Fifty Shades of Grey

by Christie Robb

Let’s face it, Fifty Shades of Grey is probably not going to be nominated for an Oscar. It’s not the movie you watch for its subtle complexities of character development. It’s a chance to watch two hotties take a naughty little ride to bone town and maybe get some inspiration along the way.

Dakota Johnson as Anastasia Steele delivers, giving the role a bubbly charm that provides the occasional (and much needed) comic relief. However, her costar Jamie Dornan leaves something to be desired. As aloof billionaire Christian Grey, Dornan claims people find him heartless. I found him dull. I’ve seen marital aids with more personality.

And the film desperately needs the chemistry between the two. The plot—nerdy English major battling for the heart of a bachelor CEO while being initiated into the ways of light S&M—is as thin as Christian’s silk tie. This is a story about yearning and longing (and spanking). You gotta have passion.

And what’s with the R rating? There’re surprisingly few sex scenes and a lot of naked Dakota Johnson, but no sign of Dornan’s Johnson. When adapting erotic fiction popular with the ladies, you’d think we’d get to see something more titillating than a butt and a pair of low-slung jeans. Maybe I’m spoiled by premium cable.