Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 1

Chapter 1

I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair – it just won’t behave, and damn Katherine Kavanagh for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission. I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at the pale, brown-haired girl with blue eyes too big for her face staring back at me, and give up. My only option is to restrain my wayward hair in a ponytail and hope that I look semi presentable.
Kate is my roommate, and she has chosen today of all days to succumb to the flu. Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she’d arranged to do, with some mega-industrialist tycoon I’ve never heard of, for the student newspaper. So I have been volunteered. I have final exams to cram for, one essay to finish, and I’m supposed to be working this afternoon, but no – today I have to drive a hundred and sixty-five miles to downtown Seattle in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. As an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of our University, his time is extraordinarily precious – much more precious than mine – but he has granted Kate an interview. A real coup, she tells me. Damn her extra-curricular activities.
Kate is huddled on the couch in the living room.
“Ana, I’m sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It will take another six to reschedule, and we’ll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I can’t blow this off. Please,” Kate begs me in her rasping, sore throat voice. How does she do it? Even ill she looks gamine and gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair in place and green eyes bright, although now red-rimmed and runny. I ignore my pang of unwelcome sympathy.
“Of course I’ll go Kate. You should get back to bed. Would you like some Nyquil or Tylenol?”
“Nyquil, please. Here are the questions and my mini-disc recorder. Just press record here. Make notes, I’ll transcribe it all.”
“I know nothing about him,” I murmur, trying and failing to suppress my rising panic.
“The questions will see you through. Go. It’s a long drive. I don’t want you to be late.”
“Okay, I’m going. Get back to bed. I made you some soup to heat up later.” I stare at her fondly. Only for you, Kate, would I do this.
“I will. Good luck. And thanks Ana – as usual, you’re my lifesaver.”
Gathering my satchel, I smile wryly at her, then head out the door to the car. I cannot believe I have let Kate talk me into this. But then Kate can talk anyone into anything. She’ll make an exceptional journalist. She’s articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, beautiful – and she’s my dearest, dearest friend.
The roads are clear as I set off from Vancouver, WA toward Portland and the I-5. It’s early, and I don’t have to be in Seattle until two this afternoon. Fortunately, Kate’s lent me her sporty Mercedes CLK. I’m not sure Wanda, my old VW Beetle, would make the journey in time. Oh, the Merc is a fun drive, and the miles slip away as I floor the pedal to the metal.
My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Grey’s global enterprise. It’s a huge twenty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect’s utilitarian fantasy, with Grey House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors. It’s a quarter to two when I arrive, greatly relieved that I’m not late as I walk into the enormous – and frankly intimidating – glass, steel, and white sandstone lobby.
Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive, groomed, blonde young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She’s wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. She looks immaculate.
“I’m here to see Mr. Grey. Anastasia Steele for Katherine Kavanagh.”
“Excuse me one moment, Miss Steele.” She arches her eyebrow slightly as I stand self-consciously before her. I am beginning to wish I’d borrowed one of Kate’s formal blazers rather than wear my navy blue jacket. I have made an effort and worn my one and only skirt, my sensible brown knee-length boots and a blue sweater. For me, this is smart. I tuck one of the escaped tendrils of my hair behind my ear as I pretend she doesn’t intimidate me.
“Miss Kavanagh is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Steele. You’ll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor.” She smiles kindly at me, amused no doubt, as I sign in.
She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front. I can’t help my smirk. Surely it’s obvious that I’m just visiting. I don’t fit in here at all. Nothing changes, I inwardly sigh. Thanking her, I walk over to the bank of elevators past
the two security men who are both far more smartly dressed than I am in their well-cut black suits.
The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. The doors slide open, and I’m in another large lobby – again all glass, steel, and white sandstone. I’m confronted by another desk of sandstone and another young blonde woman dressed impeccably in black and white who rises to greet me.
“Miss Steele, could you wait here, please?” She points to a seated area of white leather chairs.
Behind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seattle skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. It’s a stunning vista, and I’m momentarily paralyzed by the view. Wow.
I sit down, fish the questions from my satchel, and go through them, inwardly cursing Kate for not providing me with a brief biography. I know nothing about this man I’m about to interview. He could be ninety or he could be thirty. The uncertainty is galling, and my nerves resurface, making me fidget. I’ve never been comfortable with one-on-one interviews, preferring the anonymity of a group discussion where I can sit inconspicuously at the back of the room. To be honest, I prefer my own company, reading a classic British novel, curled up in a chair in the campus library. Not sitting twitching nervously in a colossal glass and stone edifice.
I roll my eyes at myself. Get a grip, Steele. Judging from the building, which is too clinical and modern, I guess Grey is in his forties: fit, tanned, and fair-haired to match the rest of the personnel.
Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blonde comes out of a large door to the right. What is it with all the immaculate blondes? It’s like Stepford here. Taking a deep breath, I stand up.
“Miss Steele?” the latest blonde asks.
“Yes,” I croak, and clear my throat. “Yes.” There, that sounded more confident.
“Mr. Grey will see you in a moment. May I take your jacket?”
“Oh please.” I struggle out of the jacket.
“Have you been offered any refreshment?”
“Um – no.” Oh dear, is Blonde Number One in trouble?
Blonde Number Two frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk.
“Would you like tea, coffee, water?” she asks, turning her attention back to me.
“A glass of water. Thank you,” I murmur.
“Olivia, please fetch Miss Steele a glass of water.” Her voice is stern. Olivia scoots up immediately and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer.
“My apologies, Miss Steele, Olivia is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Grey will be another five minutes.”
Olivia returns with a glass of iced water.
“Here you go, Miss Steele.”
“Thank you.”
Blonde Number Two marches over to the large desk, her heels clicking and echoing on the sandstone floor. She sits down, and they both continue their work.
Perhaps Mr. Grey insists on all his employees being blonde. I’m wondering idly if that’s legal, when the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dressed, attractive African-American man with short dreads exits. I have definitely worn the wrong clothes.
He turns and says through the door. “Golf, this week, Grey.”
I don’t hear the reply. He turns, sees me, and smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Olivia has jumped up and called the elevator. She seems to excel at jumping from her seat. She’s more nervous than me!
