Here’s a criticism of Fifty Shades of Grey you probably weren’t expecting: There’s not nearly enough sex in it. There was supposed to be a lot more. Screenwriter Kelly Marcel originally cooked up a sizzling script for Shades, but producers and Universal brass toned it down by the time they got to shooting. That’s a shame, because Marcel performed nothing short of a miracle here, turning hapless, unreadable fan-fiction rubbish that somehow caught fire into a capable, slow-building script. By boldly stripping away the book’s iconic but most preposterous elements, the film ultimately holds up as a stylish and simmering power struggle between a kinky billionaire and the innocent college grad for whom he inexplicably falls.
