Jamie Dornan and Dakota Johnson in "Fifty Shades Freed." (Doane Gregory | Photo provided to MLive.com by Universal Pictures)
By John Serba | jserba@mlive.com
Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey have schtupped for the last time. “Fifty Shades Freed” is the third and final act of their turgid, idiotic love story, which began with lots of schtupping in 2015’s “Fifty Shades of Grey,” continued with more schtupping in 2017’s “Fifty Shades Darker,” and concludes with, you guessed it, many more schtups.
The end arrives not a moment too soon, and I don’t say that as someone weary of the franchise’s inept storytelling, threadbare characters and quasi-erotic dalliances – I quite enjoy ridiculing things that are all but begging to be ridiculed, thank you – but rather, as someone who senses the tide going out on the “Fifty Shades” zeitgeist. The phenomenon has lasted six years, from the publication of author E.L. James’ first book to the release of the big-screen adaptation of the third, and we’re officially witnessing the cultural denouement of a trilogy that, if my math is correct, adds up to roughly 150 shades of embarrassment. During this time, humanity has taken a few significant lurches closer to self-destruction, which can be blamed on many things, but to not implicate “Fifty Shades” as one of them just seems naïve.
Dakota Johnson in "Fifty Shades Freed." (Photo provided to MLive.com by Universal Pictures)
The trilogy is essentially the story of Anastasia Steele’s sexual awakening and self-discovery. Actress Dakota Johnson, a talent in most other contexts, attempted to render the character a believable human being instead of a hollow conduit for nouveau-riche sex fantasies, but surely found the material too stultifying and puerile to transcend. Over the course of the movies, Ana went from klutzy, naïve, bookish mouse to strong, assertive woman, and it only took marrying a billionaire and learning to enjoy his S&M boudoir proclivities and letting him purchase the company she works for so she can enjoy a promotion to do it. You know, the story of the average American female.
Ana’s beau, Christian Grey, has been played by Jamie Dornan, who acts in these films as if he’s been dehydrated, starched and pressed. The character is dressed up in Psych-101 personal tragedy: orphan, adopted by rich family, pursued lost-mommy issues through an older woman’s statutory sexual sadomasochism. And yet, he’s a tragic bore, a sullen hunk of muscle existing at the top floor of whatever very tall building he’s in, utterly clueless to the idea that he shouldn’t treat his life partner like a subordinate. Of course, this is an extension of his oh-so-dark secret self, which he unleashes in his “Red Room” full of whips and restraints and tickle-torture tools. It is with some unknown alchemy that these films fail to render Grey even remotely charismatic, in direct defiance of all logic and curiosity.
Jamie Dornan in "Fifty Shades Freed." (Doane Gregory | Photo provided to MLive.com by Universal Pictures)
“Fifty Shades Freed” begins with Christian’s latest step towards domestication: the wedding. The previous film cliff-hanged us with his proposal and Ana’s acceptance. They hop in his private jet – the design of which in any other context wouldn’t necessarily resemble a sex toy, but here we are – to travel around the world for their honeymoon, and schtup in numerous exotic locales. They schtup on yachts and in luxurious hotels and in ancient cities, and even when we don’t see the schtupping – and we do see a lot of it – it’s implied. He puts a charm bracelet on her wrist, and one of the dangling tchotchkes is of the Eiffel Tower, a reminder of the time they schtupped in Paris.
They end up Somewhere in Europe on a topless beach, and Christian urges his new wife to remain bikini-topped lest the paparazzi, who trail upper-crusties like the Greys, snap photos that end up in tabloid rags. Johnson then recites an actual line a human being was paid a lot of money to conceive with the English language and type into a computer using electricity and other valuable resources: “Boobs in Boobland!” she says. Who can blame Ana for wanting to immerse herself in the local culture? I mean, when in Boobland, act like the Boobs, right?
Jamie Dornan and Dakota Johnson in "Fifty Shades Freed." (Doane Gregory | Photo provided to MLive.com by Universal Pictures)
Here begins a plot looser than the contents of an irrigated bowel. Their honeymoon is cut short when Grey Industries, a company that does big, expensive, important things that are so important they’re never specified, is broken into. The culprit is Jack Hyde (Eric Johnson), the non-Jekyll who harassed and assaulted Ana in the previous movie. His motive? He’s insane. No other explanation required. He’s just your standard Movie Villain, who exists because the story needs someone to initiate a dramatic arc.
