![]() That’s the mind-game these movies have mastered: Despite all the crap you have to put up with, you come back begging for more. And next year when Fifty Shades Freed is released, they might just be what I remember. They portray BDSM as something that can apparently be consensual and fun even (or perhaps especially?) when it means having your legs force-spread by a rod. Their microdrama contains everything the movie overall lacks-momentum, suspense, an arc. ![]() These sequences are both outrageous and hot. At one point Christian grabs the bar and flips Anastasia onto her back like a hamburger patty. And two particular sex scenes are the highlights of the movie: one featuring two metal balls that Christian artfully places inside Anastasia (and then later removes) the other involving ankle cuffs attached to an expandable bar. All the glimmers of self-consciousness are delightful, like when Christian ravenously throws Anastasia over his shoulder as they walk past his seen-it-all maid. The movie is best when it leans into its smuttiness instead of trying to pad it out with pathos. But you do sort of have to admire the expediency with which each scene of Fifty Shades Darker hustles its protagonists through three minutes of rote dialogue, rips off their eveningwear, and arranges them on Christian’s silky sheets. ![]()
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