The character of Christian Grey and the film Fifty Shades Of Grey operate in nearly the same way. Based on a Twilight fan fiction written by E.L. James under a prior pseudonym, its star is just as stoic and creepily obsessive as Edward Cullen, but far more self conscious. Grey (Jamie Dornan) constructs an image of professionalism, charm and stability in public in order to distract from his possessive nature and sexual kinks.
Likewise the movie tries desperately to create an image of him as a poor misunderstood rich boy, but it’s downright impossible to sympathize with him based on his idea of what a “dominant” personality is. Its logic is so ass-backwards, it actually flows better if you pretend you’re watching a thriller and Grey is the villain.
There are numerous moments when Grey, a young bachelor and entrepreneur with a Scrooge McDuck level bankroll, appears almost out of thin air across from another state and hounds his designated Bella Swan. This time Bella is renamed Anastasia Steele (Dakota Johnson), a mild mannered college journalist who- and I use the term very loosely- “befriends” Grey after she interviews him for her campus newspaper. Right now I can think of at least two other films that not only were better written in general, but had more proactive and compelling protagonists named Anna.
Sadly, this Ana takes far too long to finally woman up. After their first meeting, Grey dotes attention and gifts on her until she relents and accompanies him on a private helicopter date, which takes them to his apartment where he presents Ana with a non-disclosure agreement and introduces her to his BDSM lifestyle. As their relationship progresses, Ana finds herself turned on by Grey’s fantasies but frustrated by his lack of interest in romance. She presses him about his past and what exactly shaped his interests, but he’s hesitant to spill the beans.
It’s easy to tell from the first minute Ana and Christian aren’t right for each other, and the way it unfolds doesn’t make for compelling drama. Dakota Johnson’s Ana is occasionally charming in some scenes, but she spends much of the movie on her heels, intimidated by Grey’s presence. Jamie Dornan loses himself in his character, but he can’t keep Christian from coming across as an emotionally abusive and predatory spoiled brat. He wants what he wants when he wants it, and when he finally opens up to Ana about his background, it doesn’t make up for his lack of empathy. Or not being able to grasp the concept of, y’know, personal space.
Also, most of the side characters are irrelevant. With the exception of Ana’s roommate Kate (Eloise Mumford), the supporting cast barely has any screen time, and when they do they skimp on their dialogue. Rita Ora’s in this and she does like nothing, they’re all just there to get Ana and Christian from Point A to Point B. In this case, Point B being the Cinemax style sexplay, which is mostly shown from Grey’s P.O.V, despite Ana oddly enough being the one who narrates the experiences in the book.
So is there anything worthwhile about the Fifty Shades film adaption? Director Sam Taylor-Johnson and cinematographer Seamus McGarvey (Avengers, Godzilla) do mange to make it visually striking, with a lot of gun-metal tones and camera trickery that add to the experience. Grey’s pleasure rooms look suitably ominous and almost altar-like. There’s also plenty of unintentional comedy in the dialog and a bunch of awkward attempts at legit humor, which is a surreal combo to say the least. Plus the soundtrack, featuring acts like Beyoncé, Annie Lennox and The Weeknd definitely contributes to the mood.
But at the end of the day, the source material derails it. Not even Queen Bey can help salvage the weak narrative and characters as bizarrely written as these, so I’m only recommending this for die-hard fans of the book. Everyone else this weekend will probably have more fun with a certain sponge who lives in a pineapple under the sea instead.
