Fifty Shades of Grey

"Anastasia," our heroine, makes us think of the fabled long lost Romanov, who might have wandered America after the Russian Revolution. (Indeed, Anastasia Steele does seem like a former princess, rediscovering her own greatness in the course of the story. She goes from a frumpy, clumsy bookworm to a polished multi-trillionaire mistress of a vast domain. That last name--"Steele"--points to the strength of her character, and Johnson does play her as a kind of superhero.) The name "Christian" gives to the franchise's hero an aura of otherworldliness. And then the last name "Grey" suggests shadows, mysteries, skeletons in the closet, "grey areas." (Say what you will about E.L. James: There's a reason she now has enough money to purchase your soul, and several small islands, and still have heaps of gold in the bank.)

The first "Fifty Shades" movie told a smart, diverting Hero's-Journey tale. Anastasia leaves her Ordinary World of baggy sweaters and dusty books for the Enchanted World of S&M and gourmet meals. The stroke of genius: All those S&M trappings. In a standard rom-com, characters would fret about meeting the parents and seeing the ole hometown, but in "Fifty Shades," the fraught discussions are about nipple clamps, whips, "sub" rules, barriers against affection and human feeling. Anastasia chafes against Christian's demands; negotiations play out via terse text messages, which we see on the big screen. In wrestling with Christian, Anastasia "finds her voice"; she leaves the relationship, and she is permanently changed. As in any great love story, there is, here, a big mess of warmth and anger and regret, and we sense that the tumult isn't finished.

"Fifty Shades Darker"--really, a lazy movie, and still one of the more enjoyable evenings I've had, recently, in a theater--might have started as a response to "The Odyssey." Like Homer, E.L. James throws various ogres in her protagonist's path (though she does it in a way that is simultaneously fun and half-assed, whereas Homer isn't really fun or trashy). In one corner: The lecherous boss who wants to assault Anastasia. In another: a former "sub" who almost literally haunts Christian's apartment, carrying a gun. In yet another: Kim Basinger! She seduced/molested Christian in his childhood, like Rita in "Transparent" (and Christian sort of believes he liked it, this initiation into the world of doms and subs with a chilly older woman). And then--yet more!--a faulty helicopter that endangers Christian's life. Anastasia skips merrily through these varied briar patches--and decides she wants to marry Christian, almost incidentally--and we're left awaiting yet another installment (because Marcia Gay Harden's slapping Kim Basinger doesn't really mean the end of Kim Basinger).

As side-notes, these movies give us Zayn, and Taylor Swift, and Ellie Goulding, and The Weeknd. (I'm almost certain that Goulding's birdlike trills--"I'll let you set the paaace....cuz I'm not thinking straight..."--inspired Tay Tay's recent breathiness on "Wildest Dreams" and "Dress.") In sum, the films have brought much more good than bad to the world. And even the bad stuff is delicious. Have I persuaded you? Have I just jumped the shark? Your thoughts are most welcome!

***

Here's some perfect writing from Laura Ingalls Wilder's memoir, "Pioneer Girl"--

Pa would run his fingers through his hair standing it all on end; then he'd get down on all fours and growling would chase us around the room, trying to corner us so we couldn't get away. We were quick at dodging him but once he caught us by the woodbox behind the stove. Then Pa growled so terribly, his hair looked so wild and his eyes so fierce, that it all seemed real to us instead of just play.

Mary was so frightened she could not move, but I gave a scream as he started to come nearer and with a wild leap I went over the woodbox dragging Mary after me.

Then there was no dog at all, only Pa standing there with his blue eyes so bright and shining looking at me.

"Well," he said,"you may be only a half pint of cider half drank up, but by jinks you're strong as a little French horse."

A journey. In the ordinary world, there's Pa, Mary, and Laura. But: Run your fingers through your hair, stand it all on end, and you've created an Enchanted World. Pa becomes a growling dog. Laura is no longer an obedient schoolgirl; she is an adventuress. Character is established through action; Good Girl Mary can't do a damn thing, but Laura gets her shit together and saves the day. (This would become a recurring theme in the "Little House" books.) The "wild leap," "over the woodbox"--through force of will, Laura is conquering the demon, ejecting the villain. (Like Alice passing *back* through the looking glass, Laura is returning to the ordinary world with a magical elixir, new evidence of her previously-unsung valor.)

Show, don't tell: For a moment, Wilder fully slips into the character of the little girl: "Then there was no dog at all, only Pa standing there with his blue eyes so bright and shining looking at me." (Of course, there was never a dog; through a trick of perspective, Wilder makes us *believe* we are inside the skin of the ingenuous little girl.) Order is restored; the prize is approbation from Pa, and one of the most memorable sentences I've ever encountered. "You may be only a half pint of cider half drank up, but by jinks you're strong as a little French horse." The repetition of "half," the image of the cider and the little French horse--you can't invent local color like that. (And who knew there was something special about French horses?) LIW's biographer argues that she (LIW) was at her best when she was least self-conscious--and it seems that's what we have here. Gold mined from the depths of the soul. It makes me want to give Laura Ingalls Wilder another chance.

p.s. Do you think of the start of "Fun Home"--with the dad and the helicopter legs and the little girl? That's where my mind goes.