To be honest, I’ve never seen a single Twilight film. I’ve seen plenty of summaries and reviews bashing the poor romance and hackneyed story, but never actually saw the films themselves. When I heard Fifty Shades of Grey was going to be a film series, and having not touched the books (perhaps on purpose), I knew this was a phenomenon that I couldn’t miss. Too bad that’s it’s rarely a phenomenon at all.

Despite the fact that this was based on a horrendously-written bestseller, I came into this movie stupidly optimistic that the medium of film would elevate the story of Ana and Christian beyond what E.L. James could do on paper. If the film is any indicator, this story must have been unsalvageable.

Anastasia Steele (who’s a frontrunner for the Fakest, Dumbest Name Award) is a complete ditz and should not be this naïve over the most obvious “subtexts” that her foil Christian Grey delivers. Her roommate states she has a 4.0 GPA, but assumes that Christian’s so-called “play-room” is where he plays video games, despite him referencing his sexually rough lifestyle throughout the film. Give credit to Dakota Johnson, who tries in vain to make her character work and give her some life, but Jamie Dornan refuses to give her anything to bounce off of.

Christian himself is a flat, boring character. His personality traits are money, planes, cars, S&M, and 2edgy4u songs on the piano. Any kind of character that can be dredged out from him can only suggest a controlling, abusive jerk that no sane woman could stand being with for a second. He’ll be drab at first, and then he’ll take off his shirt, say he’ll fuck you so hard in the ass that you can’t sit for a week, and then eat the toast out of your hand (yes, this was meant to be taken seriously, and is only of the small handful of unintentionally funny bits in this dreck).

But the sex is good, right? Not at all. If you want kinky and explicit sex, watch The Wolf of Wall Street. At least that movie had the balls to show some dick and balls. The most we get here are Dakota’s breasts (big deal, Fifth Element and Titanic had them, and they were both PG-13) and her butt (again, Titanic). Oh, and there’s a three-frame shot of the base of Christian’s shaft hidden in his jungle of pubes, but otherwise, this is as “risqué” as it gets. And because Ana and Christian have no real chemistry and rely solely on the plot to move their relationship and sexual journey forwards, it can’t even stand as a decent romance film. It’s utterly worthless on both fronts.

However, the real crime to this film is that it’s immensely boring from start to finish. There’s no real plot at all, and any shreds of it that can be seen are equally boring because the characters have no spark whatsoever. The ending doesn’t even set any bait to lure the audience to the sequels (except for those who’ve read the books (or are unsalvageable in their lack of taste and intelligence)), and just leaves at what appears to be a clear cut resolution, one that I would be more than happy to call the end to this whole mess.

With few too laughs to enjoy ironically, no courage to go all out with its explicit premise, and a pair of uninterested leads that robotically suck face and rub crotch, there is no enjoying Fifty Shades of Grey on virtually any level, and all involved should be ashamed to be in it.

Final Verdict:

Kingsman: The Secret Service marks the second adaptation of a Mark Millar graphic novel by director Matthew Vaughn, the first being Kick-Ass, a violent, vulgar, but unabashedly giddy superhero entry whose energy and rich characters won over audiences and critics alike. With Kingsman, Vaughn enters into the spy subgenre, and he seems to have just a firm grip on it as he had with caped crusaders in Kick-Ass.

While not as consistently wacky and in-your-face as Kick-Ass, Kingsman has many shining elements within, first and foremost, its characters. Most of them, namely breakthrough lead Taron Egerton as Eggsy (seriously, people in Britain must love having egg names), Colin Firth as his mentor Harry “Galahad” Hart are both extremely likeable and give two of the most rootable heroes in recent memory. Samuel L. Jackson is having a load of fun as the lisping tech marvel Valentine, who despite his impediment, is a rather formidable force for the Kingsmen thanks to his intelligence and affluence. Assisting him is the impossibly sexy and even deadlier Gazelle, performed stunningly by Sofia Boutella, whose bladed prosthetics offer some of the best close-combat fight sequences in many years.

While there’s no short supply of action throughout the film, much of it comes off as either very normal or Kick-Ass levels of insanity. There’s a very cool Halo jump sequence in the middle of the film and a pulse-pounding chase and rundown in Valentine’s lair that’s a sight to behold, but those scenes also share space with a Hit Girl-esque pub fight and Westboro Baptist Church massacre done to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Freebird, which (while unbelievably amazing) feel oddly out of place with the rest of the film. It would feel as if a Daniel Craig James Bond film was suddenly hijacked by Edgar Wright in certain scenes.

Like Kick-Ass, Kingsman also has a surprising amount of depth to it. With Eggsy having to prove his worth as he vies to become an agent despite his humble origins, as well as protect and care for his family in the wake of his alcoholic stepdad, and watching the extent of Valentine’s plan coming into fruition, it proves that it’s no mindless flick in the slightest. With the richness of all the characters involved and the arcs they all achieve, Vaughn securely creates a film that will spawn some very wanted and very needed sequels.

With brains, heart, and brawn, Kingsman: The Secret Service creates a rare action film that works on a very layered level, surely giving action buffs, film geeks, and general audiences something that they will love and hopefully continue loving into the next film in the series.

Final Verdict:

In the wake of director Neil Blomkamp's denouncement of his second film, Elysium, one would think that he would work that much harder to ensure that his next film, Chappie, would be the one to prove that he is no one-trick pony with District 9. Unfortunately, and aggravatingly, this is not the case.

Chappie himself is a fun and interesting character, and he really carries the full weight of the film on his shoulders, because it seems no one else is helping. Characters range from flat and cliched to incredibly dumb. The actors playing them don't really seem to aid this either. Hugh Jackman seems to be the only one having any sort of enjoyment here, despite the sheer boneheadedness and psychopathy of his character that somehow goes unpunished throughout the film. Dev Patel's Deon is your typical eccentric scientist and really doesn't elevate it beyond that. Two of the thugs that unwittingly adopt Chappie are played by South African musicians whose character names share their real-life musical pseudonyms, and yet despite the fact that they have the job of essentially playing themselves, they can't even manage to do that right. One of the characters (a rival thug) has a thick, but still distinguishable, accent, yet for some reason we're given subtitles as if we don't even know basic English.

The script seemingly has no real direction either and doesn't even know what it's about in the grand scheme of things. Is it about slummy lifestyles and how they can influence youth? Is it a movie about blurring the lines between man and machine and the virtues and vices of it? Is it about the stunning advancement of technology and how it can evolve the human race? Is it about death? Is it about being different? Apparently, lumping together any and all half-baked ideas into a single indistinguishable lump is Blomkamp's definition of profound, because he seems content with just introducing themes and going only that far, and it really just makes the film that much more laborious to watch. Where the film ends up heading in the last ten minutes actually could have been really interesting, but it's completely spoiled by a complete asspull that kills any possible catharsis and inadvertently kills a couple of the themes, as ill-developed as they are.

I wanted this movie to be great, but Blomkamp may have managed to catch lightning in a bottle with District 9 and never again. If Elysium, while heavy-handed but original and moderately focused, was too much of an embarrassment for Blomkamp to hold onto, and this is supposed to be his next foot forwards, I'm scared to see how his Alien film is going to fare. It might be the last hope he has at this point.

Final Verdict: