Andy

“The Devil Wears Prada 2” opens like a knockoff of itself, with sight gags calling back to the mean quips in the 2006 hit: near-identical teal belts, a gala hailing the less-than-innovative theme “Spring Florals” and a red carpet that’s actually cerulean. Those belts, if you’ll remember, were the trigger for Meryl Streep’s Oscar-nominated speech about how her imperious fashion magazine editor in chief Miranda Priestly creates trends that trickle down to the rest of us rabble.

That first film (I’ll go ahead and anoint it a classic) followed a dowdy college graduate, Andy (Anne Hathaway), pursuing a low-level position at Runway magazine — Vogue in everything but name — as a bridge to a serious reporting career. Woe, said bridge is guarded by three trolls: fellow assistant Emily (Emily Blunt), tastemaker Nigel (Stanley Tucci) and the devil herself, Streep’s silver-haired Miranda, whose saintly last name is an ironic joke. Miranda is a riff on Vogue’s former editor in chief Anna Wintour, who used to be irritated by her caricature but eventually came around. After all, she’s getting played by Meryl Freaking Streep.

The setting was glam, the struggle relatable. Andy’s transition from sensible boots to stilettos served as a metaphor for the effort — even discomfort — it takes to chase your dreams, however they might evolve. “The Devil Wears Prada” gets celebrated for her makeover, with even Andy’s clueless boyfriend, played by Adrian Grenier, accusing her of caring about her Runway job solely for the shoes. No, it was never about the shoes. It was about respecting the workaholic she saw in the mirror.

The sequel, from returning director David Frankel and screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna, doesn’t find its own footing until it acknowledges that a Cinderella story about making it in journalism no longer fits. Gone are the days when Miranda and Nigel could casually tell their deep-pocketed publisher Irv (Tibor Feldman) that they’re junking a $300,000 photo shoot because it failed to reach their lofty standards. Likewise, Andy’s story starts when a magnate shutters her current job at a newspaper called the New York Vanguard, firing her and her colleagues for a $500-million tax write-off. (Cue the workers of at least one major Hollywood studio nodding in recognition.)

Hathaway’s Andy, smart and likable as ever, returns to a budget-slashed Runway as the features editor in charge of investigative pieces that online metrics reveal nobody reads — that is, until she breaks a celebrity engagement. Meanwhile, the internet has reduced Miranda to a meme. Her most recent viral scandal has gotten her animated into that Homer-Simpson-in-a-hedge GIF.

McKenna writes Miranda a self-aware scene where she acknowledges that her harsh reputation boosts her clout. Yet I wonder what Wintour will make of this diminished avatar pursuing the same promotion that she herself just claimed at Condé Nast as global head of content. After elevating custom couture to an art form, just the word “content” sounds like a demotion. Content is to prestige journalism what Shein is to Chanel.

Twenty years later, all of the money and power in publishing has been siphoned to the very, very rich. There seem to be as many billionaires in the script for “The Devil Wears Prada 2” as magazine assistants. Mighty Miranda must kowtow to the luxury brands and their ambassadors, whose sponsorship keeps Runway strutting, including the once-harried and humiliated Emily, who is now an executive at Dior. The tension is thicker than mink. The film franchise chooses to ignore original author Lauren Weisberger’s own 2013 follow-up novel “Revenge Wears Prada,” although I’d love to see a threequel that follows her lead and gives Blunt’s hilariously frosty Emily the center stage as she does in her third book, “When Life Gives You Lululemons.”

The storytelling is wonky, given the film’s competing needs to be Miranda-blunt about the modern magazine business while pairing marvelously with a glass of rosé. Instead of Paris, we’re now whisked to cameo-studded shindigs in the Hamptons and Milan, including a dinner party underneath Da Vinci’s mural of “The Last Supper.” (Not only is the painting’s topic apropos, Da Vinci himself butted heads with his wealthy patrons.) Much of the first half feels like we’re cooling our heels with the gang, waiting for a plot to start. There are a lot of idea threads that fray off and don’t go anywhere. Are we supposed to interpret anything from the fact that Miranda has succumbed to throwing a spring florals event — a theme she famously loathes — or are we just supposed to chuckle at the banner and move on? Also, no one in attendance is even wearing anything with flowers. Is the old gal slipping, or is the costume design?

Finally, things get going with a funeral — I won’t say whose, only that the death makes a fitting twist for an industry already getting the axe. Like Andy, I started writing for newspapers a few years after Craigslist decimated the classified page. My personal version of “The Devil Wears Prada” would be closer to a grindhouse flick. At least the Runway employees look killer at their own wake.

