Sex

[Review] Fifty Shades of Grey

I knew very little about Fifty Shades Of Grey going into the movie, other than it being about BDSM and that the book's prose was the subject of widespread derision. The latter point always seemed an odd one to me: reading erotica for the prose sounds a bit like watching porn for the art direction. It exemplifies an attitude of snobbishness which continues to permeate criticism of the arts in all media. By most accounts, plenty of women found the book an entirely pleasurable experience. It must have been doing something right.

As you've probably worked out by now, that kind of introduction is only heading in one direction, so I'll just out and say it: look past the upturned noses and Fifty Shades Of Grey is not only a perfectly decent movie, but wittier and more subversive than many would have anticipated.

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Fifty Shades Of Grey
Director: Sam Taylor-Johnson
Rating: R
Release Date: February 14, 2015

Were you expecting a bodice-ripping, dick-swinging, ass-pounding, ball-squeezing, face-sitting, vaginal-fisting extravangza, Fifty Shades is not it.  The fact the movie made it to cinemas should have told you that much, and besides, in the event of disappointment, there's always YouPorn. Though there's a cursory amount of whipping, some tied hands and quite a bit of moaning, director Sam Taylor-Johnson consciously shifts away from anything resembling exploitation. It is best described as a sex-themed character drama, more concerned with subverting screen representations of male and female sexuality, when they exist at all, than utilising them for blunt titillation. There's a reasonable amount of sex, but artfully shot and with one eye clearly aimed at meeting the requirements of the R rating. Only Anastasia shows anything provocative, though given how close a few of cuts are to Christian's crotch, the feeling pervades that this is more the result of institutional sexism at the certification boards rather than willing self-censorship.

Even so, the flashes of pubic hair from both lead characters feels satisfyingly liberated compared to the sterility afflicting your average blockbuster. The imbalance in what the movie is allowed to show does have the side-effect of slightly shifting the movie's gaze towards Anastasia rather than Christian, where it should be, but this is nevertheless the rare movie which emphasizes female pleasure first and foremost. True, it's mostly through bitten lips and sensual gasps, but remains a heck of a lot better than anything else Hollywood has provided in recent decades. Fears about Anastasia's position as the submissive in the relationship are also ill-founded: consent is not only a key concern for Christian, but to such an extent that it almost circles around to satirising the challenges of tackling that topic in real-life. Ana's distaste for the consent contract which Christian is desperate for her to sign can't help but nudge, if accidentally, towards the inherent hypocrises of 'yes means yes' laws.

The fact Fifty Shades is the rare Hollywood movie where the entire creative team is female makes its even-handed treatment of gender and sexual expectations all the more poignant. This is a movie where a woman inhibited by her sexual shame meets a man imprisoned by his and through pushing the limits of their sexual and emotional horizons, begin unearthing each other's buried humanity. Dakota Johnson is a revelation as the meek but quietly intelligent Ana, bringing considerable pathos and underlying strength to the role as the character gradually learns to assert herself in bringing her relationship with Christian onto her terms even while acting as his submissive. The movie may offer the tamest possible representation of BDSM, but understands the seemingly contradictory principles at its core (pleasure through pain, liberation through abandonment of control) and neatly weaves them into its character arcs. It may not be particularly subtle, but it works.

As Christian, Jamie Dornan struggles to make much of an impact beyond, to judge by the panting admiration of the girls sitting behind me, the not inconsiderable appeal of his toned body. Christian is tormented by his obsession with control and how Ana challenges his refusal to engage with women on anything other than the terms of a contractually defined relationship. Dornan is a little too baby-faced and young to authentically sell the character's depth of sadness and anger, leading to his brooding seeming a little too practiced and pouting to make his inner turmoil completely believable. Were the movie more geared towards the mostly implied eroticism, his aesthetic appeal would be more than enough. With emphasis instead placed on the character drama, his struggles make Christian more frustrating than enigmatic and restrain - and not in the fun way - his chemistry with Dakota Johnson.

Also frustrating is the movie's status as the first entry in a planned trilogy. After a lively opening, the pace drags considerably during the middle act with a few too many repeated 'why don't you let me in' conversations and family drama which emphasizes Ana's homespun nature but gets mighty tedious while doing so. The cliffhanger that concludes the movie, while an important moment for Ana, feels like it should have arrived at roughly the halfway or three-quarter point rather than being spun out into an entirely unsatisfactory ending (reaction of the girls behind me: "What? Is that it?"). It's even more of a shame because the movie cuts off just as both characters seem on the verge of a breakthrough without having quite crossed the threshold. A dinner-slash-business meeting between Ana and Christian, wonderfully lit in lurid orange, marks the beginning of the final act and is a noteworthy highlight for finding the perfect balance between tension, humour and engaging character work.

That the movie never quite finds that level of cohension again is a shame, because its individual elements are played with unexpected consideration and, occasionally, tenderness. It's easy to see why the story has connected so strongly with such a large audience, bringing together as it does the essential clichés of arguably the two most widely beloved female-appealing stories - Cinderella's prince and the ingenue dynamic, plus Pride & Prejudice's reserved, Byronic love interest - and twisting them into something at once dark but modern, open-minded and gently empowering. Sure, you can criticise the unmemorable dialogue (sadly, only one 'holy cow!' and not a single 'oh jeez!'), the repetition of several narrative beats, cheesy use of soundtrack and a meandering middle act, but submit yourself without inhibitions and you may be surprised how much you enjoy the experience.

by Xander Markham