The privacy fence out back with the missing strips.
The bedroom light that still doesn't have a fixture.
That bare spot in the top corner that my paintbrush simply couldn't reach. Eight years ago.
I wish I could tell you it's because I like to see things through, but ask my wife, that's total bullshit.
There really is no excuse to rent Fifty Shades Freed with actual currency (you shouldn't even use Kohl's cash), and even less of an excuse to stand up, walk across the room and place it in the blu ray player after doing so. Sadly, I'm guilty of both offenses. Look, I enjoy bad movies as much as anyone (uh, maybe more so), but let me be quite clear with you: this movie is f--king horrendous.
Right, Wolf Blitzer can sit the f--k down because clearly that ain't BREAKING NEWS, I realize. But after being mystified by the first one [review] and delighted by the idiocy of the second [here and here], I actually found myself foolishly/ridiculously/morbidly looking forward to seeing how this whole nonsensical phenomenon wrapped up. I know...I also can't believe I just said that.
Please, please don't think I give anything resembling a hard f--k about Anna, Kristoff and their 'relationship', because I don't. At all. This is car-crash cinema at its finest, dammit, but I'm way more curious about the people looking at the accident than the accident itself. At least that's what I tell myself.
Oh, and there's the small bonus of wholly relishing the fact that Jamie Dornan delivers each ridiculous line like he's just been pulled from a wreck that should've killed him. Like, he convinces everyone he's fine, only to discover that two days later, while washing his luxurious mane, the emergency brake from his Audi is still lodged in his skull.
Anyway, just in case you care/want to absolutely hate the next five minutes of your life, here's what we've got with what feels like the nineteenth entry into this trilogy: Eva and Kevin immediately get married. Then, as they are prone to do, fight after the slightest misunderstanding. They have something resembling intercourse to reconnect. Mostly. She occasionally shows she may or may not be a sexbot, by driving a car and making dinner - but not at the same time. Goodness, let's not tax the girl, as she has the mettle of a baby unicorn. Someone is taken hostage. More cars are driven. More food is prepared. I think a murderous prick is shot in the scrotum. Oh, and somebody gets ice cream eaten off their genitals. But maybe not in that order.
Speaking of something that smells like mint chocolate chip and ball sweat, here are the Yays and Boos. We've been trying to shed some pounds as of late, so if you offered us either of the above, go ahead and pencil us in for the sack sap. To produce, you f--king weirdo, whilst exercising, obviously.
While my home and personal (and professional) life may be a series of unfinished projects and incomplete tasks, at least I can look myself in the mirror and say that I saw the entire Fifty Shades trilogy start to finish. Not that ever would do that mind you, because that's f--king embarrassing and pathetic, right? Of course it is.
But also because the only good mirror is in the bathroom.
And the light bulb burned out a week ago.
The bedroom light that still doesn't have a fixture.
That bare spot in the top corner that my paintbrush simply couldn't reach. Eight years ago.
I wish I could tell you it's because I like to see things through, but ask my wife, that's total bullshit.
 |
| Wish I missed the resolution. |
Right, Wolf Blitzer can sit the f--k down because clearly that ain't BREAKING NEWS, I realize. But after being mystified by the first one [review] and delighted by the idiocy of the second [here and here], I actually found myself foolishly/ridiculously/morbidly looking forward to seeing how this whole nonsensical phenomenon wrapped up. I know...I also can't believe I just said that.
Please, please don't think I give anything resembling a hard f--k about Anna, Kristoff and their 'relationship', because I don't. At all. This is car-crash cinema at its finest, dammit, but I'm way more curious about the people looking at the accident than the accident itself. At least that's what I tell myself.
Oh, and there's the small bonus of wholly relishing the fact that Jamie Dornan delivers each ridiculous line like he's just been pulled from a wreck that should've killed him. Like, he convinces everyone he's fine, only to discover that two days later, while washing his luxurious mane, the emergency brake from his Audi is still lodged in his skull.
Anyway, just in case you care/want to absolutely hate the next five minutes of your life, here's what we've got with what feels like the nineteenth entry into this trilogy: Eva and Kevin immediately get married. Then, as they are prone to do, fight after the slightest misunderstanding. They have something resembling intercourse to reconnect. Mostly. She occasionally shows she may or may not be a sexbot, by driving a car and making dinner - but not at the same time. Goodness, let's not tax the girl, as she has the mettle of a baby unicorn. Someone is taken hostage. More cars are driven. More food is prepared. I think a murderous prick is shot in the scrotum. Oh, and somebody gets ice cream eaten off their genitals. But maybe not in that order.
 |
| The leg is dinner. Desert? He's having Rocky Road (out of her Hershey Highway). |
 |
| When you realize bad movies pay good money. |
Yaaaaaaay?
- That architect lady was super...aggressive. And hot. If only her specialty was all-glass showers and saunas.
- Her outfit at the bail hearing was hysterical. I'm pretty sure if you're trying to blend in, dressing like Holly Golightly trying not to fart ain't exactly gonna cut it.
- Scary Guy makes a creepy phone call, hangs up, and violently throws his phone...nine inches away. Into a puddle. Where it surely won't ever be found, motherf--ker.
- Banker Guy might be my favorite character in this entire series. First, I'm pretty sure he's a robot. And a vampire. And second? The only thing he screws people up the butt with are fees and high interest rates. Not, you know, everything else.