“Good afternoon ladies,” he says as he departs through the sliding door.
“Mr. Grey will see you now, Miss Steele. Do go through,” Blonde Number Two says. I stand rather shakily trying to suppress my nerves. Gathering up my satchel, I abandon my glass of water and make my way to the partially open door.
“You don’t need to knock – just go in.” She smiles kindly.
I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over my own feet, and falling head first into the office.
Double crap – me and my two left feet! I am on my hands and knees in the doorway to Mr. Grey’s office, and gentle hands are around me helping me to stand. I am so embarrassed, damn my clumsiness. I have to steel myself to glance up. Holy cow – he’s so young.
“Miss Kavanagh.” He extends a long-fingered hand to me once I’m upright. “I’m Christian Grey. Are you all right? Would you like to sit?”
So young – and attractive, very attractive. He’s tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with unruly dark copper colored hair and intense, bright gray eyes that regard me shrewdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice.
“Um. Actually–” I mutter. If this guy is over thirty then I’m a monkey’s uncle. In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed. Must be static. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate.
“Miss Kavanagh is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Grey.”
“And you are?” His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it’s difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He looks mildly interested, but above all, polite.
“Anastasia Steele. I’m studying English Literature with Kate, um… Katherine… um… Miss Kavanagh at Washington State.”
“I see,” he says simply. I think I see the ghost of a smile in his expression, but I’m not sure.
“Would you like to sit?” He waves me toward a white leather buttoned L-shaped couch.
His office is way too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there’s a huge modern dark-wood desk that six people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. Everything else is white – ceiling, floors, and walls except, on the wall by the door, where a mosaic of small paintings hang, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite – a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking.
“A local artist. Trouton,” says Grey when he catches my gaze.
“They’re lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary,” I murmur, distracted both by him and the paintings. He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently.
“I couldn’t agree more, Miss Steele,” he replies, his voice soft and for some inexplicable reason I find myself blushing.
Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean, and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the personality of the Adonis who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite me. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts, and retrieve Kate’s questions from my satchel. Next, I set up the mini-disc recorder and am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it twice on the coffee table in front of me. Mr. Grey says nothing, waiting patiently – I hope – as I become increasingly embarrassed and flustered. When I pluck up the courage to look at him, he’s watching me, one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he’s trying to suppress a smile.
“Sorry,” I stutter. “I’m not used to this.”
“Take all the time you need, Miss Steele,” he says.
“Do you mind if I record your answers?”
“After you’ve taken so much trouble to set up the recorder – you ask me now?”
I flush. He’s teasing me? I hope. I blink at him, unsure what to say, and I think he takes pity on me because he relents. “No, I don’t mind.”
“Did Kate, I mean, Miss Kavanagh, explain what the interview was for?”
“Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year’s graduation ceremony.”
Oh! This is news to me, and I’m temporarily pre-occupied by the thought that someone not much older than me – okay, maybe six years or so, and okay, mega successful, but still – is going to present me with my degree. I frown, dragging my wayward attention back to the task at hand.
“Good,” I swallow nervously. “I have some questions, Mr. Grey.” I smooth a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“I thought you might,” he says, deadpan. He’s laughing at me. My cheeks heat at the realization, and I sit up and square my shoulders in an attempt to look taller and more intimidating. Pressing the start button on the recorder, I try to look professional.
“You’re very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?” I glance up at him. His smile is rueful, but he looks vaguely disappointed.
“Business is all about people, Miss Steele, and I’m very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn’t, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well.” He pauses and fixes me with his gray stare. “My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is, it’s always down to good people.”
“Maybe you’re just lucky.” This isn’t on Kate’s list – but he’s so arrogant. His eyes flare momentarily in surprise.
“I don’t subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Steele. The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing their
energies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said ‘the growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.’”
“You sound like a control freak.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss Steele,” he says without a trace of humor in his smile. I look at him, and he holds my gaze steadily, impassive. My heartbeat quickens, and my face flushes again.
Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His overwhelming good-looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he’d stop doing that.
“Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things,” he continues, his voice soft.
“Do you feel that you have immense power?” Control Freak.
“I employ over forty thousand people, Miss Steele. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility – power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell up, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so.”
My mouth drops open. I am staggered by his lack of humility.
“Don’t you have a board to answer to?” I ask, disgusted.
“I own my company. I don’t have to answer to a board.” He raises an eyebrow at me. I flush. Of course, I would know this if I had done some research. But holy crap, he’s so arrogant. I change tack.
“And do you have any interests outside your work?”
“I have varied interests, Miss Steele.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Very varied.” And for some reason, I’m confounded and heated by his steady gaze. His eyes are alight with some wicked thought.
“But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?”
“Chill out?” He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. I stop breathing. He really is beautiful. No one should be this good-looking.
“Well, to ‘chill out’ as you put it – I sail, I fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits.” He shifts in his chair. “I’m a very wealthy man, Miss Steele, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies.”
I glance quickly at Kate’s questions, wanting to get off this subject.
“You invest in manufacturing. Why, specifically?” I ask. Why does he make me so uncomfortable?
“I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?”
“That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts.”
His mouth quirks up, and he stares appraisingly at me.
“Possibly. Though there are people who’d say I don’t have a heart.”
“Why would they say that?”
“Because they know me well.” His lip curls in a wry smile.
“Would your friends say you’re easy to get to know?” And I regret the question as soon as I say it. It’s not on Kate’s list.
“I’m a very private person, Miss Steele. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don’t often give interviews,” he trails off.
“Why did you agree to do this one?”
