Oh, Mr Christian Grey, you have begun to bore me. I can handle almost anything at the movies, except being bored.
Fortunately, I was with someone who loves the books and the films. Enthusiasm is contagious and I know these books are very successful. Mamma Porn. Who knew that was a thing? E. L. James found a niche and has sold 70 million copies of this three-part saga.
Just in case you’ve been hiding under a rock for many years, E. L. James wrote books about millionaire Christian Grey, who has a taste for kinky sex and youthful Anastasia Steele, who he teaches about BDSM-lite.
I did suffer from lingerie envy. There is some gorgeous underwear on display, here. And the clothes are lovely.
Frankly, the sex is of the vanilla and dull variety. You see a lot of Dakota Johnson’s breasts but very little of her nether regions nor, indeed, of Jamie Dornan’s – erm – bits.
It’s all a bit phoned in. You find yourself wondering what has happened to Kim Basinger’s face? Why is Ana’s boss so strange? Why are Christian’s ex-girlfriends so keen on him when he is boring in bed?
I will never get this series. But lovely homes, offices, clothes and lingerie all perk up my attention span.
And being with someone who gets it and likes it – in a Stratford East Picturehouse full of fans – makes me think I will probably see the next film, in the hope of something interesting and/or sexy happening.
Stay through the first part of the credits. There is a teaser trailer for the next film.
That may be the most teasing you will get, in this series.
The success of this franchise relies on a lot of women having a lot of lousy sexual encounters. Oh dear. How sad.