Jamie Dornan's Christian Grey summarised Fifty Shades better than I ever could when he snarled on screen that he's 'Fifty shades of f**ked up!' Damn right Jamie – although I was thinking more along the lines of the film's 'Fifty shades of f**king boring'. Yeah, folks. It's disappointingly underwhelming although, it's not all doom and gloom thanks to the injection of a little humour - but I'll get to that in a minute.
It also makes you wonder to what extent and in what ways did the 'logger-heading' between Fifty Shades of Grey author E. L. James and the film's entire entourage (everyone from the production house to screenwriter Kelly Marcel and director Sam Taylor-Johnson), affect the final outcome of certain scenes and to the film as a whole. For example, if you pay close attention to the film's dialogue, you'll quickly notice that there's two diametrically opposing writing styles that effect a kind of discordant rhythm.
James and Taylor-Johnson have readily admitted to contentions on-set particularly, in regards to the sex scenes. If truth be told, I'm really curious to know who was responsible for those insipidly lackluster scenes because if that's their idea of kink their vanilla must be rigidly puritanical! Plus, it's an impressive feat to have single-handedly pre-ejaculated all the semi-curious sexuals back out of that luxuriously enticing Red Room and right back in to their pulpy vanilla playpens.
Despite saying all this, Taylor-Johnson's caning scene just inside the entry of David Wasco's super-luxurious Red Room is deliciously titillating and beautifully crafted. It epitomises the ethos that the submissive (even whilst naked and in the waiting position) controls the power – to wield and submit – within the dynamic of their BDSM relationship. Likewise, the suspended hanky-spanky scene with the riding crop is also nicely executed, though I wish artist Taylor-Johnson had gone one step further and used the film as an opportunity to introduce viewers to the intricately beautiful art of Shibari.
Taylor-Johnson's sleek and elegant adaption of E. L. James' 'holy craptastic' Harlequinesque porn-oh-story Fifty Shades of Grey follows the sexual awakening of English-literature ingénue Anastasia 'Ana' Steele (Dakota Johnson). As a favour to her sick roommate Kate (played by Eloise Mumford), Ana agrees to cover an interview with billionaire entrepreneur and University benefactor Christian Grey for their college newspaper. On entering Grey's austere office, Ana and Christian are immediately intrigued by the other: she, by his punctilious aloofness and he, by her unaffected innocence and youthful beauty. Ana wants romance and a loving relationship; Christian wants her to f**k. But only with a contract of course.
Intrigue soon turns to infatuation as Grey creates right-place-right-time encounters with Ana such as bumping into her at the hardware store where she works. The ensuing tête-à- tête cleverly crafted by Marcel, is playfully humorous and witty as wide-eyed Ana helps Christian locate cable ties, duct tape and lengths of rope. 'You're the complete serial killer,' Ana quips to Christian, a reference that also alludes to Dornan's previous role as a stalking serial killer in the BBC's The Fall.
Following unannounced visits at Ana's home, her work and her mother's home in Florida, their mutual obsession culminates in Christian whisking Ana away for the weekend in his helicopter to his Seattle apartment. Ana's anticipation of a 'romantic' weekend turns to intellectual curiosity when Christian reveals his singular proclivities, before asking the sexually inexperienced Ana if she would agree (contractually), to become his submissive followed closely by a showing of his play room.
Johnson is magnetic as the quietly confident and not so naive virgin who contemplates letting go of traditional conventions to explore her sexuality. You can't help but follow every fluid (and awkward) movement she males on screen and be entranced by the way she manages to conveys every new experience and psyche layer so openly. She also succeeds in embracing the absurdity of the text and her butt-plugging control freak by playing the player with tongue-in-cheek barbs and quick-as-a-whip deliveries. The contract negotiation scene is particularly entertaining.
On the other hand, Dornan the poor soul is a cardboard cutout up sh*t creek without a paddle. There's nowhere he could go with his two-dimensional, all brawn / no brain character no matter how hard he tried to humanise the body-bot. And with Razzie worthy lines like 'I f**k hard', 'Me' and 'I'm fifty shades of f**ked up', I'm impressed Dornan managed to remain so stoic and not inadvertently introduce water sports to the BDSM table.
In a nutshell, FIFTY SHADES OF GREY is an intricately carved chessboard in need of a Grand Master. It's well directed, decadently constructed, and exquisitely shot, not to mention built around a tantalising premise that explores an erotic practice very few people truly understand or practice. The film also addresses unhinging traditional norms and personal sexploration. Unfortunately, the script fails to capitalise on its golden opportunity to demystify and educate the masses about BDSM. And let's not mention (again) that the inchoate script exposes the discord within the script writing department.