“Because I’m a benefactor of the University, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn’t get Miss Kavanagh off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire that kind of tenacity.”
I know how tenacious Kate can be. That’s why I’m sitting here squirming uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, when I should be studying for my exams.
“You also invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?”
“We can’t eat money, Miss Steele, and there are too many people on this planet who don’t have enough to eat.”
“That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world’s poor?”
He shrugs, very non-committal.
“It’s shrewd business,” he murmurs, though I think he’s being disingenuous. It doesn’t make sense – feeding the world’s poor? I can’t see the financial benefits of this, only the virtue of the ideal. I glance at the next question, confused by his attitude.
“Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?”
“I don’t have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle – Carnegie’s: ‘A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.’ I’m very singular, driven. I like control – of myself and those around me.”
“So you want to possess things?” You are a control freak.
“I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do.”
“You sound like the ultimate consumer.”
“I am.” He smiles, but the smile doesn’t touch his eyes. Again this is at odds with someone who wants to feed the world, so I can’t help thinking that we’re talking about something else, but I’m absolutely mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard. The temperature in the room is rising or maybe it’s just me. I just want this interview to be over. Surely Kate has enough material now? I glance at the next question.
“You were adopted. How far do you think that’s shaped the way you are?” Oh, this is personal. I stare at him, hoping he’s not offended. His brow furrows.
“I have no way of knowing.”
My interest is piqued.
“How old were you when you were adopted?”
“That’s a matter of public record, Miss Steele.” His tone is stern. I flush, again. Crap. Yes of course – if I’d known I was doing this interview, I would have done some research. I move on quickly.
“You’ve had to sacrifice a family life for your work.”
“That’s not a question.” He’s terse.
“Sorry.” I squirm, and he’s made me feel like an errant child. I try again. “Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?”
“I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I’m not interested in extending my family beyond that.”
“Are you gay, Mr. Grey?”
He inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. Crap. Why didn’t I employ some kind of filter before I read this straight out? How can I tell him I’m just reading the questions? Damn Kate and her curiosity!
“No Anastasia, I’m not.” He raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes. He does not look pleased.
“I apologize. It’s um… written here.” It’s the first time he’s said my name. My heartbeat has accelerated, and my cheeks are heating up again. Nervously, I tuck my loosened hair behind my ear.
He cocks his head to one side.
“These aren’t your own questions?”
The blood drains from my head. Oh no.
“Err… no. Kate – Miss Kavanagh – she compiled the questions.”
“Are you colleagues on the student paper?” Oh crap. I have nothing to do with the student paper. It’s her extra-curricular activity, not mine. My face is aflame.
“No. She’s my roommate.”
He rubs his chin in quiet deliberation, his gray eyes appraising me.
“Did you volunteer to do this interview?” he asks, his voice deadly quiet.
Hang on, who’s supposed to be interviewing whom? His eyes burn into me, and I’m compelled to answer with the truth.
“I was drafted. She’s not well.” My voice is weak and apologetic.
“That explains a great deal.”
There’s a knock at the door, and Blonde Number Two enters.
“Mr. Grey, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes.”
“We’re not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting.”
Andrea hesitates, gaping at him. She’s appears lost. He turns his head slowly to face her and raises his eyebrows. She flushes bright pink. Oh good. It’s not just me.
“Very well, Mr. Grey,” she mutters, then exits. He frowns, and turns his attention back to me.
“Where were we, Miss Steele?”
Oh, we’re back to ‘Miss Steele’ now.
“Please don’t let me keep you from anything.”
“I want to know about you. I think that’s only fair.” His gray eyes are alight with curiosity. Double crap. Where’s he going with this? He places his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very… distracting. I swallow.
“There’s not much to know,” I say, flushing again.
“What are your plans after you graduate?”
I shrug, thrown by his interest. Come to Seattle with Kate, find a place, find a job. I haven’t really thought beyond my finals.
“I haven’t made any plans, Mr. Grey. I just need to get through my final exams.” Which I should be studying for now rather than sitting in your palatial, swanky, sterile office, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze.
“We run an excellent internship program here,” he says quietly. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is he offering me a job?
“Oh. I’ll bear that in mind,” I murmur, completely confounded. “Though I’m not sure I’d fit in here.” Oh no. I’m musing out loud again.
“Why do you say that?” He cocks his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” I’m uncoordinated, scruffy, and I’m not blonde.
“Not to me,” he murmurs. His gaze is intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles deep in my belly clench suddenly. I tear my eyes away from his scrutiny and stare blindly down at my knotted fingers. What’s going on? I have to go – now. I lean forward to retrieve the recorder.
“Would you like me to show you around?” he asks.
“I’m sure you’re far too busy, Mr. Grey, and I do have a long drive.”
“You’re driving back to WSU in Vancouver?” He sounds surprised, anxious even. He glances out of the window. It’s begun to rain. “Well, you’d better drive carefully.” His tone is stern, authoritative. Why should he care? “Did you get everything you need?” he adds.
“Yes sir,” I reply, packing the recorder into my satchel. His eyes narrow, speculatively.
“Thank you for the interview, Mr. Grey.”
“The pleasure’s been all mine,” he says, polite as ever.
As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand.
“Until we meet again, Miss Steele.” And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I’m not sure which. I frown. When will we ever meet again? I shake his hand once more, astounded that that odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves.
“Mr. Grey.” I nod at him. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the door, he opens it wide.
“Just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss Steele.” He gives me a small smile. Obviously, he’s referring to my earlier less-than-elegant entry into his office. I flush.
“That’s very considerate, Mr. Grey,” I snap, and his smile widens. I’m glad you find me entertaining, I glower inwardly, walking into the foyer. I’m surprised when he follows me out. Andrea and Olivia both look up, equally surprised.
“Did you have a coat?” Grey asks.
“Yes.” Olivia leaps up and retrieves my jacket, which Grey takes from her before she can hand it to me. He holds it up and, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, I shrug it on. Grey places his hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If he notices my reaction, he gives nothing away. His long index finger presses the button summoning the elevator, and we stand waiting – awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on his. The doors open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here. When I turn to look at him, he’s leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It’s distracting. His burning gray eyes gaze at me.
“Anastasia,” he says as a farewell.
“Christian,” I reply. And mercifully, the doors close.

