Fifty Shades Freed 1 star review: 'A film that goes out of its way to avoid entertaining anyone with a pulse'
HEY, you! Do you like fast cars, extravagant European excursions, inconsequential storytelling, dazzling diamond rings, cardboard protagonists and heavy bondage?
Are you longing for the most troubling on-screen relationship since John Wayne convinced Maureen O’Hara that he wasn’t such a bad guy in The Quiet Man?
Are you crying out for the great Christian Grey (f***ed-up billionaire businessfella) and Anastasia Steele (she needs to run) to tie the knot, get back to the playroom and endure all the happiness and, er, hardships of married life? If so, then Fifty Shades Freed — a film that goes out of its way to avoid entertaining anyone with a pulse — is the cinematic climax for you.
You know the score. It’s the final part in the least sexiest series about sex ever, based on those novels people used to read on their holliers.
Jamie Dornan is mortified actor number one (Mr Grey). Dakota Johnson is mortified actor number two (now Mrs Grey). This time around, they have saucy times with ice cream, they talk about babies and they have a stalker.
What a ride (the film, I mean). What a time to be alive. What a way to finish.
Here's a female reviewer's take on it: Fifty Shades Freed review: 'The plot has more holes than a block of cheese but I loved every minute'