When it came to reviewing Fifty Shades of Grey, there was only one Mercury writer we could send, and only partly because everyone else would have said no: Elinor Jones. She went to the film last night, and the screening, which also featured a screaming baby, sounds like an almost unbearably erotic experience:
I saw this film in a packed theater and thought about bringing a tarp, Gallagher-style, for how wet it was about to get, but no: You can’t watch Johnson bite her lip and arch her back while stern-faced Dornan drags a peacock feather over her thighs in a dark room filled with strangers and feel turned on. If you have to reposition your pants during the film, you’re weird.
Elinor’s review is here. A trailer that I am going to pretend is the real trailer for the film is below.
