Brace yourselves, bookworms; the highly anticipated “Fifty Shades of Grey” film-adaptation falls flaccid, lacking the dangerous sex appeal that kept bookstore shelves empty and the latex industry in business.
The film follows a virginal Anastasia Steele, played by Dakota Johnson, who falls in love with the deeply disturbed billionaire tycoon Christian Grey, played by Jaime Dornan.
His uncanny love for floggers, whips and butt-plugs leaves little Ms. Steele scrambling for some trace of passion, love and normality.
Unlike the book, in which the attraction between Steele and Grey is “electric,” their first couple of meetings, as portrayed in the film, are painfully awkward. Ana appears more indifferent than awestruck.
But no amount of brow furrowing could have given our leading man the dominance that Grey’s provocative character demands. Sure, he’s beautiful, but a couple of acting classes would have done him well.
The highly publicized elevator make-out scene is a feeble attempt at intensity and sexual frustration. It looks more like the kiss we see at the end of Shrek. Wasn’t it supposed to be exhilarating?
The chemistry comes when Steele blushingly admits she’s a virgin and he sets out to rectify her “situation.”
Unfortunately, the sex scenes prove just how incompatible the two really are.
Every smack on the butt was more rehearsed and tame than frisky. Her, um, “sex faces” were as ridiculous and exaggerated as the ones you’d expect from a porno. Not to mention the fact that every sex scene was heavily cut, giving the film a music-video feel.
If it weren’t for the frequent nudity, there would be no sign of a steamy, BDSM power game. The star-crossed lovers struggle to fit into their dominant/submissive roles.
Another downside to the cinematic experience is sitting through countless butchered clichés.
Grey’s infamous “laters, baby,” “I would like to bite that lip,” and “I don’t make love, I f-ck … hard” are more hilarious than arousing.
Not to mention that you’d have to actually read the book in order to understand his instant obsession with her, her willingness to admit her love to him even after he beat her with a belt and the speed with which their relationship develops.
But not all is bad.
Steele’s goofy and witty personality gives the film unexpected, and maybe unintentional, humor.
Best of all, the script doesn’t sway too far from the book. The screenplay honors the original obsession set by the book, which erected the most inadmissible fantasies from the darkest corners of its readers’ minds.
Despite the criticism, the Sam Taylor-Johnson directed film ranked in the holiday cash, earning an astonishing $81.7 million in just three days, setting the record for the highest-grossing Presidents Day release of all time, according to New York-based entertainment magazine Variety.
The film has the potential to give fans everything they so patiently waited for, but the acting ruined any promise the screenplay had to offer audiences. The amateur role-playing from an ill humored, cast-call gag leaves audiences scrambling for a safe word.
