If you don’t understand the appeal of this kind of quasi-erotic, soft-lipped cinema, the better of which we used to get from directors such as Adrian Lyne, I’m not sure I can sell you on it. It’s basically just porn, you’ll say. It’s brainless and demographically insulting and not even hot. This is all true, more or less. But the same moviegoing loyalty that drives people to, say, comic-book movies has always driven me to movies like Fifty Shades, and I can safely say I’d rather watch five more of these than another Marvel movie (well, ). There is something special about seeing a bawdy spectacle of feigned sex and quivering emotion test the boundaries of Hollywood’s rigid traditionalism, and their goofy thrall over audiences make for especially fun experiences in a theater. These movies are derivative, often ridiculous, and, in the case of Fifty Shades Freed, unquestionably hilarious, but they’re also the overheated comfort food I crave.




















