The Devil Wears Prada musical is blasted as ‘more John Lewis than Valentino’ with critics slamming Elton John’s songs as ‘sounding like they were written by AI’

When The Devil Wears Prada first hit cinema screens in 2006, fans could not get enough of  of Miranda Priestly,  played by Meryl Streep.

 The Oscar winner was critically-acclaimed for her role as the editor-in-chief of a glossy fashion magazine, while Anne Hathaway and Emma Blunt were also loved for their roles as her fighting assistants.     

But it seems the musical has fallen short of delivering expectations and has been slammed by critics – who have even said Elton John’s music sounds like it was ‘written by AI’.

The play – which is at the Dominion Theatre in central London – follows aspiring journalist Andy Sachs, played by Georgie Buckland, as she scores a job at the prestigious Runway magazine headed by Miranda, who is played by Vanessa Williams. 

Vanessa, who is an Emmy and Tony nominee, is best known for her role as Wilhelmina Slater in Ugly Betty – another demanding boss of a fashion magazine. 

And although Miranda’s character is known for being cold and ruthless, a critic from City AM who reviewed the West End show said that Williams went for a ‘soft-around-the-edges’ approach, which made her performance ‘lack fear factor’.

The Times said although the costumes sparkle, the production was closer to being more like ‘John Lewis’ than Valentino.  

THE TIMES

Rating:

Clive Davis writes: The costumes sparkle but a production that needs Valentino swagger ends up being closer to John Lewis.

 Now, I don’t mean to be rude to that store’s customers (I’m one myself) but a musical about high-end fashion ought to deliver lots of va-va-voom. 

Aside from the few occasions where Elton John’s music catches fire and the designers begin to throw colour around (there’s a suave red-white-and-blue motif when the story shifts to Paris), the director-choreographer Jerry Mitchell’s retread of the 2006 Hollywood film is efficient, well-groomed and, at times, a tiny bit dull.

THE i 

Rating:

Fiona Mountford writes: After her first entrance in the Runway office wearing [Anna] Wintour’s trademark oversized sunglasses, [Vanessa Williams] reveals a disarming flair for appearing silently and suddenly, like a supervillain surveying her lair.

‘If only this fabulousness could extend to director Jerry Mitchell’s choreography, which is bewilderingly and irredeemably naff, like a local Zumba class attempting a line dance. 

‘The cavernous Dominion stage is crying out for some top-level hoofing and the talented ensemble of frustrated fashionistas appear to be bursting to let rip. Come for the frocks and the folks, rather than the music and moves. 

THE TELEGRAPH

Rating:

Dominic Cavendish writes: ‘Style as well as (some) substance is required here, and you’d think that’d be here in abundance given that Elton John has written the music. 

‘But it’s as if the trendsetter who gave us Billy Elliot and The Lion King – not to mention some of the finest pop songs of our era – has couriered over some generic material and everyone has followed suit (the bland lyrics are by Shaina Taub and Mark Sonnenblick).

‘Elton garnered sympathy and some publicity at that gala by revealing that he’s currently too blind to see the action but “it sounded good”. Does it, though? ‘

THE INDEPENDENT 

Rating:

The Independent said that the musical lacked ‘imagination’ from the ‘whole writing team’. Pictured L-R: Vanessa Williams as Miranda and Georgie Buckland as Andy Sachs

Alice Saville writes: ‘It’s not the fault of star Vanessa Williams, who turns in a decent performance as fictional magazine editor Miranda Priestly – acting with a subtlety that her fearsome red-and-black costumes lack. 

‘Instead, it’s a result of a lack of imagination from the whole writing team, who cling to the 2006 film’s script like a millennial clings to stretch denim jeans (they’re more comfy, OK?). 

‘Director and choreographer Jerry Mitchell’s production feels less like an ironic comment on the Noughties, than it does a time capsule from back then – albeit one where groundwater has seeped in and made everything a bit limp and soggy.’

THE EVENING STANDARD

Rating:

Martin Robinson writes: ‘Elton John’s irresistible songs are the highlight of this big, bold, metaphorically shoulder-padded musical, which also features a star turn from Vanessa Williams as Miranda Priestly, wintry supremo of Manhattan fashion magazine Runway.

‘The tunes, from disco to power pop to Broadway homage, are draped in witty lyrics by Shaina Taub and Mark Sonnenblick, and belted out by a glamazon cast in a ritzy, glitzy production by director and choreographer Jerry Mitchell that conquers the cavernous Dominion. 

‘Georgie Buckland makes an assertive West End debut as heroine Andy Sachs, though it can feel harder to empathise with this dowdy wannabe writer who reluctantly becomes Miranda’s assistant, embraces the bitchiness and backstabbing of the fashion world indecently quickly, and exhibits terrible romantic judgment.’

THE GUARDIAN

Rating:

 Arifa Akbar writes: ‘The sound is massive, with disco beats pumping and Elton John’s balladic piano-rock blaring.

‘It’s big all right, but perhaps it should have gone home because what is this, exactly? A prosecco o’clock musical, briskly directed and choreographed by Jerry Mitchell, that replicates the 2006 film starring Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway to within an inch of its haute couture-clad life, but without capturing its icy heart.

‘To give the show its due, the production values are high, Shaina Taub and Mark Sonnenblick’s lyrics are serviceable and John’s music exuberant.’

CITY AM

Rating:

Adam Bloodworth writes: The trouble with this musical is that Vanessa Williams is miscast as the magazine editor; her soft-around-the-edges performance lacking the fear factor and her delivery missing the comedy beats of lines. She is about as formidable as a pair of Primark pyjamas.