Fifty Shades of Grey: 'Oh my, it's good'

Sam Taylor-Johnson's film of the EL James S&M bestseller isn't nearly as painful as it could have been

Except for the new instalment of Star Wars, there is no more steamily anticipated film this year than Fifty Shades of Grey. Advance ticket sales, boosted by its Valentine’s Day release, have been record-breaking.
In book form, the “erotic trilogy” of British author EL James has sold over 100m copies worldwide. And the producers’ casting hunt for actors to play starry-eyed ingénue Anastasia Steele and her bondage-obsessed new paramour, the endlessly mysterious billionaire Christian Grey, has been a magnet for more tabloid speculation than typically greets a royal birth.
Not bad for a book that started out as Twilight fan-fiction, and whose prose style might charitably be described as unspeakable. The challenge for Sam Taylor-Johnson, the Turner Prize-nominated fine art photographer who directed 2009’s John Lennon biopic Nowhere Boy, was to please the books’ legion of (predominantly female) fans without allowing the film to become a soft-pornographic laughing stock.
Cinema, one would hope, has certain advantages over literary inner monologue such as this: “My heartbeat has picked up, and my medulla oblongata has neglected to fire any synapses to make me breathe,” which Ana declares in one of the early chapters, as Christian announces he’s having a shower. If she described her digestive processes in such prissily scientific detail, we’d be here all day.
Dakota Johnson, daughter of actors Don Johnson and Melanie Griffith, has screenwriter Kelly Marcel to thank that the film adaptation eliminates this bubblehead stream of consciousness, allowing the camera instead to occupy Ana’s point of view. It’s usually a view of Jamie Dornan, the Northern Irish actor best-known for playing a hot serial killer in BBC Two’s The Fall, who was a late replacement after the original choice, Charlie Hunnam, got cold feet.
The lack of a customary press conference in Berlin, where the film held its world premiere, has fuelled speculation that the two stars can barely stand each other’s company. Neither has been at pains to dispel these rumours, and Taylor-Johnson has openly talked about her on-set battle with James to defend every decision even minutely diverging from the book.

The film's biggest single asset is Dakota Johnson: gone is the book's blithering simpleton