Perhaps they should have watched Disney's FROZEN beforehand. That way they would have known to let it go, let it go and preferably to a Bergman-esque art house in France, Sweden or Poland.
It also makes you wonder to what extent and in what ways did the 'logger-heading' between Fifty Shades of Grey author E. L. James and the film's entire entourage (everyone from the production house to screenwriter Kelly Marcel and director Sam Taylor-Johnson), affect the final outcome of certain scenes and to the film as a whole. For example, if you pay close attention to the film's dialogue, you'll quickly notice that there's two diametrically opposing writing styles that effect a kind of discordant rhythm.
James and Taylor-Johnson have readily admitted to contentions on-set particularly, in regards to the sex scenes. If truth be told, I'm really curious to know who was responsible for those insipidly lackluster scenes because if that's their idea of kink their vanilla must be rigidly puritanical! Plus, it's an impressive feat to have single-handedly pre-ejaculated all the semi-curious sexuals back out of that luxuriously enticing Red Room and right back in to their pulpy vanilla playpens.
Despite saying all this, Taylor-Johnson's caning scene just inside the entry of David Wasco's super-luxurious Red Room is deliciously titillating and beautifully crafted. It epitomises the ethos that the submissive (even whilst naked and in the waiting position) controls the power – to wield and submit – within the dynamic of their BDSM relationship. Likewise, the suspended hanky-spanky scene with the riding crop is also nicely executed, though I wish artist Taylor-Johnson had gone one step further and used the film as an opportunity to introduce viewers to the intricately beautiful art of Shibari.
Taylor-Johnson's sleek and elegant adaption of E. L. James' 'holy craptastic' Harlequinesque porn-oh-story Fifty Shades of Grey follows the sexual awakening of English-literature ingénue Anastasia 'Ana' Steele (Dakota Johnson). As a favour to her sick roommate Kate (played by Eloise Mumford), Ana agrees to cover an interview with billionaire entrepreneur and University benefactor Christian Grey for their college newspaper. On entering Grey's austere office, Ana and Christian are immediately intrigued by the other: she, by his punctilious aloofness and he, by her unaffected innocence and youthful beauty. Ana wants romance and a loving relationship; Christian wants her to f**k. But only with a contract of course.
Intrigue soon turns to infatuation as Grey creates right-place-right-time encounters with Ana such as bumping into her at the hardware store where she works. The ensuing tête-à- tête cleverly crafted by Marcel, is playfully humorous and witty as wide-eyed Ana helps Christian locate cable ties, duct tape and lengths of rope. 'You're the complete serial killer,' Ana quips to Christian, a reference that also alludes to Dornan's previous role as a stalking serial killer in the BBC's The Fall.
Following unannounced visits at Ana's home, her work and her mother's home in Florida, their mutual obsession culminates in Christian whisking Ana away for the weekend in his helicopter to his Seattle apartment. Ana's anticipation of a 'romantic' weekend turns to intellectual curiosity when Christian reveals his singular proclivities, before asking the sexually inexperienced Ana if she would agree (contractually), to become his submissive followed closely by a showing of his play room.
Johnson is magnetic as the quietly confident and not so naive virgin who contemplates letting go of traditional conventions to explore her sexuality. You can't help but follow every fluid (and awkward) movement she males on screen and be entranced by the way she manages to conveys every new experience and psyche layer so openly. She also succeeds in embracing the absurdity of the text and her butt-plugging control freak by playing the player with tongue-in-cheek barbs and quick-as-a-whip deliveries. The contract negotiation scene is particularly entertaining.
On the other hand, Dornan the poor soul is a cardboard cutout up sh*t creek without a paddle. There's nowhere he could go with his two-dimensional, all brawn / no brain character no matter how hard he tried to humanise the body-bot. And with Razzie worthy lines like 'I f**k hard', 'Me' and 'I'm fifty shades of f**ked up', I'm impressed Dornan managed to remain so stoic and not inadvertently introduce water sports to the BDSM table.
In a nutshell, FIFTY SHADES OF GREY is an intricately carved chessboard in need of a Grand Master. It's well directed, decadently constructed, and exquisitely shot, not to mention built around a tantalising premise that explores an erotic practice very few people truly understand or practice. The film also addresses unhinging traditional norms and personal sexploration. Unfortunately, the script fails to capitalise on its golden opportunity to demystify and educate the masses about BDSM. And let's not mention (again) that the inchoate script exposes the discord within the script writing department.
Perhaps they should have watched Disney's FROZEN beforehand. That way they would have known to let it go, let it go and preferably to a Bergman-esque art house in France, Sweden or Poland.