Has even the target audience for this junk finally had enough?
A movie this bad deserves to have its flaws enunciated clearly...
The movies aren't so bad they're good. They're so brilliantly bad they're genius, with Foley dutifully presenting every inane plot point while gifting us excuses to laugh.
Other than Dornan's exceptional physique, the movie offers little gratification, delayed or otherwise.
The kind of movie that's fun only when you're laughing at its flaccid attempts at drama.
This is a bad film - at times it's nigh unwatchable - but that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.
No safeword can protect you from the sequel's depleting incoherence, its punishing pileup of plot and its inability to successfully stage, even once, the franchise's claim to notoriety: sex scenes, whether accessorized with hardware or not.
Here we are again: watching two anatomical marvels writhe meaninglessly in the moonlight, like a burlesque performed by bots.
Fifty Shades Darker may wear leather and chains, but it's still a retro bore.