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| Count on Dietrich to out-Miranda Priestly Streep herself! |
Whenever I watch
Stage Fright and
The Devil Wears Prada, I revel in the insults that grand dames
Charlotte Inwood (
Marlene Dietrich) and
Miranda Priestly (
Meryl Streep) hurl at
Eve Gill (
Jane Wyman) and
Andrea "Andy" Sachs (
Anne Hathaway), two plain Janes who--like quinoa--are so bland that no one can get their names right. Listening to
Erika von Schlütow's (again, Dietrich) clawed comments about and toward Senator
Phoebe Frost (
Jean Arthur) in
A Foreign Affair also elicits the same delight.
At times, I envision these three movies as a cinematic collage of hilarious derision, and when I learned about "The Great Recasting" blogathon hosted by
Frankly, My Dear and
In The Mood, I spied an opportunity to mingle a few of my favorite icy characters.
Following the rules of "The Great Recasting," I'm appropriating the 2006 flick,
The Devil Wears Prada, by imagining it as a 1951 movie called
The Devil Wears Dior (the fashion house that dressed Dietrich for
Stage Fright, a movie heavily screen-capped in this entry), recasting Dietrich and Wyman (who must have been a masochist in my alternate universe) as Miranda and Andy's characters respectively due to their antagonistic onscreen chemistry, with
A Foreign Affair's director--the comedic genius,
Billy Wilder--at the helm. Those of you familiar with
The Devil Wears Prada,
Stage Fright, and
A Foreign Affair will recognize the pastiche of dialogue from all three of these flicks, but in a distilled bitchy brew--without the added ingredients of murder, post-war occupation, and romance. Consider it a sort of Socratic dialogue gone camp that probably would have flopped and become a cult classic. Rather than explain why I made all these choices for my "The Great Recasting" entry, I'll show you by biting the style of a blog that entertains me--
I'm Not Patty. Let's get on with it!
The Devil Wears Dior
1951
directed by Billy Wilder
STARRING Marlene Dietrich as Anaïs Silkman Bloom, editor-in-chief of the trans-Atlantic women's fashion magazine, Nouvelle Vue. Anaïs has a penchant for Dior and may be a jab at a few fashion arbiters of the '50s publishing world, e.g., Harper's Bazaar's Carmel Snow, American Vogue's Edna Woolman Chase, and British Vogue's Audrey Withers.
WITH Jane Wyman as Annabel "Billy" Fox, a fresh-faced Vassar graduate who thought she'd be writing on postwar politics in The New Republic--not schlepping stockings at Nouvelle Vue.
PLUS, a supporting cast meant solely for added comic relief.
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Annabel "Billy" Fox has a big day ahead of her! She's got an interview with some magazine called Nouvelle Vue, which may not be her cup of tea, but at least it will give her an entrée into publishing.
Here she is dolling herself up for the prospective job.
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Fortunately, Billy has toned down her look a bit after realizing that she isn't going to become the next
Ida M. Tarbell at a fashion rag. As she enters the Nouvelle Vue office, her nerves start to overwhelm her. |
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| Rightfully so! Billy's come in for an interview right when editor-in-chief Anaïs Silkman Bloom is busily "auditioning" veils for an upcoming article about the most glamorous widows on Park Ave. |
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| Without even glancing at the schoolmarm in Sears, Roebuck & Co. mail order togs, Anaïs asks, "Who are you?" Billy answers, "I'm Annabel Fox, a recent Vassar graduate--" |
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Before Billy can brag about her achievements,
Anaïs turns toward her and interrupts, "Why are you here?" |
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| Taken aback, Billy blurts, "Well, Miss Bloom, it was either this or Hot Rod magazine." |
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| "You don't read Nouvelle Vue, do you?" |
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| "No." |
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| "And before today, you'd never heard of me." |
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| "No." |
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| "And I see you do not believe in lipstick. And what a curious way to do your hair--or rather not to do it." |
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| "Well, I think that's a matter of perso--" |
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| "No, that wasn't a question! Read your resume to me, dear. Not so loud, though." |
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| Anaïs, however, resumes her fitting and announces, "That's all." |
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| Taking the hint, Billy sees her way out. . . . |
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but her bruised ego compels her to step back and declare, "Madame, I may not be a fashion plate,
but I've got brains, and I'm willing to work fingers to the bone." Anaïs merely repeats, "That's all." |
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| Before Billy exits the building, one of Anaïs's lackeys gives her the good yet perplexing news, "You got the job!" |
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Attending to Anaïs's every need, Billy can barely keep up
with the unfamiliar names and terms thrown her way.
"Mavis, I need 27 fuschia coats from Bonnie Cashin!" |
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| "Phyllis, get me a Balmain stole!" |
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| "Emily, book Dovima for the next cover shoot!" |
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Although Billy usually listens obediently to Anaïs, she eventually slips and smirks,
which provokes Anaïs to verbally eviscerate her. "You see that smock you're wearing?" Anaïs inquires. |
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| Dumbfounded, Billy nods her head. |
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| "Well," Anaïs continues, "while you may believe that you take yourself
too seriously to care about what you put on your back, what you don't
realize is that in 1942, the editors of Nouvelle Vue decided to print some Rosie the Riveter cartoons that featured the smock. By 1945, Marilyn Monroe wore a smock that skyrocketed her to stardom in photos published by Nouvelle Vue.
From there, the smock trickled down to the tragic Bon Marché bargain
bin where you grabbed it. So, your smock was chosen for you by the
people in this room." |
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| After that brutal chastisement, Billy was sure she had enough. Then, Anaïs's right-hand man [I couldn't help but recast Hector MacGregor as Stanley Tucci's unforgetable Nigel!] told her, "You know, Billy, you’re not bad-looking. You don’t treat your face properly. That’s all. If you fixed your hair up and used some makeup, you’d be quite attractive." |
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| Following this advice and perhaps with a bit of Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's magic, Billy transforms into the glamorous assistant she was meant to be. |
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| The transformation even shocks jaded Anaïs, who exclaims, "Darling! What ever happened to that peculiar figure of yours?" And this is where I ought to end my recasting because I lost interest in The Devil Wears Prada after everyone stopped mocking my pet hate, Anne Hathaway. Also, Wyman reverts to wearing that boxy blazer for the rest of Stage Fright, which ruins the impact of screen-caps. |
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