I assume she wanted to find a fresh way into the character first introduced in Lauren Weisberger’s 2003 novel following a young woman called Andy who interns at Priestly’s magazine. 

That’s fair enough, but this shoulders-down Priestly can’t command the stage or our attention: on occasions I found myself tuning out. 

TIME OUT 

Andrzej Lukowski writes: ‘The problem perhaps lies in the fact that the film already had the archness and acid one liners of a classic musical comedy. It needs to be pushed further, turned into something more, if there’s going to be any point to doing this. 

‘Instead Mitchell’s production is simply a nice evocation of the movie, with the zingy repartee constantly interrupted by characters insisting on singing, frequently more to comment on the action than to move it along.

‘Another issue is that while Elton John is an arresting name on the credits, he’s famously not a lyricist. Largely operating outside of his piano-based comfort zone – it’s more of an electro pop type affair – there’s very little of him obviously discernible in the show.’

THE NEW STATESMAN

 Kate Mossman writes: ‘I don’t know much about fashion, but the costumes in Elton John and Jerry Mitchell’s musical adaptation of The Devil Wears Prada are more The Only Way Is Essex than made in Milan.

‘In the unimprovable film, based on Lauren Weisberger’s book inspired by her time spent as Anna Wintour’s assistant, the miserable women at “Runway Magazine” looked devastatingly chic – it viciously criticised the fashion industry, but it constantly showed you its art and intelligence too. 

‘In this stage version, the models in the climactic Paris Fashion Week scene, hairspray and foundation aplenty, wear floor-length chiffon ballgowns in purple and pink, like casino babes in a 1970s Bond film.’

PATRICK MARMION: Elton’s score could have been written by AI and it all feels like a knock-off, but at least the tickets cost less than anything designer 

#You’ve got to feel for Sir Elton John. He’s had a wretched couple of weeks. On Sunday, he shocked fans at the gala night for The Devil Wears Prada musical with news that he had lost his eyesight.  

And this, after it was announced last month that another of his musicals, Tammy Faye, was closing on Broadway thanks to poor ticket sales.  

I don’t like to kick a man when he’s down. However, after seeing this soulless musical version of the Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway film, for which Elton wrote the score, I can offer scant consolation.

Where the movie had style and swagger, this production by veteran Broadway director Jerry Mitchell – supposedly re-worked since it first tried out in Chicago in 2022 and was dubbed a ‘haute mess’ by the New York Post – still looks like a cheap knock-off.

Transposing a snappy film with glamorous locations and Hollywood A-listers to the stage was never going to be easy. Even so, Kate Wetherhead’s book plods through the story of bright young fashion by-pass Andy, who wins a job at New York’s fictional fashion rag Runway magazine despite her cable knit tights.

Here she meets notorious editor Miranda Priestly, a gorgon-eyed fashion Nazi who goes through PAs like facial wipes.

But it’s also true that Sir Elton’s score, together with Shaina Taub and Mark Sonnenblick’s lyrics, fails to amplify the story.

It lacks wit, warmth or joie de vivre. And this from a composer whose greatest songs have been about young people like Andy struggling to find their way in a hostile world – think of Elton’s songs in Billy Elliot and The Lion King, not to mention albums like Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.

Shaina Taub, Sir Elton John and David Furnish speak on stage at ‘The Devil Wears Prada Musical’ charity gala night in support of the Elton John Aids Foundation at The Dominion Theatre on December 1, 2024 in London, England

Rhys Whitfield, Matt Henry, Vanessa Williams, Georgie Buckland and Amy Di Bartolomeo bow at the curtain call during ‘The Devil Wears Prada Musical’ charity gala night

Rehearsal for The Devil Wears Prada: A New Musical in this undated handout image in London, Britain

But Prada could have been composed by AI. Along with metronomic dance anthems, it includes a toe-curling duet – I Only Love You For Your Body – between Andy (Georgie Buckland) and her sappy chef boyfriend Nate (Rhys Whitfield) after he’s cooked her braised beef cheeks for dinner.

And Vanessa Williams as the office despot Miranda is as inscrutable as Melania Trump. She may be wholly resistant to emotional articulation – even by Sir Elton. At least her lines come with a thick layer of frost, and she serves well as a high-status vehicle for the Gucci sunglasses that win her a roar of approval from the audience when she rises through the floor in emulation of real-life Vogue super-editor Anna Wintour.

Buckland, however, struggles to breathe life into her role as Andy, which has a near-total personality

deficit. Her big moment in the film – slinging her phone into the Fontaine de la Concorde in Paris – is replaced by one where she simply drops it into a vase. Even her climactic outfit is… beige.

Yes she can hold a note (and shake a leg) in tunes including her hollow hymn of self-affirmation What’s Right For Me? But it’s not enough. Like Emily Blunt in the film, Amy Di Bartolomeo is a running joke as catty fashion desperado Emily, and she almost amuses with her sarcastic farewell Bon Voyage, when Andy gets to go to Paris instead of her.

Matt Henry offers a glimmer of warmth as Nigel, Andy’s confidant. Yet he also has the show’s most risible lyric in a supposedly soul-searching ballad, as he recalls his elite life in fashion fitting him ‘like a Lagerfeld glove’.

Tim Hatley’s set design has all the appeal of an airport departure lounge, despite panoramic projections of Manhattan Island and central Paris. Its finest moment is a cumbersome black staircase in an infernal, Alexander McQueen-style costume parade at a fateful charity ball.

And Mitchell’s choreography? Well, it’s little more than synchronised pole-dancing and cheerleading in haute couture.

While it is true that the ticket prices (which range from about £50 to £250) are much cheaper than almost anything you can buy from Prada, it is not unreasonable for us to have hoped for something more sensational.