Twerpy MBAs force Miranda to fly coach. Of course you snicker — her character hasn’t gone past the first-class curtain since everyone onboard got served a hot meal and plenty of legroom. But there’s no schadenfreude watching her squeeze into a middle seat, no glee in her comeuppance. If Miranda Priestly can get thrown in steerage, we’re all screwed.

The movie is simultaneously more depressing than the original and more saccharine, with a repellent amount of affection between characters who should know better. Tucci’s endearingly steadfast Nigel is finally applauded for his years of service to Runway, and I was dismayed to find myself rolling my eyes at how corny the moment felt. Frankel and McKenna were geniuses to keep things callous on the first go-round, but they now add a romantic subplot between Andy and an Australian apartment contractor (Patrick Brammall) that detracts from the platonic workplace relationships — it’s fan service that I’m not sure fans actually want. Miranda, too, has found love again, and her new husband’s part is so small that I kept trying to convince myself that the actor couldn’t really be the great Kenneth Branagh..

Justin Theroux has a showier, funnier part as the billionaire Benji Barnes who, every time you see him, is holding court about another inane idea or giggling about how a civilization-destroying Pompeii disaster is on the horizon. Terrifyingly, he refers to “humans” in the third person, as if he no longer considers himself one of our species. Given the film’s interest in the figures gutting journalism and how his character’s ex-wife (Lucy Liu) refers to their marriage as being like “a rocket ship to a hall of mirrors,” he’s Jeff Bezos with a sprinkle of Elon Musk. It’s pointed timing, given that Bezos is sponsoring May’s Met Gala, wrapping the Wintour-chaired event in his brand like a giant cardboard box.

But enough about what “The Devil Wears Prada 2” has to say about the economy. How are the clothes? Aesthetically, I dug Andy and Miranda’s sleek menswear looks, lots of vests and blazers with panache. Narratively, their characters — a heroine and her nemesis — shouldn’t dress as though they could swap wardrobes. Then again, they’re here aligned as champions of art, beauty and the press, standing shoulder to shoulder in the all-but-hopeless fight to protect Runway from the philistines. The real devils wear Fitbits.

Dodgers left-hander Justin Wrobleski threw a gem in the Dodgers’ 4-0 win over the Mets on Monday.

He held the Mets to two hits in eight scoreless innings, the longest start of his pro career. He carried a perfect game into the fifth inning, with his defense backing up his efficient effort.

Shortstop Miguel Rojas fully laid out to his left in the second inning to field a sharp grounder off Bo Bichette’s bat, and then casually threw to first to complete the diving play. Third baseman Max Muncy made a leaping grab on Tyrone Taylor’s third-inning line drive.

Wrobleski made quick work of the rest.

Miguel Rojas doubles during the fourth inning Monday.

(Ronaldo Bolanos / Los Angeles Times)

He finally gave up a single to Jorge Polanco, on a ground ball through the right side of the infield, for the Mets’ first baserunner of the game with one out in the fifth inning.

Then Wrobleski induced Francisco Alvarez to bounce a soft ground ball up the middle. Dodgers second baseman Santiago Espinal set up next to the base to field the ball and turn an inning-ending double play.

Wrobleski got to flash the leather himself in the seventh. With two outs, he splintered Mark Vientos’ bat with an inside fastball and caught the resulting line drive.

Wrobleski didn’t allow a second baserunner until the eighth, retiring another nine straight before Alvarez hit a line drive single into shallow center field. One batter later, Wrobleski got out of the inning, with his pitch count at 90.

Left-handed reliever Tanner Scott took over in the ninth with a 4-0 lead and completed the shutout.

The Dodgers jumped out to an early lead. In the first inning, Mets starting pitcher David Peterson hit leadoff hitter Shohei Ohtani in the right shoulder with a 94-mph sinker. Next, Kyle Tucker drew a walk, and Will Smith drove in Ohtani with a single up the middle.

They piled on in the third with a three-run home run from Andy Pages, the Dodgers’ hottest hitter to start the year.

Roster move

The Dodgers put reliever Ben Casparius on the 15-day injured list Monday and recalled Kyle Hurt from triple A. It was the first bullpen-related roster move of the season.

Casparius (9.64 ERA) gave up a single and issued a walk in the seventh inning against the Rangers on Sunday, and when he came out for the eighth, he immediately gave up another single and walk, then left the game.

“I think [the injury] has some correlation to his second up last night,” Roberts said. “But as far as before, doubtful.”

Casparius is scheduled to undergo an MRI exam, manager Dave Roberts said.

