This was just one of many practical questions raised by this strange, sometimes beautifully filmed, but deeply unsatisfying movie. There are far too many non sequiturs and narrative cul-de-sacs. How can Christian Grey’s life be so controlled and yet his mother is able to enter his house without ringing the doorbell? How did he find out that Ana works in the hardware store? Why, when he is the big, all-controlling boss man, does he let the chignon-wearing grey-suited automaton secretary ladies barge in on his "business meeting” (about butt plugs) with Ana?

There were so many small details that didn’t add up. These things bothered me a lot more than Mr Grey’s actually pretty tame sadomasochistic proclivities. Ostentatious display of antique spanking paddles? Big deal. It was like a six-year-old showing off his Scalextric. Way more creepy was the collection of grey ties and name-embossed pencils, all arranged outward-facing a la Sleeping with the Enemy. Gross.

I felt uncomfortable watching this film with Simon, who historically has less patience for cinematic experiments than I have. By the time we were half an hour in and things had moved on from the hardware store, I could sense the situation was reaching crisis levels of intolerance on a par with an ill-advised viewing of Inception. Fifty Shades is not a great date movie because it’s neither romantic nor especially sexy. Worse, it has the propensity to make you angry because the ending is inconclusive. (There are two sequels in the works.)

I really wanted to appreciate Sam Taylor-Johnson’s direction but struggled to get past the hollow characters. I wish we could have seen Patrick Marber’s script, nixed by the novel’s author, EL James. I wish they had ditched the original story and made more use of the excellent supporting cast. Twenty years on from Pride and Prejudice, Jennifer Ehle is tantalisingly detached as Ana’s mother. I was far more excited to see Ehle in a major Hollywood film than I was to see any of the nudity.

Highlights? Reassuringly lavish pubic hair (though only glimpsed) and none of your Brazilian nonsense. Interesting blink-and-you-miss-them turns from Marcia Gay Harden (Mr Grey’s mum) and Rita Ora (Mr Grey’s sister), who even speaks French. Dakota Johnson and Jamie Dornan are both exceptionally attractive.

The low for me was the attitude of a large portion of the auditorium, 95% female, who fell hard for the "Poor little me, I’m forced to be a pervert because I’m emotionally blocked” thing. Every time Christian Grey said something like, "I’m just not capable of feeling love” (I paraphrase), a roomful of women swooned, "Awwwww”. I just didn’t get it. Man up, you pussy! I felt that this was an agenda Taylor-Johnson might have tried to explore if she had been given free rein with the direction.

On our first cinema date, last century, (or the Olden Days, as our children call it) Simon and I went to see Out of Sight, starring George Clooney as a bank robber trapped in the trunk of a car with Jennifer Lopez, a US marshal. It was a far more believable premise and a far, far better movie. We should have stayed at home and watched that on DVD.

Simon’s view

In any relationship, there are films that one person wants to see more than the other, and I was happy enough to go along with Viv on this one. There was a promising start – a large walk-in wardrobe. Viv has always wanted one of those, and I relaxed, thinking there’d be plenty more of this to enjoy. Without wanting to spoil anything, I can confirm that the arrangements for storing clothes are excellent – and the mainly female audience around me made their loudest approving noises when this was in evidence.

I also picked up that this was going to be a fantasy film, with a passing interaction with the realistic but not much more. Ana drives all the way from Vancouver to Seattle and immediately finds a parking space outside Grey’s building. Disbelief suspended right there, along with the parking restrictions.

I’d have liked more shots of the hardware store where Ana works. It looked like a very interesting hardware store to me. If the range of different-coloured ropes was anything to go by, there would have been a marvellous range of claw hammers and lawn edgers. Just the kind of place to pass the time while your partner is clothes shopping. Keen English literature student Ana seemed very happy there too, no doubt musing about Jude the Obscure.

Twenty minutes in, and the audience was giggling a little less, swooning a little less audibly, sucking popcorn rather than crunching it. Was this going to be a romance? We had watched a trailer for Cinderella before, and that was definitely a romance between two familiar stereotypes. But how to relate to dishcloth Ana and stalky Christian? We know he doesn’t do romance but they always say that in romantic comedies (which this could be, if it were funnier) but that only means that when they inevitably fall, they fall all the harder.

As the film went on though, some of the audience silence may have been down to boredom. I’d noticed for some time that the seats were uncomfortable, and I was losing interest in the couple. There were many unanswered questions about the abuse Christian experienced as a child and as a teenager. Good to know he’s still friends with the woman who made him a slave when he was 15. Awkward, though, in a post-Savile way, surely? Deep down, he may be interesting but it’s nowhere on display. Ana needs to rediscover her self-esteem.

Was it worth it for the sex scenes? Not really. I imagine that reading the books can be a solitary pleasure but sitting in a sticky-floored cinema, a quarter full, felt far from romantic or exciting. Watching Fifty Shades of Grey didn’t feel like escapism. It felt close to witnessing an apology for domestic violence.

There’s some stuff Christian will never come back from. He’s not a likable character to begin with, and it only gets worse. The spanking was embarrassing by the time it arrived. My mind was wandering to take in the details of the cinema architecture, and I couldn’t get the image of the gleeful cane-wielding headmaster in the 1970s sitcom Whack-O! out of my head. Once Christian sold Ana’s lovely Beetle, he lost any remaining sympathy I had for him. Never get into a relationship with someone who sells your car without asking.

The truth is, I’ve seen too many children’s movies recently and I was dying for Mr Grey to ask Ana if she wanted to build a snowman – a pleasure delayed to the sequel, perhaps, when they lighten up.

(theguardian.com)