[They’re already working on the script for a sequel to 50 Shades of Grey. I’m not waiting for the next movie to come out. Here’s my review, and I bet it’s spot on for accuracy.]
50 Shades of Lent explores the relationship between a man-with-a-religious-sounding-name and a woman-who-refuses-to-use-the-brains-God-gave-her.
As the Lenten season approaches, the man talks the woman into signing a contract that gives him total power over her decisions for the next 6 weeks. She soon discovers that when it comes to deciding what to give up for Lent the only thing she’s given up is the ability to decide what to give up for Lent.
The man acts arbitrarily, capriciously and maliciously. One day he tells her she has to give up all dairy, the next she hears that milk is back on the menu but all non-dairy products are anathema.
He subjects her to ridicule by declaring all her outfits must comprise plaids, stripes and polka dots, all at once. She starts to breathe easy when he relents the next day, only to find that now all colors except mauve are off limits for her clothing choices.
Then comes the worst day of all, the day she’s suspected would arrive but dreaded all along: he tells her she’s not to use any words with the letter Y in them. The fiend has found the perfect way to shut down any attempts she might have dared to ask “whY”.
The man is a master manipulator.
Most movie goers would suspect that the filmmakers made a glaring error in calling this 50 Shades of Lent. After all, Lent isn’t fifty days long.
This is where – Oh the humanity! – this is where the script takes its most devious turn: the contract allows him to change what she’s giving up for Lent more than once per day.
The maximum number of restrictions under the contract is fifty, but she doesn’t know when he’ll hit her with the old switcheroo next. Will it affect her diet, her wardrobe, her vocabulary?
This movie will have you on the edge of your seat, waiting for the opportunity to leave the theater without making too much of a disturbance.
You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll kiss ten bucks goodbye.
You’ll laugh at yourself for ever buying a ticket, you’ll cry at the thought of never getting back those 90 minutes of your life, and you’ll kiss … well, you’ll still kiss ten bucks goodbye no matter what.
See you at the movies! (But not that one.)
[You might think that this isn’t how real faith in God is expressed, that no one would subject themselves to the whims of another person when it comes to as important a matter as exercising faith. I think they might.
After all, is it that much of a stretch from allowing another person to manipulate your feelings and dictate what you wear, where you live, what car you drive and how brutally you have sex? That’s not love; that’s a power trip. Just as some people fall prey to people in relationships, others fall prey to those who seek to manipulate them in their faith, another power trip.
Which do you think is worse?]