Who needs chemistry, anyway?

Dakota Johnson and Jamie Dornan in a scene from "Fifty Shades of Grey." © 2015 Universal Studios and Focus Features.

One of my goals for the 2015 is to be a little kinder to some of the films I review. I already broke that promise to myself in the “The Boy Next Door” writeup, so I'm going to try again before the impending “Fifty Shades of Grey” destruction by saying Dakota Johnson does a very nice job as Anastasia Steele. She's chipper, perky and has a sense of humor in an otherwise dour movie, and she'd receive one of the “Good Job!” stickers I keep on my desk. Well done, Dakota!

Now that the lone positive is out of the way, let's dive right into the interminable pool of swamp muck that is “Fifty Shades of Grey.” It's a rather unsubtle film that takes itself far, far, far, far, far too seriously given the source material is a book based on “Twilight” fan fiction (author E.L. James wrote it under the pseudonym Snowqueens Icedragon; I have nothing to add to that) featuring the apparently unspeakable sexual activity known as BDSM. More on that in a bit though.

For people like me who found themselves impervious to Snowqueens Icedragon's siren call, “Fifty Shades of Grey's” stars the unexceptionally pretty Jamie Dornan as Christian Grey, a 27-year-old billionaire entrepreneur who sets his eyes on senior college student Anastasia Steele (Johnson). They flirt stiffly and disturbingly (Grey, like character inspirer Edward Cullen, has a habit of following his beloved around), dithering on and on about their respect feelings for each other. Dornan keeps acting creepy and stalker-ish, telling Johnson “I have to let you go,” and “You're here because I'm incapable of leaving you alone,” amid tidbits about how she wouldn't be able to walk for a week after they had sex.

It takes forever to get to the first direct mention of Dornan's proclivity for BDSM, and he spends a good chunk of the film convincing Johnson to sign an agreement to become his submissive. The contract is pretty detailed and covers everything from safety words to the tools used in the playroom (Dornan's term for his room). The dithering continues when Johnson can't quite commit herself to the arrangement before Dornan guides her into a few sessions, and they spend the rest of the film dating, brooding, engaging in sexual acts and getting into rather boring shenanigans that leaves the audience unsatisfied in many ways.

A few other characters pop in and out of the film — parents, friends, step parents, well wishers, a driver — but none of them matter when compared to the central couple, and any value derived from “Fifty Shades of Grey” depends on the lead’s connection. Unfortunately, the proverbial chemistry between Johnson — who, again, is quite good in a ridiculously thankless role — and the sack of handsome that is Dornan doesn't exist. Passionless is a kind way of describing their relationship; even the scenes when the two are wooing each other provides no reason hint of any emotional or sexual attraction. 

I'm not sure if the fault for that lack of desire rests on the actors' shoulders — they don't appear to like each other all that much in real life — or from some combination of James' original content and the adaptation by screenwriter Kelly Marcel (who wrote the mawkish “Saving Mr. Banks”). Logically it's going to be a blend of both, although it's worth pointing out how wildly the characters' moods, motivations and actions oscillate and how dire much of the dialogue is. I wish I could reprint the apex of awful dialogue, but it involves the film's title and a bit of profanity capped by a ludicrous line reading by Dornan. 

Not quite this ridiculous, but the same ballpark.

Underlying the problems contained within “Fifty Shades of Grey” two hours of stupid awfulness is the treatment of BDSM. This might fall back on James again (although Marcel and director Sam Taylor-Johnson double down on it), but the material treats the sexual activity as a shameful act too scary to talk about. That treatment of it might apply if this were, say, 1992 instead of 2015, where all it takes is a quick Google search to read about it without getting into the graphic nitty gritty. In other words, it's not that big of a deal, and a pretty minor sexual quirk in comparison to all the other crazy things on the Internet.

“Fifty Shades of Grey” though treats it like a grand societal taboo, even though way the BDSM acts are portrayed in the film are more akin to the work of Bettie Page than anything with a real bite to it. The filmmakers seem to titter about the concept as if they were 5 year olds hearing the word “butt” for the first time; it's kind of cute, but it really takes any sense of danger out of it.

Review : One and a half out of Five Stars

Click here to see the trailer.

Rating: R

Run time: 125 minutes

Genre: Drama

Ask Away

Target audience: Moms.

Take the whole family?: Yeah … no.

Theater or Netflix?: It’s not good enough to justify a theater trip, plus the people who want to watch it are better off doing so at home alongside a glass of wine.

A slow of a film is this? Holy hell is this film a slog, a really, really, really painfully long viewing process undone by seriousness and the constant waiting for something, anything of interest to happen. I felt like Milhouse when he watched the first Poochie episode, constantly wondering when the heck they're going to get to the dang fireworks factory.

Watch this instead? I could list a whole series of romantic films, from screwball comedies like “The Awful Truth” to children's fantasy films like “The Princess Bride,” that would induce more romantic feelings than this. But I know the appeal of “Fifty Shades of Grey” is its steaminess, so instead of dropping $10 on a theater trip, download the music video for Chris Isaak's “Wicked Game” – it sets the mood better in four minutes than “Fifty Shades” does in two hours.