Fifty Shades of Blah
Fifty Shades of Blah
Imagine an average-looking guy purchases from you all the supplies necessary to abduct you. Then he asks you out for coffee. Do you go? Only if you are THE STUPIDEST PERSON ON THE PLANET. Now imagine he tells you he’d like to smack you around a little, you politely decline and ask to be taken home, and he stops in the woods and suggests a walk. Do you go? Only if you are THE STUPIDEST PERSON ON THE PLANET.
Add a billion dollars and a nifty wardrobe and you have Christian Grey, of Fifty Shades of Grey. Opposite him, biting her luscious lower lip, is Anastasia Steele, one of the few women able to graduate from college still a virgin, not only naïve but also, apparently, THE STUPIDEST PERSON ON THE PLANET.
The theater at Citadel Mall was full when I saw Fifty Shades of Grey on Valentine’s night, apparently filled with patrons hoping for a sexy date-night movie, as well as women hoping to make Christian Grey their Valentine.
The movie, for the one unaware person in the world, is the film version of the wildly popular BDSM fantasy books that had women all over the country saying, “He wants to put a WHAT, WHERE?”
Neither the book nor the movie are actually about sex, though, as is made abundantly clear by how very unsexy the actual movie is. Sure, Anastasia Steele writhes around and bites her lip again as Christian Grey tickles her with a whip, but she finds out quickly that he’s mostly a flog-em-and-leave-em type. Not only does he roll over and go to sleep, neglecting the post-coital cuddle, he rolls over and goes to a whole different room to sleep.
It’s all about control and domination. And, while that is definitely a subculture, seeing someone’s very first experience with sex being all about being dominated (he wants to dictate what she eats, what doctor prescribes her birth control, etc.) feels ickily like abuse.
During the last scene, the audience gasped at the abrupt ending and not because it was a twist. No, it was the sound of hopes evaporating for getting laid with the help of a sexy Valentine’s Day movie. Because this movie just isn’t sexy.
The only time a moan escaped anyone’s lips was when they showed Christian Grey’s massive closet, all dark wood and clever drawers, each silky tie rolled neatly into its own compartment. Now, that closet? It was orgasmic.