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50-shades-of-bad-boysThis week I bit the proverbial bullet and went to see 50 Shades of Grey.  I have been very vocal in my seething hatred of the books, and I figured the movie would be just as bad.  Why did I hate the book? Because it was written by someone whose grasp of the English language is that of a high schooler.  It was embarrassing to read.  Not because I was openly reading smut in public, but because the writing was so bad it made me feel dumber.  I got through half the book and threw it across the room as I could not hear our heroine say “oh my” one more fucking time.  That said, a screenwriter got a hold of the script so there was hope.

I attended my screening at the SuperLuxe in Chestnut Hill.  If I’m going to sit in a dark room watching soft core porn, I want Davio’s to cater it.  I took my assigned seat in the back and waited.  The theater slowly filled with maybe 25 people.  There were those, like me, the single women.  We were in the majority.  We were strong in number, we the sad ones.  There was one mother/daughter pairing, which was just plain odd and one real full-fledged couple. That poor bastard.  The lone man.  NO WAIT!  A guy just came in alone.  Clearly there is something very wrong with him.  Women are the only ones allowed to watch this kind of movie solo.  Right?  That sounds sexist but I’m standing by it.

I overhear the waitress talking to the mother/daughter.  It’s clear they know each other.  Waitress is overheard saying “It’s no love story!  He had her hanging from the racks grrrrrlllll!”  I.  Was.  Dying.

The woman next to me was in full recline sending out huge deep exhalations for no apparent reason.  I’m worried about her making it through the rough stuff.

The story is as old as time.  Boy meets girl.  Boy likes girl.  Boy asks girl to sign confidentiality and bondage agreement.  Boy falls for girl.  Girl gets flogged and finds herself.  I mean the whole thing happened to me when I studied abroad.

I’m not going to go into elaborate detail, you know you are going to see it so I’ll let you make your own judgements, but here are my highlights.

-If a man buckles me into a helicopter to go on a date, I’ll absolutely give him a safe word.

-I laughed OUT LOUD a few times during the movie where I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to.  The first was when he opened the door to his play room I was in hysterics.  “like, where do you keep your Playstation?”

-After he took our heroine’s virginity, he played her a concert on his large grand piano.  I got half a Purple Passion and a walk home.

-When there is a scene of two people in a tub acting comfortable I call bullshit.  Someone always ends up with the spout in their back.

-Laugh out loud moment #2: when they are going over the “contract” line by line and she says… “Anal Fisting .. hard limit.”  I was laughing so hard I went into a coughing fit.  I’m sorry, but those two words never need to be said aloud in the same sentence.  EVER.

-The longer I watch, the more I’m convinced he’s total stalker, less Dom to her Sub.  I mean if some dude I was .. whatever you call what they were doing .. showed up in GEORGIA while I was visiting mom, we’d have bigger things to worry about than the above fisting.

She bit her lip 19 times and put things near her mouth at least 6.  This is sexy you see.

There is much to be said about the erotic nature of this movie (21 minutes of sex) and the nature of that sex.  Many women say they loved this book and wanted their husbands to be more like Christian Grey.  I don’t think they do, I don’t think most of the women I know would put up with any of this nonsense.  Most women I know have no desire to be submissive.  And, I’m sorry, when Target comes out with a line of 50 Shades adult products, the whole concept pretty much looses it’s umph.  Did the movie make me tingly in places?  Sure.  Did the shopping spree I did after the movie take care of it?  Yep.

At the end of the movie we are left with a big old cliffhanger.  I’m sure the second movie is going to suck worse than this one because I understand they are letting the actual author do the screenplay.  Either way, I’ll be there, waiting in the dark. To laugh.

 
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