the devil is sending young women the wrong message

I first saw The Devil Wears Prada in a pre-screening event in NYC some years ago.  I adore Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci.  While I didn't love her at the time, somewhere around Brokeback Mountain I finally admitted to myself that I like Anne Hathaway.  And Emily Blunt was, come on, perfect for this role.  It seemed like a fun, innocuous way to spend an evening.

I left the theater furious.  Then some years passed and I pretty much forgot about the movie.  Until I found it while flipping through TV channels.  I thought, "it was pretty cute. I'll give it a second chance."

No, no.  Just as angry after the second watching.

Here's my beef:

Anne Hathaway's character, Andy, moves to NYC in the hopes of becoming a journalist and scores a pay-your-dues craptastic job as an assistant to the "devilish" editor in chief of a fashion mag.  Since little Andy hates fashion, she thinks she is above it all until she gets sucked into the seductive world of clothes, parties, and being--um--really good at her job.  Along the way, she supposedly loses sight of herself and what is important to her.  

After being forced to work late on her boyfriend's birthday to attend a gala, Andy rushes home to apologize to him instead of staying the extra half hour when a mentor journalist offers to introduce her to editors of the kinds of magazines that she dreams of writing for.  She says no!  She goes home to mopey boyfriend instead!  

This is where the movie first veers off course for me.  Isn't the whole point of craptastic dues-paying jobs and missing loved ones' birthdays precisely for that moment?  What is the point of her work if she doesn't go meet the editor?  Boyfriend is going to be unhappy no matter what.

Then... Emily Blunt's character (did I mention she is my favorite in the movie) fucks up and Andy picks up the slack.  She is rewarded for this by Meryl Streep's character.  Hooray!  All that crap work is paying off, right?  Well no, at least not according to the moral of this story.  Instead, when Andy realizes that she has stabbed Emily Blunt in the back by succeeding, she walks off into the Paris sunset, unwilling to be a terrible person just to succeed at her job.  Meryl Streep watches her leave with a mix of regret and pride.

WTF?  WTF?

Since when is getting ahead in your job because you are better at it than others "stabbing people in the back?"  Isn't that meritocracy?  Isn't that good?  Effectiveness should outweigh seniority in the workplace.  

Since when is it the right choice to leave your career-making job because your friends miss you?  You're supposed to leave your amazing job and work for shit pay at a no name outfit because you'll have more integrity that way?

Oh, and while all this is happening, Andy's boyfriend is moving ahead in his notoriously cutthroat dues-paying field: as a chef.  But no complaining about that.  No.

The message of the movie is this:  Women who want to respect themselves and be showered with love by friends should not succeed in their careers.  And that is one devil of a moral.