"Fifty Shades of Forgettable" might be a better title for Sam Taylor-Johnson's interminable movie adaptation of the blockbuster novel. Certainly there's nothing even vaguely smoldering about this limp and lifeless film.
E.L. James' erotic trilogy seduced millions with its soft porn romance between a virgin and a sadist. She's got the looks, he's got the money. It's Jane Austen with "safe words."