“There is not enough wine for this movie,” I say to my friend, nestled into an exceptionally comfy lounge chair next to me at a luxury theater in Laguna Niguel called Cinepolis.
We’ve already sampled EL James’ 50 Shades of Grey red wine, which is $15 a glass or $55 a bottle and not worth it, and split a bottle of Irony pinot for much less.
Orange Coast magazine and Cinepolis cinemas hosted a sneak advance screening of the much-anticipated Fifty Shades of Grey movie last night, and we were lucky enough to attend. The crowd was what you’d expect: affluent, probably mostly single women, and just rowdy (read: drunk) enough in the theater to be funny but not obnoxious.
Background: I hated the books—they’re horribly written, grammatically inept, plot-challenged bargain-bin erotica. There is better erotica out there, people. (Side note: some have argued that the books are not any more grammatically inept than other romance novels, but I still don’t buy it.)
However, I DO appreciate what the Fifty Shades phenomena did for the American psyche: make talking about sex more acceptable. Take a baby step toward talking about different kinds of sex as acceptable in common society and mixed company. Which doesn’t ignore the fact that this is still incredibly hetero-normative, patriarchal sex, but baby steps are baby steps.
I digress. The movie was exactly what you expected it to be from reading the book, from watching the previews, from taking a wild guess. Mr. Grey does nothing for me (just too short), character development is thin at best, and there are several missed opportunities for actual emotional scenes. Oh, and there’s softcore porn.
The soundtrack is good though.
However, seeing a fun, saucy movie on a Thursday night in this amazing theater in recliners with food and wine served to me? NO complaints about that!