Which is to say, it is far worse than the first movie-which, though awful, in hindsight looks like Citizen Kane, only with more discussion of dildos. James), Fifty Shades Freed is precisely as atrocious as one might imagine. The third and final-let’s pause and savor that word for a moment-adaptation of the “erotic romance” novel series by Erika Mitchell (pen name: E. This week, the name of that sacrifice is Fifty Shades Freed. Suffice to say that I made either the wise decision to skip them or the only marginally less-wise decision to repress all memory of them.īut writing about movies is something I’m paid to do, and occasionally that entails a degree of professional self-sacrifice. I don’t believe that I read either of the book’s sequels, though I can’t attest to that with much confidence. For reasons that are now obscure to me-and were by definition ill-conceived-I read Fifty Shades of Grey at that terrible moment in American history when it seemed that everyone else was reading it too.
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