Hurt posted a 3.68 ERA in seven spring-training appearances this year. He last pitched in a major-league game in April 2024, before undergoing Tommy John surgery.

Daly, 33, recently agreed a new deal to stay with Saracens until the end of the 2027-28 campaign.

This is the second time he has fractured an arm within the space of 10 months, having suffered the same injury during a warm-up game for the British and Irish Lions last July which ruled him out of the rest of their tour of Australia.

For Onyeama-Christie, 27, this is also the latest in a series of injuries he has had in recent seasons, having twice previously broken his arm and also fracturing and dislocating his ankle.

He has played in 19 games for the London club this campaign and, like Daly, also agreed new terms to extend his stay in February.

Saracens return to Prem action on 19 April away at Sale, with six games of the regular season to go.

They have, however, been boosted by the return of prop Alec Clarey, who has been out since November with injury.

Flanker Max Eke is also “nearing availability for selection” having not featured since February 2025, while fellow back row Toby Knight is also returning to training from a long-term knee injury, a club statement said.

Andy Pages hasn’t forgotten about last postseason, though he’d like to. And he’d surely like you to forget about it, too — or, well, most of it.

Feel free to retain the mental image of his epic smash-and-grab catch over teammate Kiké Hernández.

That stunning play in the bottom of the ninth inning didn’t just save Game 7 of the World Series, it also spared Pages’ reputation. Covered for the ignominy of his historically woeful four-for-51 hitting performance.

You know what will help everyone totally flush those memories? To turn the proverbial page? Maybe keep us from mentioning it ever again?

A steady diet of games like Thursday’s.

In an 8-2 season-opening victory over the Arizona Diamondbacks at Dodger Stadium, Pages stood out among his club’s standouts.

And, as the eighth man in the order, he also served up a reminder that there really will be no rest for weary opposing pitchers this season.

The buoyant bottom of the lineup has bite, too: Let the record show it was Pages who hit the Dodgers’ first home run and drove in the club’s first runs to kick off their pursuit of a third consecutive World Series championship.

That it was he who cracked the code against Diamondbacks righty Zac Gallen in the fifth inning, teeing off on a three-run, 400-foot home run to left-center field.

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And that it was his at-bat to lead off the eighth — a full-count single the other way, into right field — that Roberts had to mention postgame.

In spring training, Roberts anointed Pages as this season’s “pick-to-click” candidate, in part because of how hard the 25-year-old center fielder has been working on improving his plate discipline after swinging at 32% of pitches outside of the zone last year.

The pick-to-click distinction previously went to Teoscar Hernández in 2024, before he became an All-Star in his first season with the Dodgers. Last year, Michael Conforto was Roberts’ pick.

Small wonder, perhaps, that Pages isn’t putting too much stock in his manager’s prediction: “It feels really nice for him to say that about me, or to pick me, but obviously I’m not really focused on that,” he said, through an interpreter.

What he’s focused on, he said, “is just trying to do everything I can, every day, to get a little bit better.”

That’s what’s got his manager so revved up.

“He’s a complete player,” Roberts gushed. “And I’m excited to see what he can do this year.”

Is an Andy Pages Breakout Season loading?

Andy Pages, center, celebrates with Teoscar Hernández, left, and Max Muncy after hitting a three-run home run in the fifth inning Thursday against the Arizona Diamondbacks.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

Were last season’s 27 home runs — second most on the Dodgers, behind Shohei Ohtani’s 55 — not a breakout?

I think … not?

Not when Pages so clearly has so much more to give.

Now when he does his homework like he did this spring, stationing himself in front of a pitching machine, calling out balls and strikes. (Watch out, Automated Balls and Strikes system?)

Not if the Dodgers can come to trust him at the plate like they now feel secure with him blanketing the outfield.

“Even last year when there were questions if he could play center field at a high level,” Roberts said. “And he’s worked his tail off, he really has. Every single day, he’s putting in work and he just keeps getting better — his jumps, his lines to the ball, and obviously the arm strength is there.”

On Thursday, Pages had another one of his sensational snags, taking an angle that would’ve made a defensive back proud in pursuit of Geraldo Perdomo’s fly ball to start the seventh. Stretched out, Pages slid beneath the ball to add to his opening-day highlight reel.

“I feel good,” Pages said, when I asked him afterward not about last postseason, but about his confidence heading into this season — though his mind went back there anyway.

“It’s something that happened earlier, the postseason is what the postseason was,” he said. “I’m not really focused on that, I’m focused on what I’m doing right now and my confidence is really high right now.”

Keep it up, and all anyone will remember is the heroics — including those to come.