REVIEW: ‘Fifty Shades Freed’ Is a Dull Ending to the Sexy Saga
Fifty Shades Freed winds up the ridiculous movie trilogy based on E.L. James’s best-selling novels about Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan), a rich sadomasochist, and soul mate Anastasia Steele (Dakota Johnson). Christian, as you probably remember, gradually initiates Anastasia into rituals of sexual pain through sessions conducted in his secret chamber, called the Red Room, which looks like a bordello with shelves of hardware.
Freed, it seems fair to say, is the least interesting of the three films. Like both Fifty Shades of Grey and Fifty Shades Darker, it has no lack of things going on—a wedding (Christian and Anastasia’s), a car chase, a kidnapping, a home invasion, impulsive visits to deluxe vacation homes and Dornan singing “Maybe I’m Amazed” at the piano, which counts as torture—and yet the movie just sits there.
You could say it’s submissive, but to what or whom?One problem is that Freed can’t risk pushing the trilogy’s S&M scenes any further without becoming seriously kinky, subversive or violent: To actually turn anyone on would be tantamount to a turn-off. The aim has always been to indulge in an extreme but harmless form of romantic fantasy. No one’s out to disturb you or make you wonder what makes anyone’s love life tick. It’s basically Phantom Thread as a Lifetime movie.
And besides, how many different sighs, groans, gasps and hiccups of ecstasy can poor Johnson be expected to come up with while being handcuffed, whipped and so forth?
Freed, instead, focuses on whatever happily-ever-after concerns an audience might have about the married domestic life of a master and his wife. For instance, will Christian ever want children? Will he be a good father? Most importantly, what kind of world would this be if Dornan had a dad bod?
Let’s all get out of the Red Room. Jamie and Dakota, you go first—we just want to stay behind a minute and admire all the leather work. We’ll lock up.
Fifty Shades Freed is now in theaters.