I would like to be upfront about my prior knowledge of the Fifty Shades franchise, which, before attending Fifty Shades Freed, was almost nonexistent. Everything I knew, I learned while reading the back cover of Fifty Shades of Grey while perusing the discounted books section at Target.
Anyway, here’s my review.
Fifty Shades Freed is the third and final (thank God) installation in the Fifty Shades series. Anastasia (Ana) Steele has just married everyone’s favorite fabulously wealthy sex aficionado, Christian Grey. The couple can now spend the rest of their lives participating in their two favorite activities: blindly chucking money toward absurdly luxurious amenities and having sex.
But the golden life of the newlyweds is short-lived. Ana has barely adjusted to her new title of Mrs. Grey when a surprise pregnancy catches her off guard. And if that wasn’t enough, a villain from her past is back, and is willing to kill to get revenge.
Though some of these events may seem common, or at the very least, feasible, the characters in Fifty Shades Freed actually exist in a reality very distant from our own.
This is a world where running a publishing business (Ana’s chosen profession) involves mostly shuffling papers and dictating font sizes. This is a world where everyone can hear a marriage proposal that, for some unknown reason, is taking place in the center of a crowded techno club. This is a world where Rita Ora is now an actress.
This is a world showcasing a main character so detached from her own reality that even though she has ridden in her fiancé’s planes, crashed at his million-dollar apartment and viewed his enormous sex “playroom” full of thousands of dollars worth of vibrators, still arrives at his private jet, moments after committing her life to him through the bonds of marriage, and declares, dumbfounded, “You own this?”
The questions I have about Ana and Christian’s relationship could fill a textbook, and I worry the preceding books and movies wouldn’t answer much. These people have somehow agreed to spend the rest of their lives together, yet have never discussed future plans for children, Ana’s relationship with her work or even who should cook dinner.
Though Fifty Shades prides itself on its more steamy sexual moments, the sex scenes in the movie are disjointed and unrealistic. The plot of Fifty Shades Freed is just as confusing as the average porno, but with half the nudity. Every 10 minutes there is another opportunity for sex, always sound tracked by a vaguely seductive pop song.
For Ana and Christian, there’s never a bad time to get it on, whether it’s the middle of the night in a vacation home while all their close friends are asleep, or immediately after narrowly avoiding an attacker during a car chase.
The film is so laughably bad that critiquing it almost feels pointless. Twenty minutes in I found myself simply accepting and even enjoying the baffling ride. Ana and Christian are leaving their wedding in the middle of the party? Sure. No one in Christian’s life has ever once seen him cry? Seems reasonable! Ana’s job is so easy that she can afford to spend an entire morning ruminating on the butt plug her husband used the night before? Yeah, why not!
Fifty Shades Freed is not a comedy. But it may end up being the funniest thing you’ve ever seen.