So how has it all worked out? Almost shockingly well, considering. It proves that age-old saw that great books rarely make great films, whereas barely-literate junk can turn into something ripe and even electric on screen. The lead performances and sleek style choices sell it almost irresistibly to the target audience, but the film has the confidence to end bruisingly unresolved, with the structural equivalent of a slap in the face.
Meanwhile, for anyone who struggled to wade through the gruelling mire of James's verbiage, it's almost a form of revenge to watch the filmmaking slice through it, cleanly stripping off the fat. Great art it's not – but it's frisky, in charge of itself, and about as keenly felt a vision of this S&M power game we could realistically have expected to see.
The film’s single biggest asset is Johnson, who has worked hard with Marcel and Taylor-Johnson to perform a three-woman salvage job on the character of Anastasia. Gone is the book’s blithering simpleton, with her arsenal of “holy hell”s and “double crap"s and “oh my"s. Her inner goddess is, thank goodness, nowhere to be found or heard. She is at no point a quivering, moist mess, and doesn’t make the ruinous error of thinking the word “f___” is an epithet.
Instead, she projects an instantly compelling blend of vulnerability and spiky resistance – qualities that sometimes remind you of Griffith in her early roles. There’s more fight in this Ana than you’re ever expecting, and it raises the stakes during each stage of her seduction by Christian, from the moment she meets his eyes during an interview for her college paper.
Grey, for obvious reasons, is much more vividly described in the book than she is. Dornan, with his tousled hair and chunky build, is a precise physical match for this ludicrous fantasy-hottie-Bluebeard role, and somehow manages to render it only intermittently absurd. A good kind of absurd.
On purpose, he’s a little inexpressive at first: cold slate, with questioning eyes. The film doesn’t ever get totally under his skin and doesn’t want to – it needs to recoil, with a shiver of uncertainty, as we get to grips with his predilections.
The sex scenes clamber up the scale in intensity, without ever really threatening to get white-hot, and feature a lot more of Johnson than they do of Dornan. You could say she’s submissive to the point of baring all, from most angles, whereas he’s dominant enough to keep the camera from straying down where he doesn’t want it. Even when Grey, with his riding crops and cat-o’-nine-tails and Red Room of Pain, would claim otherwise, these sequences stay well within the bounds of vanilla mainstream taste.
And they offer an easy answer to the following question. Would you rather read an assortment of appallingly organised words describing two stick-thin characters yelping on the page, or watch two very attractive young stars going at it, in images filmed by Seamus McGarvey? This great cinematographer – he also shot The Hours, We Need to Talk About Kevin and Godzilla – is a ready-made cornerstone for the flatly indisputable argument that Fifty Shades is a far better film than it was a book.
Anastasia is no walkover here and sometimes gives as good as she gets, if not better. The funniest scene – debatably the sexiest, too – has the duo sitting at either end of a glass boardroom table, while Ana whips through the contract for their experimental relationship scratching out everything she won’t consent to. The script isn’t afraid to call a spade a spade here: “Find anal fisting. Strike it out.”
Johnson’s timing and verve are terrific, and manage to upend the more distasteful indignities of the book in gold-spun-from-straw ways. It’s her rebellion, not just her submission, that this version of Christian finds attractive, which gives Dornan something more interesting, human, and contradictory to play as well. If Taylor-Johnson and James bitterly tussled for control over this material, it's a relief and even a bit of a thrill that the director came out on top.

Fifty Shades Stars Dakota Johnson, Jamie Dornan to Seek Seven-Figure Raises for Sequel

This story first appeared in the March 20 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine.
With Fifty Shades of Grey looking to top out at more than $550 million worldwide, it should come as no surprise that stars Dakota Johnson and Jamie Dornan will be seeking a big payday for a second outing in the red room of pain.


Sources say the pair received $250,000 each (plus tiered box-office bonuses) to star in Universal's erotic hit based on the first of EL James' trilogy of novels, and both signed three-picture deals. But like most stars of franchise films, they will try to renegotiate for seven-figure raises for Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed. Neither Johnson, 25, nor Dornan, 32, received any backend compensation on the first film, according to sources.
Though the two leads probably are six months away from any renegotiations, insiders say they'll take a page from the Twilight stars and Jennifer Lawrence's Hunger Games deal as a jumping-off point (Lawrence landed a $10 million payday for Catching Fire — a significant bump from her $500,000 Hunger Games salary).
"It was a very basic franchise starter deal," says an insider of the terms of Johnson's and Dornan's contracts. "Look at Twilight and Hunger Games, and that's where it is heading."

Christian Grey Reportedly Won’t Be Played By Anyone But Jamie Dornan

Christian Grey has become a household name since the Fifty Shades Of Grey series was released, and now that the books have been adapted for the silver screen, that name is being thrown about more than ever. Before the film’s stars were cast, Sons Of Anarchy star Charlie Hunnam was poised to take the role of domineering businessman Grey, but he eventually dropped out due to scheduling conflicts, and while some fans of the book were wary of Jamie Dornan when he nabbed the role, he has proven himself practically made for it. The movie has garnered astronomical box office numbers since its Valentine’s Day release, and now the question on everyone’s mind is whether Dornan will come back for a potential sequel.
Although a second film hasn’t been officially announced, Dornan’s reps told Us Weekly that he would be more than happy to step back into Christian Grey’s highly-polished shoes.
“Jamie is delighted that the film is breaking box office records worldwide and whilst the studio has not made any formal announcements about sequels, he is looking forward to making the next film,” his rep said in a statement.
Dornan said in a recent Details interview that he was scared of how loyal fans of the books might react once the film came out, noting that sometimes superfans are very involved when a film adaptation is made.
“I almost don’t want to put this out there into the ether, but I fear I’ll get murdered, like John Lennon, by one of those mad fans at the premiere. Because a lot of people are very angry that I’m playing this character. And I’m a father now, and a husband. I don’t want to die yet,” he said.

Though the books–and subsequently, the film–are well known for racy subject matter, some viewers think there’s a lot more to the story than kinky sex. As one reviewer wrote, Christian Grey is a man who was sexually abused as a child and, therefore, is looking for fulfillment as an adult while simultaneously pushing intimacy away.
“Fifty Shades of Grey is not a movie about kinky sex. There is hardly anything sexual about the movie. It is about the abuse of power, and its tragic aftermath. It is about a wealthy, handsome young man at the peak of his manhood being incapable of developing a meaningful relationship with a young woman who tries everything (including becoming somewhat of a sex slave) to get to his soul,”

Fifty Shades of Grey Movie Review

I don't want to spoil a lot, so ill just give ratings with a brief description on certain elements of this so-called "film".

Acting; 1/10. The acting was misplaced, awkward.. not to look at. At least convince us you're an intense guy, Mr. Grey.

