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'The Devil Wears Prada' is stylish fun

Future fashion journalists of America, take note: Your dream jobs are waiting.

Sure the positions might first be filled by boring Midwesterners like me, but gals like us, well, we don't know couture from poly-cotton blend, so heck, we won't last long.

20th Century Fox 'The Devil Wears Prada' 3 out of 5 stars The verdict: Anne Hawthaway charms while Meryl Streep frightens, devilishly so. Director: David Frankel Starring: Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Emily Blunt, Tracie Thoms, Adrian Grenier Run time: 106 minutes Release date: June 30, 2006 Rating: PG-13 for some sensuality. See showtimes On the web Official movie site View the trailer    Trailers require Quicktime Rate 'The Devil Wears Prada'   Go see it   Make it a matinee   Wait to rent   Don't bother Voter Limit: Once per Hour View Poll Results

Your dream will come true in no time. And us? Well, shucks, we'll find a nice little newspaper and follow our dreams, too.

That's the world of journalism according to "The Devil Wears Prada," a film adaptation of the 2003 novel of same name.

There's little in "Prada" that hasn't been covered in any other working-girl-chick-lit-turned-movie, but the delivery of some witty one-line zingers and a few priceless sneers by the "Devil" herself are tiny gems in an otherwise flat coming-of-age tale.

It's the story of Andrea Sachs, one of those dull Midwestern gals (they always are) who moves to New York City (they always do) to become a journalist and change the world.

When The New Yorker doesn't want her, Andrea (an uglified Anne Hathaway) interviews for a position as an assistant to Miranda Priestly, the editor of Runway magazine played by a soft-spoken yet intensely intimidating Meryl Streep.

Your dream job is Andrea's nightmare.

From day one, Andrea (Andy) is nothing more than a note-taking, dog-walking, skirt-fetching, purse-holding doormat for her boss.

It doesn't help that Andy is fashionably challenged (She asks, "Can you spell Gab-ba-na?") and, dare I say, a size 6.

Streep is stunningly scary as she manages to bark Miranda's devilish demands barely louder than a whisper, punctuating each page-long list of orders with an almost sweet-sounding yet condescending "That's all."

These orders of Miranda's are nothing short of impossible tasks, like tracking down the unpublished manuscript of the new Harry Potter book for the editor's twin brats. But Andy digs in her heels, doing her best for the Cruella DeVille of fashion editors, hoping her good deeds won't go unnoticed when it's time to get a real job.

Hathaway is adorable to watch as she remains an idealist, telling everyone that her job as Miranda's dutiful servent is only temporary and how she dreams of one day writing about politics and foreign affairs.

It's when the head of the art department Nigel (a pink shirt-wearing Stanley Tucci) helps Andy with a makeover, that she finally realizes happiness does come in the form of Marc Jacobs handbags and Manolo Blahnik strappy sandals. Who knew?

That's naturally when Andy and her dream-chasing boyfriend Nate ("Entourage's" Adrian Grenier) get all "I don't even know who you are anymore!" (Cue tears, now a sappy pop song ... and, scene.)

When a trip to a Paris fashion show is dangled in front of her eyes, Andy faces a conundrum: Stay in fashion and get free Hermes scarves for life or quit and follow her dreams of exposing the injustices of janitors' unions?

"Wow, I'm like, totally gonna be her," journalism undergrads everywhere will coo as they exit theaters. Yeah, and I'm the next Helen Thomas.

But I must confess I was rooting for Andy the whole way, hoping she would see the light and get out of the Vogue-like offices and start pounding the pavement and chasing ambulances for a city newspaper.

My only question for director David Frankel is, where was the scene of Andy running between taxis and gleefully tossing a Chanel cap into the air a la Mary Tyler Moore?

Isn't that exactly what dull Midwestern girls do when they realize they've made it, after all?