Jack’s aggressive stalking occasionally interrupts Mr. and Mrs. Grey’s life of conspicuously indulgent posh luxurious affluent opulent privilege. Of course, he works, doing whatever very important things Grey Industries needs him to do, a job that likely has little bearing on financially maintaining his endless supply of personal helicopters and ball-gags, but at least gives him a whole bunch of stuff to control, and therefore make him feel very important. Ana keeps her gig at a publishing company, not because she needs the dough, but because that’s what a humble movie character propped up as a flimsy cardboard cutout of feminist assertion is supposed to do.
Jamie Dornan and Dakota Johnson in "Fifty Shades Freed." (Doane Gregory | Photo provided to MLive.com by Universal Pictures)
When they’re not working, the happily married couple does what newly married couples do. You know what I mean, nudge nudge, wink wink – they have conversations they should’ve had long before the wedding, about having kids and their future together and all that. They presumably haven’t talked about this stuff because they were too busy with the constant rutting and fiddling with beads and plugs and battery-operated buzzing things. We learn her safe word is “RED,” although considering how many times the prominently placed product logo is seen center frame, it should have been “AUDI.”
I’d say “but I digress” at this point, but a key sequence I need to mention is pretty much an advertisement for said brand’s luxury sports cars. Christian surprises Ana by purchasing her an old mansion in the country; she strong-arms a flirtatious lady architect away from her man (one can only hope there was an entire Red Wing in the blueprints); on the way home, Ana drives the AUDI like a Daytona 500 champion as their stalker pursues them in an old truck. Their getaway is so electrifying, they have no choice but to celebrate with a hearty front-seat broad-daylight schtup. I walked away from the scene educated, not about Ana’s newfound confidence, but certain that the AUDI is constructed out of the purrs of a thousand endangered lynxes. Shall we visit the local dealership to look into financing options?
Dakota Johnson and Jamie Dornan in "Fifty Shades Freed." (Photo provided to MLive.com by Universal Pictures)
Anyway, Ana and Christian work out and through and with the multitude of kinks in their marriage. Not content to a life of being told what to do, she begins grinding him down, which I know is a poor choice of words, but I’m going with it anyway. Further boilerplate drama occurs, all of it telegraphed from miles away, miles that could be eaten up so, so quickly if you were driving that AUDI. There’s a scene where Ana gets sick and throws up, which is a common occurrence in bad movies, foreshadowing a twist that I won’t reveal, but you no doubt already deduced a couple paragraphs back, especially considering how often they do the one biological thing that inevitably leads to another biological thing.
As the film progresses with little narrative momentum, Johnson’s characterization is sloppy and vague, as if Ana isn’t taking the plot’s external threats seriously; but she sure seems game for nude scenes, some of which don’t even feature intercourse, just nudity for the sake of nudity for the sake of, hopefully, considerable financial compensation.
Eric Johnson in "Fifty Shades Freed." (Photo provided to MLive.com by Universal Pictures)
And here we are, at the 50th shade, mildly disappointed that "Freed" improves upon its franchise predecessors, wedging itself in a foggy neverwhere between sub-mediocrity and absurdist camp. I rolled my eyes enough that I noticed a missing tile in the auditorium ceiling, quietly inviting me to a warm, dark place to hide. But unlike this series' previous movies, I didn't want to climb in there and die. "Freed" is the best of the trilogy, reaching a height of profoundly relative filmmaking craft to rival that of an earthworm's vertical leap. I stuck it out to its non-scintillating, haphazard, vague, cornball conclusion, then left the theater uttering the only words appropriate for the moment: Get me AUDI here.
FILM REVIEW
‘Fifty Shades Freed’
1.5 stars (out of 4)
MPAA rating: R for strong sexual content, nudity, and language
Cast: Dakota Johnson, Jamie Dornan, Eric Johnson, Eloise Mumford
Director: James Foley
Run time: 105 minutes
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Jamie Dornan and Dakota Johnson in "Fifty Shades Freed." (Doane Gregory | Photo provided to MLive.com by Universal Pictures)
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