Plot: 1/10. that wasn't a plot for a normal movie, it was a plot for soft-core porn.. which had as terrible acting in it as real porn.

Camera work/scenery/etc. 7/10 for what it is.. great camera work i guess and good scenery

Romance; 2/10. I've seen the notebook... that's romance. This is a poor attempt to romance. It tries to tell you they're madly in love, but it's just a weird sexual relationship.

Drama: 1/10. there is no thrill.. no intense things going on. There is no drama in this soft-core-erotic-drama.

"The deeds" 10/10.. they did it. so.. can't give it any lower points than this.

Overall, it's was horrible acted, plot-less, non-romantic nor drama movie about a girl being horny and the guy doing an attempt of BDSM, which comes down to.. soft-core.. almost nothing different than normal sex with bondage.

We made a classy movie': Jamie Dornan arrives in Berlin as he hits back at criticism over lack of sex in Fifty Shades Of Grey

Despite reviews complaining of a lack of realistic sex in Fifty Shades Of Grey, Jamie Dornan has said he thinks they made a 'classy movie'.

The actor spoke to Stylist magazine about the highly-anticipated film based on E.L. James' best-selling 'mummy porn' novel, in which he plays the S&M loving businessman Christian Grey.

I think we’ve made a classy movie,' Jamie, 32, explains.

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Promotional tour: Jamie Dornan landed at Tegel airport in Berlin, Germany on Wednesday, wearing a casual jacket and green beanie hat

'Sam [Taylor-Johnson] provides a massive element of sophistication to the project.'

The biggest criticism of the film so far has been that there is a lack of nudity as well as realistic scenes of the throes of sadomasochistic passion.

Writing in USA Today, critic Claudia Puig said bluntly: 'Those looking for hot, kinky sex will be disappointed. Fewer than 15 of the movie's 125 minutes feature sex scenes.

'Discussion of contracts and objections over line items outweigh erotica. Even the graphic nudity grows numbing.'

Keeping a low profile: The Fall actor tried to go incognito as he walked through the airport but was mobbed by a crowd of eager fans

On Wednesday morning Jamie touched down at Tegel airport in Berlin, Germany, ahead of the Berlinale premiere of the film.

The former Calvin Klein model wrapped up against the cold in a padded jacket and jeans as he arrived in the chilly city. 

The bearded hunk completed his look with a khaki beanie and a pair of suede boots.

Jamie has been hot on the promotional trail for the racy Sam Taylor-Johnson directed movie, which is scheduled for release just before Valentine's Day on February 13.

The Fall star has been forced to adjust to the heightened fame the high-profile role has afforded him in recent months.

Jamie's outing comes just after he admitted he's wracked with insecurities when it comes to his body. 

Insecure: Jamie , pictured above as Christian Grey in the upcoming Fifty Shades movie, admits he suffers from 'major hang-ups' when it comes to his body

Despite boasting a ripped torso and matinee idol looks, the Northern Irish hunk reveals he still sees himself as the 'skinny kid' of his youth.

Speaking to the Irish Independent, he confessed: 'I think I am like anyone, I have massive hang-ups about my physical appearance.

'I was always fighting against stuff when I was a kid. I always felt skinny and small. Now, I'm 32... I have the same insecurities when I was a kid and when I see an image of myself, all I see is this skinny kid and I don't like it.

Jamie on the cover of DT Downtown Magazine (Spain - February 2015) - New Pictures + New Interview

 

Interview

 

What do you think about the book?

The first time I knew they were going to do this movie I didn't think I could be a part of it. But I thought this could be a good oportunity so I recorded a video in London with a scene of another movie and I sent it. When I finally read the book, I thought I could play this guy.

What do you think Dakota brings to Ana’s character? 

I didn’t know her before filming this movie, but the first time I saw her I noticed it. She is young and she has a vulnerability that is very credible, but also she is very strong and that makes her interpretation to be very realistic. At the same time, she is very funny so she is perfect for this role. There is a lot of humor in the books/film.

What was your greatest concern when playing this character? 

I think that it was the fact that I only have one month to prepare myself before starting shooting the movie. That’s not enough to play the leading role of this type of huge film.

 This should be a great challenge for the actor… 

Yes, because he has a very complex character with so many different sides. And also, you should add his specific physical appearance and the way he keeps fit.

What was your reaction when you knew you were going to be Christian Grey? 

I remember I was very tired. I just came back home from LA. My wife was sleeping upstairs but I was awake because I knew they were going to call me that night -I didn't know the hour-. Later, Sam called me and I found it really amazing.

What can you say about Sam Taylor Johnson? 

She is wonderful, she has became a very close friend to my wife and me. She has a very good quality that makes her an amazing director: she has the ability to create a comfortable atmosphere when filming “intense” scenes.

How do you handle the pressure to bring these famous books to the big screen? 

As there are millions of people who have read them, you feel that you’re working with a lot of different opinions. It’s difficult to not feel anxious and bring this feeling to the set. But Sam has the ability to make you forget everything and concentrate yourself in what is coming, doing the best we could do. I will be lying if I say I didn’t feel that pressure but at the same time I found it liberating.

Liberating? 

When we read a book, we have our own idea about how the characters are. 100 millions of people have read these books and it’s impossible to satisfy every single Christian Grey fan. I only tried to focus on doing the best I could.

Do you see yourself in him? 

You always have to find something in common with the character you’re playing. Sometimes you have —or you know someone with- a similar experience… That is very difficult with Christian Grey because I don't know anyone like him. However, we both have suffered the loss of a loved  one.

