Fifty Shades of Dismay!

Hello one and all, 

So last week was Valentines day and suffice to say that the loving nature of things came to a crashing blow mid-week. One reason being an altercation with a colleague but another was my absolute dismay at how shockingly poor the hotly anticipated blockbuster 'Fifty Shades of Grey' was. 

In 2012, admits a gut-wrenchingly messy break-up with Mr. Workaholic I took complete solace in reading the trilogy of books by E. L James; 'Fifty Shades of Grey', 'Fifty Shades Darker' and 'Fifty Shades Freed'. It seems like so long ago I struggle to remember what it was like reading them, although I know already a part of me is hesitant to return to such a dark place in my past. Those books shaped my being, gave me structure and when everything else failed helped me realise that there was life after heart-break. I soon rekindled a somewhat telephonic and long-distance relationship with Mr. Woof, (to which he has now earned his name) and in a round about way, gave me back some power and control I had since lost. Written as part of an original Twilight fan fiction I soon completely immersed myself in the world of Mr. Christian Grey and Miss Anastasia Steele. When I wasn't found drinking away my sorrows with friends of a weekend back home in Dunstable and Luton, or at sneaking out of work on a break to call Mr. Woof just to get him off, I would be found with my head in those books; escaping in any way I could from my own reality. 

I suppose in a way the concept of BDSM had always been in the back of my mind, a taboo idea reserved only for a trusting relationship of which I found myself without. But I always liked the thought of being in control and in charge. I tried it once. Once! Cast your minds back everyone to my post entitled "A Midsummer Night's Disaster!" in which I truly thought that this would be a good time to implement my inner dominatrix. Suffice to say that attempting kinky sex with a drunk man whom you do not know the name of and have brought home for the night is not a good idea at all. I think we all know the ending to that story so I shall not relive it again. Looking back now it was a step too far and one which was taken in hast with the prospect of getting over my first and possibly only true love. Needless to say that I should have been happy with the No Strings Attached heated phone-calls I received in the dead of the night from Mr. Woof. Some of them were when he was stoned. Some of them were when he was drunk. Some of them were even when he was at work himself. When I talk about it like that it seems as though he was using me to the highest of advantages; abusing the trust and vulnerability of an old friend. But I was as much to blame in that as Mr. Woof was. I wanted and needed attention. I was lacking it both in my job as well as friends and family who lived far from my door. I needed a little something I could dip into as and when I wanted. My honey pot of self-discovery and self-obsession. A confidence boost that extended far further than sexual gratification. Ahh yes, it was "A Dogs Life" after all. 

As for the film though I was disappointed to say the least. With the media hyping it up as they usually do with these things I tried to take it all with a pinch of salt and with a level head told myself I would judge when I had seen it not through another persons version of events and retelling. Once seated in the cinema with our sneaky snacks from outside the establishment brought in we awaited the film in high anticipation along with other eager viewers, most of them women and over the age of thirty-three. 

Rolling titles beginning it started as I had hoped and expected. the long drawn out scenes were everything that I hoped Hollywood would create. But obviously anyone whose anyone read the book in their own special way, imagining how Christian would look and what he would sound like as well as the timid Ana. I always thought of Anastasia being a brunette, yes, with an unfamiliar and uninteresting face, something you could so easily miss in the corridor to your office or in the halls at college. I never imagined her attitude being so open to such shocking and horrific mistreatment in the bedroom. Always thinking of her as a mouse and Grey as a calculated lion ready to pounce at any moment. Speaking of which, in my minds eye I saw my Christian as taller, broader, more chiselled and strangely more tanned. He had stubble for me and was more of a darker grey-eyed than anything else. 

Cinematically the colours were completely off. Far too much grey. We got the picture. Its 'Fifty Shades of Grey', we weren't expecting a bright technicolour rainbow on our screens, but neither did we expect to be sitting here wondering if this is what the world is like to dogs. Grey. Scenery was on point, not perfect but OK. Christians Apartment was what I expected from my head, as was Anastasia's flat-share with BFF Kate. Audibly I don't think they come better than Danny Elfman. The mastermind behind the music for TV Show 'The Simpsons', The award winning 'Silver Linings Playbook' starring Jennifer Lawrence and Bradley Cooper and my personal favourite of creating the brilliant theme song for 'Desperate Housewives' (God Rest In Television Peace - You are sorely missed!). 

Ahh yes, and so my film critic has come to a close. I would in all fairness urge you to go. Unless your a raging feminist and then of which probably don't go; You'll be scowling at the screen like Miss Tweedle-Dee wondering if consent was ever given or not and whether this all constitutes as rape. But that my friends is another story. All in all it wasn't the worst film. Very, very rushed, poorly made, shoddily thrown together with little nudity or sexual engagement or enlightenment yes. But not a whole waste of time. For as I left that cinema seat, another little part of my heart healed from where my first love had broken it. And all for seeing a crumby movie about bondage. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx