I have absolutely nothing to do on Valentines Day and I visit the cinema alone most weekends so it was altogether expected that I joined the whooping mobs of maidens and madams that were among the first to see the brooding Christian slap Ana’s pert bottom in Fifty Shades of Grey.
I read the books sometime ago, years before I started reading les romans bleus on my devices, escaping into a world of romance during the endless hours I spend on, or waiting for, aircraft. The iPad is of course an entirely unnecessary electronic veil given my cheeks flush and my breathing quickens during even remotely romantic passages. Hot flushes were an improvement on the seething rage that filled me as I realised just how poorly the books were written. It was utter crap, but crap so compelling that 100 million women read it; half of the population, young, medium and old, is consumed with Christian Grey and his penchant for punishment.
You’ve probably read the reviews; you’ve seen the one star sniggles and the jibes about Audi paying for most it. I’m not sure how else they could have afforded the expensive aerial footage of the most boring place on Earth, Seattle. #ivebeenthere If Sam Taylor-Johnson can make Seattle sexy, and the whole film is really very beautiful to look at, she should next get a job as Miliband’s publicist.
If you want to see an erotic movie about BDSM, watch Secretary. James Spader^ and Maggie Gyllenhaal are completely captivating in a movie about a vulnerable woman submitting to a dominant man…and the sex scenes are twelfty mazillion times sexier than anything I saw yesterday and it’s a far more realistic love story. I remember watching it for the first time in Motherbear’s living room with a then very alive, now much missed, Gramma. Mum explaining to Gramma why James was spanking Maggie when she didn’t staple his reports correctly was a particular high point that evening. Secretary is 100% full fat with extra cream to Christian and Ana’s less compelling aspartame kale smoothie.
Which is why I was so surprised by the pearl-clutching ‘this is glamorising domestic violence’ reaction to the film. If this is promoting anything other than Audi, Apple or the Pacific Northwest, it was completely lost on me. Product placement being very much a part of any franchise film, the thing ran more like a two hour commercial for fast cars than any kind of surreptitious message encouraging us girls to give up our marital or statutory rights.
The story of Christian and Ana, much like Cinderella (who featured heavily in the pre-film trailers) or Princess Vivian or pretty much anything with Jennifer Aniston is a fairytale. It is a little bit if escapist trifle, like a bright shining red cherry on top of a working week of sour grapes and humble pie. The reason 100 million of us bought into this shite is because the idea of doing something a little bit naughty while being genuinely loved and cared for and treasured is more than most of us will ever get even close to. The thread that ties the whole slap and tickle together is a love story, not a conventional one, but then the best ones never are. #heathcliff #mrsrobinson #emmabovary
What I find most disturbing is the hysterical reaction to this film versus any reaction to the hours of violence we are subjected to every other weekend.
The Fast & Furious franchise is about to hit number seven. Movies that glamorise driving very fast, movies starring a man who died not long ago while driving too fast; who is protesting at the premiere screenings of these movies? The scientological action films where everyone shoots but no one dies? Or everything Quentin Tarantino ever breathed on? How about the sludge of ultra-violent horror that has been smeared onto our collective retina for the past 2 decades normalising torture and cruelty? Why aren’t the naysayers standing in front of the cinemas this weekend protesting against the ethical treatment of our ovine brethren at the Shaun The Sheep premiere? Not to mention the daily assault experienced by the clay?
Speaking of toy movies, this is one of those instances when I feel like Woody shouting in complete exasperation at the very ignorant Buzz, ‘YOU’RE A TOY!’* Sometimes we need to be reminded of what is real and what is not, or at least apply the same rules all the time. We cannot be outraged when freedom of speech in the press is murdered because of a cartoon and then slap censorship on light entertainment.
Calm yourselves Matron, this movie is first and foremost a movie; it is not a public service announcement or a depiction of anyone’s real life. Just like Cinderella and her unfortunate choice of footwear, it is a fairytale. If domestic violence is an increasingly horrid stain on our society, it is not because of this Christian but more likely because of the Christians, the ones who encourage women to love, honour and obey and forget to tell them about using condoms or clitoral stimulation to achieve orgasm. How about we accuse the dickheads running the show in most of our western democracies, or capitalist economies. The myriad leaders who commit adultery, the shining role models of modern thought who regularly engage sex workers or the fact that the never-ending stream of blood-soaked melodrama we see on the news is making ultra-violence as commonplace as advertising.
If we can no longer muster our sense of humour about a movie then the fun police truly have taken over. Fortunate then that I live in Britain.
On Friday, celebrating the release of Fifty Shades of Grey, the hashtag #britishsexpositions was trending number one worldwide by lunchtime #slowdayatwork. Seemingly bored of the glut of promotion for the film, you literally cannot turn a corner in London without Jamie Dornan’s perfect face inviting you to bend over his knee, the Brits fought back with the best weapon any of us have at our disposal, humour.
Borrowing phrases that are common in the UK and imagining them as the names of sex positions lead to a stream of tweets, and a subsequent stream of laughter as everyone in the office turned from their conference calls to their twitter feed. It started with ‘Mind the Gap’ and ‘Toad in the Hole’ and quickly progressed to ‘Unexpected item in the Bagging Area’.
It was Fifty Shades of Hilarious...just like the movie.
^Who could read the my tax return with more sex appeal than Jamie Dornan has in his left kidney
*After writing that, I realised it reads like a conversation between two vibrators #mindinthegutter