Fifty Shades of Pants

February 17, 2015 at 9:05 pm Leave a comment


Last weekend C and I went to watch Fifty Shades of Grey at a local one screen cinema. The same little cinema where we had previously viewed other notable “classics” such as “Noah”. We should have known….

We had speculated whether the usual gaggle of grey-haired ladies we had seen there on a regular basis, and who we assumed turned up every week to whatever was currently showing, would be there.

They were not. We were both disappointed and relieved at the same time. While neither of us had read the book we assumed that this was not a film that you would like to watch in front of your parents.

Even my brother-in-law, Joel, whose choice of a collective weekend movie viewing was “Filth” would not make that mistake. I do, however, worry that my mother-in-law will be staying with my other brother-in-law in the near future. Smithy, put the remote control down!

Indeed, there were not many people present at the cinema at all. There were maybe ten other couples in total. The men all looked rather sheepish and worked hard at avoiding eye contact. Clearly they were present under duress and only as a result of some large or small Valentine’s Day misdemeanour. I’m just guessing….

The women shared knowing glances, clearly relishing their partners’ discomfort….

And so, the audience settled down, coats carefully placed over laps – it was chilly in the cinema – and endured targeted advertising for Durex Tingle cream, and the like. And then the show began. It was remarkable. It was pants. It was fifty shades of pants.

The show began with Anastasia, the demure girl-next-door virgin, entering the obsessive compulsive lair (he seems to like most words ending in “sive”….) of Christian Grey, Grey House, a location which merges the best and worse of Iron Man’s Stark Towers and an early episode of Mad Men. Anastasia is definitely Peggy Olson to Christian’s Don Draper….a rather mal-nourished and (according to Mark Kermode) hobbit-like Don Draper.


The dialogue is sophisticated. Sophisticated in the same way that the narrative of the Mr Men’s series is sophisticated. Not. You would be forgiven for thinking that the script had been translated into English from Mandarin by an eleven-year old.

imageThe direction, in particular of the supposedly erotic sex scenes, is as arousing as the infamous naked balloon dance which was the second lowest point in the career of Keith Chegwin. The balloon thankfully conceals all of the bits that you don’t want to see.

This is a film devoid of genitalia but rammed with product placements for Audi and Apple products. Clearly, this film’s target audience is the Real Housewives of Cheshire, which further explains the quality and pitch of the dialogue. This is a film for WAGs.

The film climaxes…….

The film concludes when Anastasia, nipples erect and hairy legs bristling with static electricity (which could be a direct quote from the original text, methinks) challenges Christian to do his perverse and sadomasochistic worst. And, in a scene which is the hard-core porn equivalent of Denis Healey’s attack by Geoffrey Howe (“like being savaged by a dead sheep”), Mr Bean hits Anastasia on the bum with a belt….six times! Oooh. Owww. Oh.

No wonder she walked out!

We walked out of the cinema, past the assembling audience of the next showing. They looked slightly bemused by the stifled giggles we struggled to conceal with a lot more difficulty than the non-existent involuntary erections that the men had expected beneath their coats before the film had begun.

The most shocking aspect of the weekend, however, was discovering that my mother has read all three books in the series. Thankfully, my poor dad had given up after just two paragraphs. Apparently. Worse still, my mom revealed how book three ended. Frankly, that’s just spoiled two more movies for me.

Pants. Nice pants….


Entry filed under: humour, middleman, review. Tags: , , , , .

Upward Mobility Spring has not sprung just yet….

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