Fans will lap up this slick, empty erotic enterprise
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IT'S not like watching paint dry or anything but for a movie that's meant to float your boat, ring your bell and tease those areas of the brain in charge of sensitive body parts, Fifty Shades Darker is pretty tame stuff - sort of like Twilight for the S&M set.
Sure, it's at least 20 minutes before anyone gets naked, but the sequel to Fifty Shades of Grey (2015) will doubtless measure up in the eyes of the millions who trembled with unbridled emotion at the end of the original - based on the first book in the erotic trilogy by author EL James - knowing that there would be more to come in the tortured (in more ways than one) romance between lovebirds Anastasia Steele (Dakota Johnson) and Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan)
This second instalment, directed by James Foley and written by Niall Leonard (not coincidentally the husband of EL James), picks up a few weeks after the first film ended with Anastasia breaking up with her bondage-loving, pain-inflicting, psychologically-damaged paramour.
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