Fifty Shades of Grey

At a time when any detached sexual fantasy can be satisfied with a couple of clicks on the Internet, a movie adaptation of Fifty Shades of Grey seems to lose its significance.

Part of the appeal of the tawdry romance novel by E.L. James is that the visuals are left to the imagination for its legions of fans, whose faces might have turned various shades of red while flipping the pages but whose expectations for steam and sizzle will inevitably be left unfulfilled here.

It follows Anastasia Steele (Dakota Johnson), a timid college student sent to interview Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan), an alumnus and billionaire entrepreneur for a story in the campus newspaper. Despite the awkwardness of their first meeting, they begin flirting and eventually Anastasia is seduced into a whirlwind romance that includes expensive gifts and visits to Christian’s secluded big-city hideaways.

Although he’s committed, Anastasia becomes frustrated with Christian’s controlling nature and emotional distance, which manifests itself in a hidden desire to involve her in games of bondage and sadomasochism, with her submitting to his dominance. From there it becomes a power struggle, as Anastasia tries to gain the upper hand without surrendering the high-profile boyfriend she desires.

The slick approach of British director Sam Taylor-Johnson (Nowhere Boy) is technically proficient, yet lacks the necessary playfulness, particularly in the abundant scenes of soft-core erotica. She captures the writhing naked torsos with a repeated series of silhouettes and dissolves that wind up more tedious than titillating.

Devotees of the salacious source material might quibble with some subtle deviations from the book in the screenplay by Kelly Marcel (Saving Mr. Banks), although they might not mind that its characters are shallow and superficial, or that its story is manipulative and misogynistic. Those things come with the territory in what amounts to a trumped-up episode of a daytime soap opera.

Yet the biggest error for the filmmakers is taking this eye-rolling mess too seriously by transitioning into a more dramatic female-empowerment fantasy while exploring issues of obsession, perversion, intimacy, materialism, and sexual politics. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?

At least Johnson and Dornan fill the eye-candy requirement, as Fifty Shades of Grey feels like the cinematic reproduction of a tabloid magazine photo spread. Despite its surface pleasures, however, there are better ways to spend two hours with your brain turned off.

Rated R, 125 minutes.