings
Unlocking your aged debt to fund your tax in one easy step. By Philip N Bristow
Clement Cowley, Partner at The Penny Group, discusses the upcoming changes to pensions and Inheritance Tax and the potential impact on your financial future
Save the Children UK is the latest charity to benefit from a £500 donation from AlphaBiolabs via the company’s Giving Back initiative
James McNeill Whistler at Tate Britain until 27 September Rothko in Florence at Palazzo Strozzi until 23 August Reviewed by Stephen Cragg KC
The Chief Legal Officer to the Metropolitan Police, barrister Brett Welch, tells Anthony Inglese CB about his mission and the work to turn the Met around
Barrister apprenticeships – shortly to provide the fourth pathway to the Bar – are an ideal opportunity to support local talent and ‘grow your own’, say Tim Coulson and Dr Jane Dennehy
Grok around and find out – or not? Mariya Peykova investigates the nudification scandal, what the law has to say about sexually explicit deepfakes, and whether stronger regulation is needed
Oliver Lewis spotlights an overlooked yet rapidly evolving area of law – coercive and controlling behaviour within care contexts
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