REVIEW: Fifty Shades of Grey

13 02 2015

“Fifty Shades of Grey” boasts a killer soundtrack of catchy pop tunes from some top artists – Beyoncé, Ellie Goulding, Sia – to spruce up what might otherwise be boring, forgettable montages.  But while I watched the dominant sadomasochist Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan) attempt to lure the innocent, virginal Anastasia Steele (Dakota Johnson) into a contract as his submissive, another song kept playing in my head.

Here’s an excerpt from that song, “Never Learn Not To Love” by The Beach Boys.

“Cease to resist, come on say you love me
Give up your world, come on and be with me
I’m your kind, I’m your kind, and I see

Submission is a gift given to another
Love and understanding is for one another
I’m your kind, I’m your kind, and I see”

The surfing rock group makes those lyrics sound pleasant, even romantic.  But they become rather frightening when considering who they essentially plagiarized the song from: Charles Manson.

There’s something decidedly demented (or, dare I say, “Haunted” like the Beyoncé track from the film) about Grey’s psychology.  He pulls heavily from pimp logic, the same rationale Manson used to lure and maintain his followers.  Grey obsesses over making Anastasia sign a contract that allows him free license, within mutually agreeable bounds, to exploit her endlessly for the purposes of whetting his niche sexual appetites.  He gets pleasure, while she gets an odd mixture of fear and love.  (Seems like a rather uneven balance of power, but I’m single – so what do I know?)

Getting her John Hancock serves as the conflict and obstacle that keeps the thin plot of “Fifty Shades of Grey” going, although there is a compelling case that the one-upmanship of the successive sex scenes is what really keeps the interest in an otherwise standard-issue “romance.”  Those just watching for skin should not even bother tuning in until the 45 minute mark, when the conventional courtship tale switches gears into the kind of soft-core porn film that plays around midnight on HBO.

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Random Factoid #574

11 02 2015

50I’m trying to kill some time before a 7:30 P.M. press screening of “Fifty Shades of Grey” tonight (currently posted up with my laptop in Whole Foods), so I thought maybe a factoid was in order.

Yes, I am about to watch the cultural hot potato itself.  No, I didn’t pack an extra pair of underwear, pregame, bring toys, etc.  I’m simply curious to see what all the fuss is about.  When something like this comes along and gains such traction among the masses, it has to be hitting some kind of nerve.

Thanks to landing on a press list in North Carolina, I am now about to catch a free advanced screening.  That’s the ideal way to watch “Fifty Shades of Grey,” I assume – with no payment required.  But, due to the “anticipation” of the film, I was not allowed to bring a guest.  (The only other times I’ve had to roll solo to an event like this was when the screening was strictly held for critics’ eyes only.)

So, I am seeing “Fifty Shades of Grey” alone.  I won’t be able to live snark or make sassy comments to a friend.  Instead, I’ll just feel smutty knowing that I am living out a glorified version of what perverts did in the ’70s when they wanted to watch titillating pornography.  The only upside is that I am an hour away from anyone who would recognize me seeing this movie.

Oh, well – can’t win ’em all!


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