Dakota Johnson and Jamie Dornan in 'Fifty Shades of Grey'
In order to write this, I went to my local Cineplex and watched badly done soft-core porn that meandered on for 125 minutes. But this was not your usual soft-core porn, which one might see late at night on Cinemax. This was material that's sold
over 100 million copies in book form and has a large contingent of fans. There are two big issues that seem to have dominated the release of the film adaptation of E.L. James's
Fifty Shades of Grey. The first is whether it was possible the movie is any good. But the other is more complicated, and wonders whether the fantasy the story presents is abuse masquerading as romance with unfortunate societal implications.
Instead of writing nine or ten paragraphs going through every single thing wrong with this movie, let's get the former question out of the way quickly. Fifty Shades of Grey doesn't work as either a psychological drama, Harlequin romance or an erotic property. There's no chemistry between Johnson and Dornan (who're rumored not to like each other off-camera) and no real narrative reason to give a damn about their character's relationship. The film's major draw is the titillation of its BDSM-flavored romance. But director Sam Taylor-Johnson, who reportedly clashed with James during the production, cut out a lot of the "mommy porn" kink elements and attempted to give Johnson's Anastasia Steele a bit more agency than she has in the novel. But after reading the book and watching the movie, the best analogy I can come up with for Fifty Shades of Grey's haphazard approach is that it's the equivalent of a person wanting to buy a vibrator, but being too ashamed to go to an adult store. So instead they do it half-assed and buy a back massager at Walmart to achieve the same ends. And interestingly enough, sex toy injuries have surged since the publication of Fifty Shades of Grey (although, to be fair, that's probably most likely post hoc ergo propter hoc).
The film will pull in over $90 million during the President's Day holiday weekend, with 68 percent of the audience being female, and is on track to gross half a billion when all is said and done. However, some see bigger issues with this movie, such as pop culture notions about women and sex, as well as consent in sexual relationships. Both the film and the book are proof that sex can sell, but it's also part of a strange societal dichotomy where billions are spent every year on porn, most major advertising campaigns have elements of sex appeal, but we're still a culture that finds it hard to have frank and open discussions about sex. We still have huge arguments about teaching children the basic biology of Tab A going into Slot B and preparing them for the complications that arise therein.
But the reason I decided to write about this movie for this week's piece is that it's indicative of how depictions of women and expressions of sexuality usually fall into particular tropes in film, and some of those tropes can be problematic.
Follow beneath the fold for more.
Mixing women, sex and sexual desire in a story typically reduces the female characters to three basic archetypes that are repeated across most movies, television shows, and literature.
- The Ingénue: A young, virginal woman whose untainted "purity" is a feature of why she's desired, and her deflowering is a lure of the plot. The woman's innocent spirit is a character attribute which will "save" her male partner from his depression, dysfunction and problems. The problem with this character is she only really exists to serve the goals of the male, without any real agency. So many times the characters can fall into being "appealing props to help mopey, sad white men self-actualize."
- The Adulteress: A woman in either a stagnant or unhappy relationship who finds happiness with someone else and is ultimately disciplined for it by karma. Both the recent Addicted, based on a best-selling novel by Zane, and Tyler Perry's Temptation use this basic plot. In both films, the female characters are unhappy and sexually unsatisfied. In both films, they pursue their desires. And in both films, they are punished for it. Now I'm not going to argue it's a great thing to cheat on your partner, but it is a bit much when two movies (aimed at African-American audiences) both have messages which basically lecture a morality play that people in despondent relationships should stay loyal otherwise they may die. Yes, Tyler Perry's film argues "that if you cheat on your spouse, you deserve a terrible disease."
- The Seductress: Ever notice the trait usually shared by Femme Fatale killers in thrillers and mysteries? They're sexually aggressive. In most works, if a woman likes to have sex, she will almost always either be vapid, treated like a whore, or ultimately fall into being depicted as the "crazy bitch" in the story. The first time I saw Adrian Lyne's Fatal Attraction as a teen, I thought Glenn Close's Alex was a monster, and that she's tormenting this poor guy and his family. Now, every time I see it I see how awful Michael Douglas's Dan is, and how he exacerbates the situation. He cheats on his wife, knows on day two that he fucked someone who is very unstable. And when confronted with the knowledge that she's pregnant, he does everything he can to sweep it under the rug and/or browbeat Alex into going away. There's a great case to be made that for the first two-thirds of Fatal Attraction, Alex is a victim of the story. But everything changes after the bunny rabbit on the stove. From that point on, the audience wants her dead.
In a previous piece, I discussed some of the issues with depictions of sex. One of the things I brought up was how many of the women I've talked to about this subject feel most sexual/erotic material is not really geared toward them, and shot through a "male gaze." For example, every lesbian I've ever broached this with feels lesbian sex in most movies is not done in a way to depict intimacy, an expression of love, or even female sexual enjoyment, but more centered on what a man would fantasize about with two women having sex.
