So it’s perhaps unfair to knock James Foley’s serviceable, lip-glossed sequel merely for delivering what might have reasonably been expected in the first place: an expensively scented two-hour soapdown, interspersed with some light erotic frisking, all administered very much with the original author’s sticky-fingered touch. Smartly gutting James’s viscous purple prose for something more curt and witty, it was one of the great pleasant surprises in recent studio moviemaking. James, she might have been less disappointed in life - though in her first film outing, 2015’s slinky schlockbuster “Fifty Shades of Grey,” director Sam Taylor-Johnson and screenwriter Kelly Marcel also aspired to a higher standard. Afterward, we lit cigarettes and murmured about what fun we had even though we also agreed that we could never go there again.“I was reading Austen and Brontë and no one ever measured up to that,” says Anastasia Steele of her romantic history near the beginning of “ Fifty Shades Darker.” Had she only been reading E.L. Soon, though, the individual scattered titters and excited murmurings began to shift and to harmonize as skeptics and true believers alike became as one, joined by the display of so much awfulness.
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There’s not much else to say except that the all-media screening of “Fifty Shades Darker” I attended had scarcely begun before it turned into a live edition of the TV show “Mystery Science Theater 3000.” At least some of the few hundred moviegoers seem to have arrived with modest expectations others had seen “Fifty Shades of Grey,” so presumably knew better. The use of Ben and Jerry’s vanilla ice cream, however, made for great product placement. The sex is strained and certainly seems to burn serious calories (Christian flips Anastasia like a pancake), but finally pales next to the commodity fetishism. There are also abrupt swings in tone, dead-end detours and flatline performances, including from Ms.
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He’s a professional with real credits, so I assume that he’s not finally responsible for the ineptitude of “Fifty Shades Darker,” which ranges from continuity issues to unsurprisingly risible writing. Taylor-Johnson are said to have clashed over the making of the first movie, it is easy to guess who the dominant player was in “Fifty Shades Darker,” and it probably wasn’t the new director, James Foley. With low-key charisma, she drew you toward her, so that your attention and hopes fell on her instead of the nonsense surrounding her. It also had a natural star in Dakota Johnson, one of those unforced charmers who can deliver bad lines so gracefully that, after a while, you don’t much care about their quality. For all its flaws, “Fifty Shades of Grey” had a competent director, Sam Taylor-Johnson, who mostly wrung a watchable movie out of the material, partly by letting lightness and laughter in. Well, not quite, though it’s always instructive to watch how many different ways one movie can go wrong and to guess what happened between a first feature and a second.
The result is a clutch of best sellers, a hit movie (based on the first book, “Fifty Shades of Grey”) and now a sequel, “Fifty Shades Darker,” that’s almost bad enough to recommend. But it apparently took a writer as terrible as E L James, the author of the “Fifty Shades” series, to really hit the commercial sweet spot. The likes of Madonna and the photographer Helmut Newton had primed that pump long ago, turning dominance, submission and toys into an acceptable spectacle. The big tee-hee about the “Fifty Shades of Grey” phenomenon is that it’s brought ostensibly scandalous heterosexual sex - with its whips and restraints - out of the shadows and into the mainstream.
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