Do you see him as a villain? 

 I see him as a social misunderstood person that exerts himself to fit into society because of the kind of lives he wishes to lead.

One of the most important characters in the book is Christian’s adoptive mother, played by Marcia Gay Harden. 

Yes, because she has only shown him love. Compared to his early age, she has given him a stable foundation for his life. Marcia is an incredible actress, I’m her fan. It’s amazing to work with her. She is very normal and doesn’t take things seriously but at the same time she knows how to get ready when starting shooting a scene.

What can you say about Luke Grimes and Rita Ora, “the Grey’s brothers”? 

Luke is brilliant playing the role of a brother that has a relaxed attitude and enjoys having fun. Rita is also very funny. I think people will like them.

How was the experience of shooting in Vancouver? 

 It’s my third job there so I’ve just spent one year of my life in Vancouver. It’s a great place that I know very well. Definitely, I’d like to work there again because the food is really good. 

Jamie On The Cover of Shortlist Magazine (November 2014) - Interview + Pictures

Jamie On The Cover of Shortlist Magazine (November 2014) - Interview + Pictures 

 

From serial killers to Christian Grey, Jamie Dornan isn’t afraid to plumb the depths of male depravity. ShortList meets a normal bloke with a taste for the dark stuff

The most terrifying man on television is having a quick blast of his asthma pump. “Just when you thought he couldn’t get any cooler,” says Jamie Dornan with a smile, padding his way from the dressing room through to the studio for today’s photoshoot. Putting aside the incongruity of this image for a second, Dornan is a man who – at the moment at least – you wouldn’t begrudge a spot of anxious breathlessness.

In less than 18 months he’s gone from a model and occasional actor mostly known for a series of monster Calvin Klein billboards – you know the ones: Eva Mendes, tiny briefs, liberal dousing of Crisp ’n Dry – to one of the most dropped names in Hollywood’s juice bars of power. He’s been nominated for a Bafta, appeared in acclaimed TV dramas and, the week we speak, he’ll finish work on a new Bradley Cooper comedy. He is very much on the brink. And so, of course, he’s utterly knackered.

“It’s been a fun couple of years, but I’m due a break,” he says sleepily, when we eventually sit down for a chat. “I've got the next few weeks off and, mate, I’m going to enjoy that.” He’ll need to. The show that made his acting career will soon return, bringing more opportunities, far-flung film sets, awards show appearances.

And that’s before we even touch on his biggest role to date – a gigantic, ballsy career gamble that could yet torpedo the whole enterprise and see him surrender his relative anonymity for a life dodging paparazzi lenses, as well as fans looking to get spanking paddles autographed.

So, yeah. He may want to keep that inhaler close at hand.
Falling upwards

The neat version of the Jamie Dornan story presents him as something of an overnight success, striding from the world of modelling straight into the role of a lifetime. Of course, the truth is it wasn't anywhere near that easy. Having acted since he was a schoolkid in Northern Ireland, Dornan’s two careers ran in tandem for a while, and his first major role came in 2006, playing a bewigged hunk in Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette.

In the years that followed that breakthrough he fitfully attempted to bulk up his IMDb entry but, looking back at his wayward mid-twenties as a very settled 32-year-old, he admits his heart may not have been truly in it. There were disastrous auditions (“I once attempted a Geordie accent, having never practised it,” he says in his decidedly Belfast burr. “I had to just walk out”), and few breakthroughs.

His big chance would come, surprisingly enough, not as a square-jawed hero, but as a cold-eyed villain. Allan Cubitt, the crime drama auteur behind Prime Suspect 2, had a vision for a murder investigation thriller where, for a change, the serial killer wasn't the drooling loner in the overalls, but the good-looking family man and grief counsellor no one would suspect. Throw in an icily efficient detective-out-of-water, a grubby smear of Belfast police corruption, bubbling sexual politics, terrifyingly plausible home invasion scenes (plus the residual joy of spotting local Game Of Thrones actors in modern dress) and you had The Fall – one of the most electrifying, and audacious, new TV show concepts in recent years.

But without actors a concept is just that. And Dornan – twitchy and terrifying, pathetic and relatable – was a revelation as Paul Spector, the ladykiller who looks like, well, a ladykiller. And Gillian Anderson, on the trail of Spector as Stella Gibson (AKA Sarah Lund in a silk blouse), provided the perfect steely counterpoint to his convincing sadism. So did he always know he could be so creepy?

“I’m trying to think back to bad dates I’ve been on and what my feedback was,” he says with a laugh. “Was it ever, ‘He was creepy and I feared for my life?’ Obviously, I’m nothing like [Spector], but I think I’ve surprised even myself with the darkness that’s there.”
Murder inc

He did his homework, too, studying outwardly ‘normal’ real-life murderers such as Ted Bundy to a troubling degree. “I’m still carrying some aspects of it with me,” he says. “It always takes me a while, and it affects me. I’ve read a lot of horrific stuff.” How did he cope with having to go to those dark places on a daily basis?

“I didn’t find it healthy to occupy that headspace at all times,” he admits. “Also, I have quite a lot of energy and find it hard to sit still, but I’d made a choice with Spector that he is very still. So between takes I had to f*cking run in circles, run around corridors, scream constantly. It was probably really irritating, because I was going a bit mental.”

