Is anyone of you one of the three lucky winners of the Powerball jackpot?
Oh well, what to do...as long as we have our health we are as rich as we need to be.
San Valentines day is approaching and Cupid is ready with his darts. Let's hope he will get the aim right otherwise he may shot our asses rather than our hearts. I am sure many lovers feel like they have been shot in the derriere considering how painful their last relationship/breakup has been.
To celebrate this joyous day the movie Fifty Shades of Grey will premiere in all cinemas across the United States on the America...
|A snapshot from one of the movie scenes...|
I am beyond my self with excitement.
I am as ecstatic as if I actually was one of the Powerball winners.
I have not read any of the books (only made it through the iBook sample) and I have no particular intention to spend 12$ plus taxes to see the cinematic rendition of such literary masterpiece either.
I did read the review that Justin Chang, Chief Film Critic for Variety has written and I will share my favorite parts with ya'll. (The bold characters are Chang's material, the rest is mine bitches!)
If the problem with too many literary adaptations is a failure to capture the author’s voice, then that shortcoming turns out to be the single greatest virtue of “Fifty Shades of Grey,”...the bestselling assault on sexual mores, good taste and the English language. Director Sam Taylor-Johnson and screenwriter Kelly Marcel have brought out a welcome element of cheeky, knowing humor that gradually recedes as the action plunges into darker, kinkier territory. Glossy, well cast, and a consistent hoot until it becomes a serious drag, this neo-“9½ Weeks” is above all a slick exercise in carefully brand-managed titillation — edgier than most grown-up studio fare, but otherwise a fairly mild provocation in this porn-saturated day and age.
Basically he is saying that the book was shit but a multi-million-dollar Hollywood production managed to make into something half decent. Big whoop...
Fifty Shades of Grey offers sentences like “Desire pools dark and deadly in my groin” and “The muscles inside the deepest, darkest part of me clench in the most delicious fashion.” Is it sadomasochistic longing or is it irritable bowel syndrome? A question myself and the author from Variety's review share in full.
From what I have learned the plot is just so dull it makes my morning cereals taste like gourmet cuisine.
Rich and handsome guy from a very posh and well connected family initiate an English literary students to the pleasures of "kinky-hanky-panky". The story is meant to be one of redemption, in which Ana proves herself to be the true dominant by luring the abused, damaged Christian out of his playroom and into the world of functional human relationship. Yawn.
In slowly easing Ana and the viewer into Christian’s private realm of decadence and deviance, Taylor-Johnson and Marcel reveal an unexpectedly deft and disarmingly irreverent touch, wisely grasping — more so, perhaps, than James and some of her more slap-happy readers — that a film set in the leathery world of BDSM fetishism might not be without a measure of comic potential.
Even the director ended up having to make fun of such silliness and made it pass for infusing depth to an otherwise shallow story.
Relying on the performances of two appealing, fresh-faced leads with little prior onscreen baggage, the filmmakers have turned their version of “Fifty Shades of Grey” into a sly tragicomedy of manners. By happily shedding the book’s 500 or so pages of numbingly repetitive inner monologue and adding the crucial perspective of the camera, the filmmakers have also made Ana a somewhat tougher, more skeptical heroine.
Once again the writer of the books should thank the movie team for elevating her writing to a more acceptable level.
The review continues telling us (I paraphrase) that the movie is indeed quite revealing regarding the matter of the sadomasochistic sex niche but at the end of the day all we see is a luscious display of buttock and boobs. All of the steamy writing that made the books such a success is not brought to life in this soft-core glossy porn of mannerism. Luckily they spared us from the infamous tampon scene. Praise the Lord Almighty.
Mr Grey notes early on “I exercise control in all things,” — spoken like a man who doesn’t realize he’s still got two sequels to go.
May the grey force be with us.
Ciao for now.