So, the new 50 Shades of Grey movie is set to release next month. Just in time for Valentine’s Day. Will I watch it? Likely. Did I like the books? No.
It’s been over two years since an army of exhausted women with kids from around the globe mustered up some energy and went buck wild for the EL James’ Trilogy. I’m sure husbands everywhere are looking forward to another surge of action when the film hits cinemas, although ideally it would just go straight to DVD…
I was one of the last to get on the 50 Shades bandwagon and was the first, and only in my crew, to hop the hell off.
The moment the young, drunken Anastasia Steele fell at the feet of the composed and sober Christian Grey, was the moment the judgmental realist in me was awakened.
She’s 21. Let her figure it out for herself, Mr. Grey. Even if that means puking in a bush…
Yet I chose to read on.
Now, for those of you who don’t know me I’m a pretty open minded, easy going person-not too quick to judge. I’m generally a “different strokes for different folks” kinda gal so I was surprised to discover the angry critic brewing within me and so early into the first book, nonetheless.
But I guess for me, when it comes to the dominance of men over women, I just don’t have tolerance for it. Once I’d tapped into the controlling nature of Christian Grey’s character, I found myself mourning the loss of a naïve, young woman’s freedom. I couldn’t read on with an open mind while Ana’s character, a virgin nonetheless, was drawn into a world that would enlighten and smother her all at the same time.
Christian Grey was far too overpowering outside the Red Room of Pain for me to find him sexy in it.
Okay, okay. Maybe he was a little bit sexy…
Sure his character had some complexities and childhood tales that would melt any caring woman’s heart but the man was also obsessed with control and he had set expectations about how Ana should be.
I felt claustrophobic for her.
The way I saw it was, if you’ve requested some space and time to yourself and the guy turns up anyway- consider that a sign to get the hell out. Even if he is hot and arrived via helicopter, it’s still stalker behaviour.
Give the woman some room to breathe, I say- a chance to catch her breath.
I’m pretty sure if Ana’s character existed in real life she’d soon become a fan of the anthologies: I Just want to Pee Alone and I Just Want to Be Alone and that’s before the arrival of babies. Imagine what life would be like, at the Grey household, afterwards…
Unlike me, my friends weren’t spending their time analyzing the realism of the characters or the likely real life outcomes of their relationship. Oh no, they spoke of hot sex with their husbands and a new found sense of adventure in the bedroom. One friend revealed a bright pink hand print on her ass cheek during a playdate. Another confessed that she had photocopied sections of the books, for future reference, before returning them to their owner who then passed them swiftly on to the next borrower.
The books were going down so well with everyone around me.
I wanted in.
I wanted to know their joy.
“You’re thinking too much,” they said as they headed eagerly back into their new-found sex-fuelled lives.
Leaving me wondering, were they right? Maybe I did need to chill out.
So, I tried harder to relax.
I aimed to focus on the sex and ignore the storyline…
But I couldn’t do that.
The only passion 50 Shades of Grey instilled in my life was the passion to remind E.L. James that her characters were American, not British.
It’s an elevator, not a lift. She calls; she doesn’t ring. She picks up; she doesn’t collect. And she gets organized, not sorted.
And, “Let’s go throw some shapes on the dance floor!”? What?! I don’t think they even say that in England anymore.
Each British-ism distracted me and further fueled my disdain.
The only way I would be able to come to terms with this romance was if Ana dumped Christian, bought herself a backpack and headed off to Thailand on a solo healing journey.
Alas, it wasn’t Eat Pray Love so that didn’t happen and, not surprisingly, I found myself literally rolling my eyes at the end of the third book when Ana becomes the head of her own publishing company along side her roles as the young mother and wife to a very damaged and incredibly needy individual.
And how exactly, was Ana going to focus on this high powered career? And when did Ana the Editor have time to develop her skills and savvy business mind?
She was far too busy losing herself into a far fetched, all-consuming world of sex, pain and somebody else’s expectations.
Had their affair been a summer fling I may have been able to accept it but all efforts to couple up, rescue and then have kids with this man, all while managing a successful career? It was just too much for me to take.
50 Shades of Grey rocks many worlds, but unfortunately not mine!
All I see are 50 Shades of red.
Photo Credit: Geoffrey Whiteway from Stockvault.net
This post originally appeared on BLUNTmoms.