FIFTY SHADES OF GREY Review

FIFTY SHADES OF GREY Review by Josef Rodriguez.

By the time that Anastasia Steele (Dakota Johnson), a virginal object of obsession for mysterious billionaire and BDSM-enthusiast Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan), pratfalls into a beautiful Seattle office about 5 minutes into Sam Taylor-Johnson’s Fifty Shades of Grey, a realization sets in: you are watching a film adapted from a fan fiction. And not just any fan fiction, but a really bad piece of cheap erotica based on Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Saga by part-time author and full-time idiot E.L. James.

Fans of the series were enticed by its “daring” and “edgy” explorations into the supposed underworld of BDSM. During commutes, lunches, and bathroom breaks, working class Americans from all walks of life, ones who had been raised to believe that BDSM was an abusive method of pleasure, had their fears confirmed by James’ inane storytelling and unbearable prose, which portrayed the relationship between Christian and Ana as not only unhealthy, but dangerous.

Now, three years later, the first book in James’ series has made its way to the big screen, and a lot of people couldn’t be happier. Helmed by Nowhere Boy director Taylor-Johnson, Fifty Shades of Grey tells of the relationship between lowly Lit major Ana Steele and her exciting relationship with Christian Grey, a man who fancies himself something of an enthusiast. In his “playroom,” Mr. Grey whips, chains, ties, gags, and plugs the women he desires (with their consent, of course), enlightening them to discover their inner submissive. However, as their relationship grows, so does their affection, and both Christian and Ana find themselves accidentally falling in love with one another.

If there’s one film this year that’s bound to get picked on more than any other, it is arguably Fifty Shades of Grey. The source material is absolutely ridiculous, and the idea that a credible film could somehow be adapted from a fan fiction is a thought almost too ludicrous to process. However, under Taylor-Johnson’s steady hands, Fifty Shades of Grey is better than almost anyone could have expected, even if it still isn’t great. Shot beautifully by DP Seamus McGarvey, and scored by Danny Elfman in what is sure to be one of the year’s best soundtracks, Taylor-Johnson makes sure to at least cover all of her technical bases first.

However, the film runs into some trouble by being, no pun intended, hopelessly bound to its source material like a small child clutching her favorite stuffed animal. James was reportedly on set constantly, always making adjustments to the script, portrayals of certain characters, and the overall direction of the film, quite nearly forcing Taylor-Johnson and the studios to adhere too closely to the book. As a result, there’s often a tonal inconsistency that threatens to derail the seriously good work being done by Taylor-Johnson and her actors. Delivering, with earnestness, dialogue that’s ripped directly from the book, Fifty Shades often feels like an operatic homage to both the best and worst soap operas on television.

The performances are, from the film’s two main actors, a barrel of fun to watch. Johnson and Dornan have an off-kilter chemistry that some will surely write off as non-existent, but is instead unorthodox and concealed, much like their characters. At certain points, the uneasiness between the characters is jarring, but seemingly intentional, especially when the film takes a more passionate turn in the third act. Johnson, in particular, is something of a revelation as Ana Steele. She, like everyone else, does her absolute best with the material she’s been given, but her Ana is possibly the only character in the film that seems to live in and breathe the air provided by planet Earth.

As the titular star, Jamie Dornan, while not the ideal Christian Grey, does an admirable job as Ana’s aggressive lover. Taylor-Johnson successfully repurposes and recontextualizes a lot of the creepiness and, to put it lightly, interpersonal inappropriateness present throughout much of the book, and Dornan does a fine job at holding back at the perfect moment so as to not let Christian become the unbearably weird serial killer that he could easily be. Perhaps the greatest compliment I could give the film is that, instead of worrying for Ana’s safety the entire time, I was able to relax and enjoy her journey of exploration and, ultimately, her eventual empowerment.

Unfortunately, the film goes a little wonky in its final twenty minutes. Capped off by a final scene worthy of an “Executive Producer: Vince Gilligan” credit, a number of sequences, including the infamous “punishment” sequence, come off as obligatory resolution as a result of, time and time again, James’ awful book. It’s obvious that she has no understanding of BDSM, its purposes, and its practices, but Taylor-Johnson and an on-set BDSM expert did their best to portray it in the best light possible. They do, for the most part, until the narrative arc forces them to do otherwise, and it just kind of unwinds the whole experience into something that it isn’t.

This is even more unfortunate when considering how many things Fifty Shades of Grey wants to be but isn’t. It wants to be an examination of communication in high society. It wants to be an honest exploration of BDSM. It wants to be a full, fleshed out narrative of female empowerment. But the necessity to adhere closely to James’ source material doesn’t leave any wiggle room for these themes to come through as completely as they should. And, with reports that Taylor-Johnson won’t be returning for the sequels, it looks like the rest of the series won’t fare so well, either. But it’s still a better love story than Twilight.

FIFTY SHADES OF GREY is now playing in theaters nationwide.