“Fifty Shades of Grey” reminds me of “Twilight.” Perhaps that is a bit unfair, but it’s true nonetheless. Both take place in the state of Washington, both feature a heroine that is lured into the world of a man that is clearly wrong for her, and both paint their characters so incredibly thin that they lie on looks and production value almost solely to sell their story. “Twilight” is young adult fiction; “Fifty Shades” borders on quasi rated-X. Against my preconceived notions, however, I must say that the film is not without merit. It’s boring at times, unexpectedly, has capable acting, and is filmed remarkably well. But its heart is missing, and that’s not an easy transgression to overlook.
Let’s get one thing straight off the bat. This movie is about abuse. Sure, it’s about relationships, about opening up in them (or being unable to), about negotiating for what you need. But it takes every opportunity to glorify abuse, offering a ‘contract’ as a preemptive defense against the violence the movie hides lurking under the surface. That it takes most of the film’s run-time for this abuse to come front and center, and that its heroine does not accept it, are apologies offered too little too late. The film is not sexy, but, subtly, monstrous.
Director Sam Taylor-Johnson renders the film in an inescapable mystery and intrigue. But she seems to forget she is playing with fire until a forlorn scene that comes far later than it should have. Jamie Dornan plays Christian Grey, a billionaire businessman in Seattle. Dakota Johnson (“The Social Network”), plays a college student sent to interview Grey in her sick roommates’ stead, who soon becomes enamored with Grey and his dark world. It’s a credit to the film that Grey shows her his ‘playroom’—a room cast in a reddish hue, strewn with whips, handcuffs, and rope—roughly 30 minutes into the movie, but its lead doesn’t enter this room until the film’s near-conclusion. “Grey” begins and opens here. It also ends here; the credits don’t roll, but they might as well have. It’s a credit to its director that we, as the audience, sense this.
From a production standpoint, it’s hard to find fault with this film. The acting offered by Dornan and Johnson is something to behold, especially during some of the films’ more tense or gut-wrenching scenes (while this notion lurks under the surface, truly this is limited to one scene). Johnson seems to imbue her character with all the right quirks and emotions, and, while Grey is one-sided and flat as a desert road, Dornan dredges up something that mirrors as understanding from the viewing audience.
It’s a shame that the film, based off the novel by E.L. James, throws away its’ deeper treasure in favor of S&M; of feather ticklers and nudity rather than depth. Make no mistake; Johnson is mostly naked for a good percentage of this film. Dornan is less so. Grey is guarded and Steele is not. Grey recounts a story of his first experience in S&M, playing ‘submissive’ (what he longs for Steele to be to him) to an older woman. He still talks to this woman today, he shares. “She’s a friend,” he states. “She’s a child abuser,” Anastasia quickly retorts.
It’s times like these that the movie borders on intelligent, picking away at something deeper. However, it never quite gets there. “Grey” pecks at the surface, clamoring for attention as a serious film, but ultimately it’s too hard for its audience to overlook its attempts to glorify abuse. Its realistic, forlorn, and needed ending shows that Taylor-Johnson partly understand this. But it doesn’t make its conclusion any more satisfying. “Fifty Shades” leaves you with a dirty feeling, and, instead of focusing on its subtle insights into human nature in relationships, it borders instead on an abusive boyfriend scenario, except here the boyfriend stops when asked. But it doesn’t make it any more rewarding or forgivable.
At the end of the day, “Fifty Shades” isn’t painful to watch, although it should be. It features bright, crisp cinematography, good acting, and a gorgeous soundtrack featuring a new rendition of Jay Hawkins’ “I Put a Spell on You” and Beyoncé’s mesmerizing track “Haunted.” However, it’s hard to root for this film. Dornan is just too flat and unmistakably twisted to like, and Johnson’s sweetness and charm give way to her desire to choke her emotional needs to “Grey’s” bad boy. It’s painfully obvious that the film’s characters are following the plot of a book and not flesh and blood humans. Had it dug a little deeper, “Fifty Shades” may have had more to offer. Sequels are in the works; and while Dornan and Johnson are both intriguing, maybe the film should have just stopped at one.
