Fifty Shades Darker is better than the first but only just

By Nicholas BarberFeatures correspondent

Fifty Shades of Grey was serious, self-regarding – and an absolute stinker. But in Fifty Shades Darker, the cast and crew seemed to have lightened up a bit, writes Nicholas Barber.

Call me a stickler, but I always think that if a sequel has “Darker” in its title, then it should be, well, less light than the film it’s following. Gloomier, maybe. Murkier, if you like. Perhaps a bit more tenebrious and crepuscular. But the makers of Fifty Shades Darker obviously disagree. The sequel to Fifty Shades of Grey, again adapted from a bestselling ‘erotic’ ‘novel’ by EL James, is brighter, cheerier, more colourful, and altogether fluffier than its predecessor. It’s also better. But only slightly. 

The last film came to an abrupt ending of the coitus interruptus variety. A student with a long fringe and the unlikely name of Anastasia Steele (Dakota Johnson) was being whipped by her brooding billionaire boyfriend, Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan), when she decided that his taste for S&M was too extreme for her. She walked out on him, disgusted by his savagery. It seemed as if there was little hope that they could save their relationship. 

And yet – spoiler alert – they save it in no time. At the start of Fifty Shades Darker, Ana is at the opening of her friend’s photography show in Seattle (creepily, this so-called friend didn’t tell her that several of those photographs would be poster-sized close-ups of her) when Christian walks in and promises her that from now on he won’t do anything in or out of the bedroom that upsets her. He is keen on whips and chains because he had a rough childhood, he explains, but now he is willing to put all that behind him. Ana agrees to give him another chance. And that’s it. That’s the whole film.

Despite drifting along for almost two hours, 50 Shades Darker is about nothing except Christian being nice and Ana being pleased about it. It would be over in half that time if it weren’t for the regular-as-clockwork sex scenes and some of the most distractingly blatant product placement ever seen outside of a Bond movie.

And don’t get too excited about those sex scenes. Johnson and Dornan sportingly get their tops off on a regular basis, but the reformed Christian doesn’t persuade Ana to do anything that would be too outré for a romantic comedy. The posters show the lovers wearing masks, which might suggest some sort of illicit swingers’ club, as in Eyes Wide Shut. But no – it turns out that Christian’s parents are throwing a Venetian-themed charity ball. What’s ‘Darker’ about that?

Bound to fail 

To be fair, there are a few speed bumps on the course of true love. One of Christian’s exes (Bella Heathcote) keeps popping up and looking glum. The woman who taught Christian everything he knows about bondage appears, too, although because she is played by Kim Basinger, she makes you wish you were watching 9 1/2 Weeks instead. Ana also has some difficulties at her groovy new office job (thus making you wish you were watching Johnson’s mother, Melanie Griffith, in Working Girl). And Christian’s helicopter crashes for no reason whatsoever. But it’s hilarious how quickly and easily these little snags are smoothed over and forgotten. It may be a thrill to have a boyfriend so wealthy, well-connected, skilled and decisive that he can make every problem vanish instantly, but it doesn’t do much for dramatic tension.

Still, the fact that Fifty Shades Darker is actually Fifty Shades Lighter than the first film is a point in its favour. One of the only redeeming features of Fifty Shades of Grey was that Johnson was well aware of how daft it was, and managed to undercut its pomposity with an array of eye rolls, pouts, and ironicly delivered lines. It’s hard to say whether that film’s director, Sam Taylor-Johnson, saw the funny side, but her replacement on the sequel, James Foley, is happy to indulge his leading lady’s impish sense of humour. Ana is a stronger heroine as a result, and there are times when the film’s comedy is deliberate, rather than accidental. 

It still isn’t great, mind you. With its wispy plot, its flat dialogue, its rudimentary staging, and its drooling adoration of the super-rich’s conspicuous consumption, Foley’s dopey romantic fantasy is only a few semi-nude scenes away from being a daytime-TV movie. But the added levity does make a welcome change. It seems as if everyone involved in the production realised that because Fifty Shades of Grey was dreadful, but made £450 million at the box office, anyway, they might as well relax and enjoy themselves.

The trouble is that if you take away Christian’s tortured soul and his air of mystery, you’re left with a fundamentally boring person. Is there any chance that Ana will stick with this humourless dweeb after she’s got tired of being handcuffed and blindfolded? Towards the end of the film, someone accuses her of being a gold-digger, and I was struck by what an ingenious twist that would be. What if the trilogy’s next instalment revealed that Ana was a cunning confidence trickster who only put up with Christian’s kinks because she wanted his money? It would be a lot more interesting than anything that happens in Fifty Shades Darker.

★★☆☆☆ 

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