Fifty Shades of Grey – review
Our new Junior Editor, Dom (no pun intended), shares his thoughts on the most eagerly anticipated film of the year . . .
It seems like only yesterday that Fifty Shades of Grey was taking the world by storm, the trilogy by E.L. James responsible for bringing BDSM to the masses and making it socially acceptable to read erotica on public transport. That the film adaptation would be a sure-fire hit is a given, but would it satisfy the millions of fans worldwide who have their own ideas about Christian and Ana?
Thankfully, yes. Both director Sam Taylor-Johnson and star Dakota Johnson achieve the impossible – they’ve turned Ana into a real person, with a convincing interior life (no inner goddess in sight!) and a sassy streak. In a star-making turn, Johnson shows Ana to be more than just Christian’s plaything, and suggests that he isn’t the only dominant in this relationship . . .
Ah Christian. How could any actor measure up to fans’ expectations of the hottest romantic hero in recent memory? Unsurprisingly, Jamie Dornan is perfectly cast as Mr. Grey – he’s both strong and vulnerable and, obviously, outrageously good-looking. With a performance that recalls his sexy serial killer (an underused epithet) in The Fall, unfortunately sans accent and beard, Dornan fleshes out Christian and gives texture to the handsome billionaire with an interesting playroom.
The reason Fifty Shades works so well on film is that it remains faithful to the essence of the books but heightens the intensity of the main relationship (though the sex scenes could do with less sultry glances and more naked Dornan, at least according to the gals sitting behind me!), while at the same time softening the rough edges in James’s writing and allowing her characters to breathe.
Yes, there are some silly moments involving helicopter montages straight out of The Apprentice, monogrammed stationery and hilariously inappropriate use of Beyoncé’s ‘Crazy in Love’, but overall I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun in a cinema.
My inner goddess breathily anticipates the next installment . . .
