You guys. Fifty Shades Darker is not, I repeat, is not a spin-off of Grey’s Anatomy. There’s no McSteamy or McDreamy. Just McBroodey and McBadWriting.
I know Grey’s Anatomy had that spin-off before. With the red headed doctor. And I think Tim Daly. And Taye Diggs maybe? Damn, he’s a fucking good looking mother fucker. …Private Practice, that’s the one! Right. Anyways, this gag is meandering and worthless.
Which is perfectly fitting because so is fucking Fifty Shades Darker. It is 131 minutes — that is one hundred and thirty one mother fucking minutes — of meandering clap-trap. It’s bad acting, bad writing, bad sex scenes, just bad bad bad.
It’s also complete bullshit. It’s a bullshit character study, a bullshit love story, a bullshit piece of erotica, just total and complete bullshit. I made the mistake of watching the unrated version, hoping there was at last be something salacious but, nope, just an extra fifteen minutes of bullshit. Over two fucking hours of bullshit. The only moment of the 130-whatever minutes that I was entertained was when we saw this pale girl skulking in the shadows and I was hopeful that she was a vampire who would slaughter everyone. Spoiler alert: she wasn’t.
If you’re wondering why I’m not telling you about the plot, about what goes on in this chapter of the love story between Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele (these fucking names, man!) … it’s because I don’t give a fuck, you don’t give a fuck, the people making the film didn’t give a fuck. Nobody cares.
Here, here’s some dialogue for you.
Christian: “I’m the boyfriend.”
Random Creepy Boss Guy: “I’m the boss.”
Anastasia: “No you’re not putting those in my butt.”
Christian: “They don’t go in your butt”
Christian: “I hope you’re not a sore loser.”
Anastasia: “Well that depends on how hard you spank me.”
I assume these lines of dialogue came right out of the book because everything I’ve heard about these books is that the writing if fucking atrocious. Eat a bag of balls, EL James.
Meanwhile, the big reveal of the film is that Christian isn’t actually a dom, he’s a sadist and he likes hurting girls who remind him of his mom. Because it turns out, according to this film, that BDSM isn’t a healthy form of sexual activity. Rather, it’s just predilections based upon people being damaged. Christian’s mom died when he was young — oh, another gem of dialogue: “My birth mother died when I was four. She was an addict. Crack.” — and then he was abused and he was expelled from four high schools for “brawling” and then an older lady seduced and abused him. Put aside the fact that this older lady is played by Kim Basinger, who is free to seduce me anytime she likes … putting that aside, fuck all this noise. As a journalist who has written about sex for 4 decades so succinctly puts it:
But all available evidence shows that the vast majority of BDSM enthusiasts are mentally healthy and typical in every respect—except that they find conventional (“vanilla”) sex unfulfilling and want something more intense and intimate.
But this movie would have you think that you have to be a brooding, damaged, broken asshole to be into some kink.
Fuck this movie, fuck EL James, and fuck the people who put $114 million domestic into the studio’s coffers. Fuck them all long and hard. #noSafeWords.
I don’t remember what bet I lost that caused me to suffer this. Funny enough, I was just talking to the winner of this bet today and asked him and he couldn’t remember either. So this one is dedicated to the bets not worth remembering.