As an erotic romance reader, I've delved only slightly into the world of BDSM. I'm merely a visitor, a voyeur into a lifestyle I will never fully grasp. But from the little I've experienced, I find it to be an art form. A science, if you will. It takes talent to take the pain sensors of the body and manipulate them into feeling pleasure. It takes a gift to control one's mind to the point of complete and utter submission. To own their trust. To deliver the otherwise impossible.
Before its theatrical revamp, I had never heard of Mr. Grey and his fifty shades. As the hype increased around me, I admit to the stimulation of my curiosity. From the mouths of its readers, those few around me, I've received a mix of reactions. One tossed it before ever making it midway. One hailed it as amazing. Others, I hear, damn it for glorifying rape and domestic abuse. BDSM does nothing of the sort, and should this book-this movie-do so then it does nothing more but bastardize an art.
As I read, I came upon this review of the movie from Village Voice:
...The thrust of the series isn't Christian Grey awakening Anastasia to the pleasures of submission — instead, it's her convincing him that his sexual wants are wrong. She may temporarily thrill as he spanks her over his knee, but the book-three climax is a wedding and a baby. The series savors kink and stigmatizes it, implying Grey's only into BDSM because an older woman stole his virginity at fifteen and his mother was a crack whore. Confesses Grey, "I'm fifty shades of fucked up."
It's too bad that Taylor-Johnson can't give these insults a suspicious side-eye. She must mouth them as gospel, since his Mrs. Robinson–like backstory villain factors in to the sequels. As a result, the book and the film punish their fans. Yes, this naughty stuff is hot — but if you like it too much, you're sick.
- Amy Nicholson (Village Voice)
I haven't read it. And I won't.
I'm curious enough to want to watch it. But would doing so serve any other purpose than to arouse my anger and sense of wrong?
Her chin came up. “There’s nothing fun about someone restraining me.”
“What if the restraints are all in your mind?” He pressed into her skin, knowing he would leave an indent. Wanting to. “And what if that someone was me?”
-No Romance Required by Cari Quinn
BDSM books that I have read/enjoyed can be found here. Granted, I lean more towards the bondage and domination/discipline rather than the sadism and masochism aspect of it all.