With Fifty Shades of Grey and Twilight, both properties were written by women, have huge female fan bases, and many of those fans find the sex fantasy in both stories appealing. But the success of Fifty Shades of Grey has seen a backlash from the usual coalition of some feminists and social conservatives which object to sexually explicit material and what they think are the movie's exploitation and "re-branding" of violence against women as romance.
From Emma Green at
The Atlantic:
It’s one thing to ensure that all sex is legal, and that everyone is free to have sex based on their rights as individuals. It’s another to have a culture that encourages people, and particularly young adults, to seek out sexual encounters that are emotionally constructive and based on affirmative values of mutual respect, dignity, and care. As Catharine MacKinnon wrote in 1988, “It is not that life and art imitate each other; in sexuality, they are each other.”
In an interview, Esther Perel, a sex therapist and the author of Mating in Captivity, said, “I find it amazing that this country at this point is going to spill quantities of ink talking about Fifty Shades, when it doesn’t even have a basic education on sex. It’s like you’re introducing alcohol to people who haven’t had any water in years.”
But that's exactly why it's so important to pay attention to the Fifty Shades fantasy.
Fifty Shades of Grey began as
Twilight fan-fiction called
Master of the Universe. Basically, the Bella (Kirsten Stewart) and Edward (Robert Pattinson) love affair is re-imagined where the vampire is now a billionaire CEO that likes violent sex instead of sparkling and playing baseball in thunderstorms. Stephenie Meyer was heavily criticized for what many characterized as writing an "
abusive relationship" with
Twilight, where Bella is for the most part a passive figure, loving a boy with a dangerous secret, forgiving his faults, fearing she might lose him if she does something wrong, and one of the ultimate goals is to have sex with someone who might possibly fuck her to death ... painfully.
With Fifty Shades of Grey, it's the same formula but the danger is shifted over to a man who gets his kicks from mixing pain and sex. However, like Meyer, E.L. James has been chastised for creating a relationship based in exploitation, and even a lot of BDSM practitioners have complained the sex in the story is not a consensual sex act based on a couple agreeing to dominance and submission, but one partner assaulting the other through coercion and being a stalker. And that can't exactly be rationalized away by having Dornan's Grey negotiate a contract for sex acts with Johnson's Steele. Plus, just like Twilight, it's also a story that's horribly, horribly, horribly written.
The following has been called an "iconic" scene from the book that was cut from the movie over the objections of James, along with passages from the novel involving oral sex and Ben Wa balls. And while reading the following blockquote, just remember this book sold over 100 million copies and is the basis for the current number one movie in the country.
His breathing is ragged, matching mine.
“When did you start your period, Anastasia?” he asks out of the blue, gazing down at me.
“Err… yesterday,” I mumble in my highly aroused state.
“Good.” He releases me and turns me around.
“Hold on to the sink,” he orders and pulls my hips back again, like he did in the playroom, so I’m bending down.
He reaches between my legs and pulls on the blue string… what! And… a gently pulls my tampon out and tosses it into the nearby toilet. Holy fuck. Sweet mother of all… Jeez. And then he’s inside me… ah! Skin against skin… moving slowly at first… easily, testing me, pushing me… oh my. I grip on to the sink, panting, forcing myself back on him, feeling him inside me. Oh the sweet agony… his hands clasp my hips. He sets a punishing rhythm - in, out, and he reaches around and finds my clitoris, massaging me… oh jeez. I can feel myself quicken.
“That’s right, baby,” he rasps as he grinds into me, angling his hips, and it’s enough to send me flying, flying high.
Whoa… and I come, loudly, gripping for dear life onto the sink as I spiral down through my orgasm, everything spinning and clenching at once. He follows, clasping me tightly, his front on my back as he climaxes and calls my name like it’s a litany or a prayer.
“Oh, Ana!” His breathing is ragged in my ear, in perfect synergy with mine. “Oh, baby, will I ever get enough of you?” he whispers.
Will it always be like this? So overwhelming, so all-consuming, so bewildering and beguiling. I wanted to talk, but now I’m …
Of course this kind of story is not new, nor is it outside the norm of mainstream fantasy. Most supermarket romance novels with some Fabio-ish illustration are a variation of the alpha male "bad boy" whom the heart of a beautiful woman falls for and is able to "tame the savage beast" while giving into the temptation of lustful passion. And there's nothing inherently wrong with that, since we're talking about fantasies, and fantasies can be whatever each individual wants them to be.
But if you're going to depict a fantasy as a movie, at least make it interesting and not dull as dirt. And that's the major problem with Fifty Shades of Grey. It seems ashamed to fully commit to its source material. Jamie Dornan is an attractive man, but his Christian Grey has no affect, never really works as a person with "God among men" confidence that women just melt for, and is really boring no matter how much he wants to tie someone up. Dakota Johnson's Ana does the best with what she's given, but I never bought her character's participation in this version of a fucked-up fairy tale. And if you're watching this for kinky sex, save yourself some time and just watch porn instead.