- You ever have that nightmare where your dreamily slow-dancing with the guy that tried to kill you? OMG, me too! (this scene is so poorly done, I loved it)
- In my, gasp, other reviews, I'm pretty sure I've mentioned the delicious awfulness that Max Martini brings to these flicks as Taylor, Mr. Grey's personal bodyguard. His voice, which may be God-given, is so completely terrible...it just might be my favorite thing ever. Imagine someone standing on your throat while simultaneously taking a dump on your chest. You're confused. You're hurt. You pretty much can't breathe. This is what Taylor sounds like. Always.
- And finally, I've run the numbers: they will not be making any more of these goddamned movies. F--k off Fifty Shades, m.brown is the one who just got Freed.
 |
| Even with a slight Ivanka vibe, I was a big fan of this chick. |
Booooooooo...
...ooooooooo...
...oooooooo?
- How the f--k is she still surprised by his wealth? Seriously. He could whisper into my ear that the anal beads he jammed up my ass last Wednesday were made of vibranium and it wouldn't shock me. Girl, he's got money. Figure that shit out.
- Literally, every single romantic flick cliche is nailed in a twenty-second span. Riding oversized bicycles like we're in a boner-pill commercial? Check. Unnecessarily eating in a rain storm? Yep. Kissing on a boat? Doing it on a four-poster? Done and done. Making me wish I was dead? Nailed it.
- On their honeymoon, he's super protective of her....boobs. What. The. F--k. He wants to slap her titties around like there's a spider on a drum set, sure, but if someone haphazardly glances near them, that's where you draw the line?
- He's good at braiding hair. Because he's good with knots, amiright? Huh? Huh? That's actually cool. You think you could fashion a noose, Mr. Grey and f--king hang yourself with it, you overly-obvious creep.
- Jack Hyde, professional villain. First, don't think any of us are impressed by his last name. We're not, and we f-king hate you for trying. And second? This guy is the biggest bitch ever. Seriously. He makes the guy from I Know What You Did Last Summer look like f--king Jason Voorhees, for f--k's sake.
- Who is this helper lady, Tonya Harding? Why doesn't she if she can land a triple lutz triple toe off the f--king roof.
- Ana gets a promotion. As a fiction editor. And I'm not sure she can read.
- Is it really that romantic when you're utterly convinced that the two newly-married leads actually even know each other?
- Sweet f--k, the scene where she has to LOSE THEM. Why is this a thing? It's bad enough that we have to watch her drive like an asshole for three minutes. But worse? Then they f--k for like three seconds. Didn't anybody on the set take math in college? These ratios are way off.
- At one point, she's gonna give Grey a really romantic haircut. Fine, I guess. She sits him down, washes his hair. Rubs all up on him - the whole bit. But guess what she forgot to lay out? The f--king scissors. She actually says, hold on, let me go find the exact thing I needed to do this job I've so delicately planned. BUT WORSE? She doesn't find the scissors. She finds a f--king gun, instead. Which is rather fitting, when you think about it.
- Dakota Fanning, er, Johnson....whatever the f--k her name is, I'm sure she's a nice person. Really. But her voice, at least in these films, is maddening. She sounds like she's really tired from a long day of running across rainbows.
- And then she says things like, Why do you look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about? Because you sound like a newborn unicorn, perhaps?
- Cops arrest a guy. Cop #1: You got any cuffs? Cop #2: No. Ana: I dooooooooooo!!!!
- Grey has a hard day, so naturally he takes a shower in the center of the room. His wife enters, things are good. Until she lunges for his wang, that is. What the Hell are you doing Anastasia? *storms off* What's worse? Is now I'm the one who feels like a dick.
- For real, one of those boob close-ups? Those were stunt knockers, I'm sure of it.
- Wait, she gets a safe word and I don't? This is f--king bullshit, man.
- Of course, since he's alarmingly wealthy, they go on yet another vacation. Why? Because she needs a break. From not working, sleeping 19 hours a day and only being able to exhale.
- What part of Christian's character would ever have him singing a Paul McCartney song? Right, the part I hate.
- Dakota is lovely, fine, but would it have been so bad to have someone else get unnecessarily naked once or twice? Perhaps our couple comes running in from a romantic acid rain storm, only to accidentally enter the wrong hotel room, where a huge Eyes Wide Shut ultra-orgy is taking place. After taking a good long look, maybe even ordering some food, they run out and have a hearty laugh against the back of the door. Like, wow, what a bunch of weirdos. Cut to: Christian tying her up and spanking her with a tennis racket.
- Look, if a text message is important, can we please overlay it? I'm too f--king blind to read someone else's phone from a quarter-mile away.
- Dude, I'm pretty sure that's not how you handle the we're having a baby announcement.
- But even worse? The way she handles her stomach like she's seven days away from giving birth, rather than seven days in.
- Just wait till you find out why Hyde hates Grey so much. Just you f--king wait.
- One of the stupid things mentioned repeatedly (or once, I'm not even sure anymore) is that Christian has never cried. Ever. Which is odd, because I've been sobbing ever since I met him.
- I think we're supposed to leave this film and this franchise uplifted that they have a family now, and in fact, are expecting again. I guess I'm thrilled, other than the fact that he's still whipping her in the bedroom. When she's pregnant.
- And finally, they hit us with a montage of all three movies, like a best-of scene, and it absolutely killed me. Not emotionally, you a-hole, like literally. Hey, m.brown...here's highlights of all the time you've wasted in your miserable life. Enjoy!
While my home and personal (and professional) life may be a series of unfinished projects and incomplete tasks, at least I can look myself in the mirror and say that I saw the entire Fifty Shades trilogy start to finish. Not that ever would do that mind you, because that's f--king embarrassing and pathetic, right? Of course it is.
But also because the only good mirror is in the bathroom.
And the light bulb burned out a week ago.