(Courtesy: fiftyshadesmovie.com)
Buckle your seat belts, because I’m about to get Fifty Shades Snarkier.
It’s been two years since the uninitiated non-readers among us were introduced to the tortured but smoldering billionaire Christian Grey and his infatuation with the coy but precocious Anastasia Steele. Personally, I can’t help but wonder if author E.L. James would go back and change those ridiculous stripper monikers to something a little more believable if she knew that her vampire erotica would eventually become a multi-million dollar enterprise.
Still, in 2015, Ellie Goulding and The Weeknd sang along to a seemingly endless torrent of forced dialogue and a host of minimally stimulating sex scenes while America watched. Jamie Dornan and Dakota Johnson, the latter with whom I am admittedly and inexplicably obsessed, have less chemistry than oil and water. However, the sequel, which was highly anticipated by millions of Chardonnay drinkers and Lane Bryant wearers across the country, is better than the original.
First, there is infinitely more character development. We finally get a glimpse at Christian’s past as he tries to win Ana back. From the physical abuse in his childhood to the emotional abuse in his early adulthood, it’s hard not to pity the man, even as he flies a private helicopter to his penthouse apartment (an apartment, which, in my opinion, was the most arousing part of the movie. I’m a huge fan of the sleek modern architecture, even more so than the nipple clamps and Ben Wa balls.)
Second, there are several visually impressive scenes, most of which involve some sort of expensive-looking excursion or incorporate rain and the Seattle skyline.
Finally, more stuff just happens in this movie than in the first. There’s some workplace drama, some corporate intrigue and even a little aerodynamic peril. We get to see much more of Christian’s family life and learn a bit more about what makes him tick. There’s a threat (or two or three) that actually move the plot, whereas the first movie was just an extremely melodramatic soft-core porno.
Still, I just can’t get on board. It’s a question I’ve heard thrown around quite a bit, but if Christian weren’t rich but still into serious BDSM, would Ana even be with him? Yes, they are ostensibly in love, and maybe this is just my classist bias showing, but isn’t there something slightly more creepy about a regular guy who wants to tie you up than a business tycoon?
While “Fifty Shades Darker” is an improvement upon the first movie in many ways, it still comes up short of being a recommendable movie. For starters, the writing is excruciating. The screenplay was written by Niall Leonard, a switch from Samuel Taylor-Johnson on the original and a nepotistic choice given that Leonard is married to E.L. James. This means the dialogue is on a whole new level of sophomoric background noise.
Jamie Dornan is not a good actor. Neither his jaw line nor all the Lululemon in the world can fix that. It’s an unfortunate reality, especially when he shares the screen with Dakota Johnson, who is a blessing to us all.
In yet another “This is Why Trump Won” moment, the critics on Rotten Tomatoes are currently at a 9 percent, while the audience is at 60 percent. At one point early on, when most of the people who had seen and reviewed the film were probably either fans of the novels or critics themselves, that gap stood at 8 to 80. A disparity is usually expected, but this sort of difference is excessive. My girlfriend liked the movie, as did the couple behind us who won this year’s Oscar for Worst Parenting for bringing their infant (INFANT!!!) child to this movie.
Look, I get it. Jamie Dornan is hot. So is Dakota Johnson (although this is apparently up for debate after a Twitter poll I ran that is now making me question the eyesight of my followers). The soundtrack is fire. But as a piece of art, as something that is supposed to stir in us a few more emotions than just lust and a bit more critical observation than drooling, “Fifty Shades Darker” falls flat.
Grade: C-