This primal off-camera approach clearly worked. The Fall was recommissioned for a second series – having ended on an agonising cliffhanger – amid reports that the show’s makers had filmed two different endings to hedge their bets. Dornan is quick to dismiss those rumours. “As if the BBC would fork out all that money for an alternative ending,” he chuckles. “It was a lie. I think certain people were disappointed with the ending, but the thing was, Allan went to the BBC and said he wanted 12 episodes, and they said, ‘We’ll give you five.’ Allan, who’s almost too intelligent for his own good, always knew that if the first five were received well, we’d get the chance to finish it off. Or keep it going.”

Grumbles aside, that final episode afforded an opportunity – albeit via a slightly hokey villain vs hero phone conversation – for the two leads to actually have a proper scene together. And, while the upcoming second series finds Spector on the run after a botched kill, Dornan hints that this may not stand in the way of more scenes with the “incredibly talented, but surprisingly daft and childish” Anderson.

“When I got the breakdown for the second series, I was shaking,” he says, choosing his words carefully in an attempt to not blow the plentiful surprises. “The scale of it has grown, there are twists and turns and there are moments [with Gillian] which I can’t say too much about. What’s fascinating about these guys, like Ted Bundy, is they feel they’re on a different level and can’t be harmed. Their arrogance is phenomenal.

“And that’s why it’s so interesting when you see Spector slip up. Cracks start to appear and Stella gets a bit of a foot in. That’s what makes it great television, and it’s probably explored slightly more in the second series. It’s what I love most about him. Obviously what he’s doing is horrific – pure evil – but we get to see a human, relatable side to him at work and with his family, which makes it more chilling to watch. You are literally thinking that it could be your next-door neighbour. And I’ve had people say, ‘He’s a sick bastard, but I kind of wanted him to get away with it.’”
Grey matter
It’s here that we come to one of the stranger aspects of The Fall kicking off a spate of Dornan-mania. Despite his stubbly good looks, you’d think playing a twisted killer who preys on innocent single women would hurt his dream boat status. Not a bit of it.

In fact, a brunette friend of mine, tongue only slightly in cheek, once proudly trilled about being “his type”. Has he found that playing a psychopath has, bafflingly, only increased his admirers? “It’s mad, but I don’t know if it’s about aesthetics,” he says, looking slightly embarrassed. “I think it’s just very clever writing, based on the layers he’s got and the moments we see in his personal life.”

Dornan may feel understandable discomfort around Spector’s standing as a hugely unlikely sex symbol, but he’ll soon be seen depicting a more conventional, if similarily warped, lust object. Late last year, after Charlie Hunnam abruptly left the role, Dornan was offered the chance to play Christian Grey in the film adaptation of EL James’s arse-spanking juggernaut Fifty Shades Of Grey. He had lost out to Hunnam initially but, with cameras due to roll, he was hauled from the set of Channel 4 drama New Worlds for meetings in LA, and offered a second chance at the horndog with the helicopter.

“Usually with those things people say ‘Take your time’, but I didn’t really have a huge amount of time,” he laughs. “So you just call on the people that represent you and the people you love and collectively make a decision.” That mention of “people he loves” nods to the fact that his wife, musician and actor Amelia Warner, was heavily pregnant with their first child at the time, and probably not keen on uprooting to Vancouver so her husband could roll around on camera with Dakota Johnson. How did he package that one?

“Well, my wife is a brilliant, hugely understanding person,” he says. “Plus, she was an actress for 10 years, so she’s aware of what it’s like. A lot of people would have had a sh*t fit at 30-something weeks pregnant, hearing, ‘Darling, we’re going to Vancouver this week for four months – we’re going to have a Canadian baby and I’m going to do a film where, for parts of it, I will be naked.’ That’s a tough pitch, but my wife is an incredible person.”
S&M school

For his part, despite the last-minute nature of his casting, Dornan threw himself into it as best he could. He read the book and, off his own back, employed the services of an S&M expert to show him the ropes (knots, chains, handcuffs).

“It’s such a big part of the character that I wanted to know what I was doing,” he says with a smirk. “This guy came along with his submissive, I sat in the corner with a beer and watched. My driver was on the other side of the door, God knows what he thought.”

And here we’re back to the gamble of leaping from a small critical hit to one of the strangest blockbusters (Mills & Boon with ballgags, The Notebook with nipple clamps) in recent memory.

I remind Dornan that the Fifty Shades trailer is the most watched of 2014, and he suddenly looks quite pained, perhaps reminded of its looming hugeness. What’s more, you sense some critics are already lacing up their jackboots for it (months after our interview, Dornan returns to Vancouver for reshoots, as the internet burbles with talk of disappointing test footage and absent chemistry between Dornan and Johnson).

Dornan, it’s clear, has no regrets (“I’d have been mad not to do it,” he reasons) and is already looking to the future. There’s that Bradley Cooper film (a comedy in the world of elite chefs) and he keeps dropping hints about his role in The Fall, implausibly perhaps, having a life beyond this series (“If people want something, you want to give them it”), but more than that he wants to play golf, hang out with his daughter, see his wife.

In fact, Warner is on her way to meet him now, leaving me time for just one more question. I blurt something about the increasing pressure on leading men to be absurdly ripped. Has he found it hard? Training, avoiding carbs, pints and other vices? “Erm, I haven’t given up anything,” he says. “My only vice is crisps, but I can get away with that. I’ve never really found myself out of shape."

And there I was starting to like him...