Review of Fifty Shades Freed 2018 Full Movie: Fifty shades cast you're all dead to me!!! The cast of mamma mia here we go again is going to kick and trash your asses once and for all also peter rabbit and his friends are going to kick your asses too and also jem and the holograms, Barbie and friends, the Beverly Hills teens, the archies winx fairies, winx pixies and their specialists, hj5 (kuu kuu harajuku), monster high ghouls, ever after high princesses, Disney princesses, Disney fairies, bratz, the mane six girls (my little pony), dc super hero girls sailor moon and sailor scouts and other girls childhood characters are going to kick your your asses and destroy your stupid and nasty movie from hell once and for all so you're dead to me.
Fifty shades you're going down at the box office flop on February 9th not a good romance movie very bad movie so you're dead to me in hell!!! The mane 6 girls ( my little pony) are also going to defeat your asses and throw your asses in psychology hospital or mental institutions each one of you in hell because you're all piece of trash box office with punishing you for Razzie awards for worst picture worst actor worst actress worst supporting actor worst supporting actress worst director worst original song, not the oscar so f*** all of you! I hate your series you're dead to me!!!!
¿Why the people see this movie like a sexual movie?
The response es really easy, and actually is not a sexual movie. The problem here is that the film producer did a terrible work. If someone wants to do a good job, for me, the first thing that he has to do is read and pay attention to every detail because those details are the things that do the difference.
The book is perfect for me, it tells us every feeling, everything that throws for their minds, it counts us a romantic history between two persons, how one unexpected moment can be transformed for all a life. And, when someone did the film, he just saw the sexual part and decided to quit all the scenes that did interesting the history. When I read the book, I really hoped something completely different for the movie but that did not happen.
I was one of the few that semi-enjoyed 50 shades of grey and darker, but freed was absolutely horrible. It was a waste of time to watch it. They cut out all of the detail, they let you fall in love with anas dream house and blip but rip it away from you with no info. They were more detailed about the erotica than anything else, my main enjoyment out of the series was It's not a copycat story that is predictable and happy go lucky 90% of the time in the end. I was really looking forward to seeing more details about the house, then the baby and the flash forwards of Ana and Kate's kids. I was 100% disappointed. I think they should have someone else re-do it and burn the original! If only this comment had a happy go lucky ending.
While it adds a little touch of a thriller to it, which makes it a little more interesting, it's, again, the same tedious stuff repeated. I thought the two first films weren't all that good, and this one, while probably the best of the trilogy, gets boring after a while. It's silly, pretentious and overall absurd. If you took all the kinky sex out of it, which is this flick's main attraction, this would be the worst movie of the year. Overall, I'm kind of glad that the series has ended, because it would only lead to more shit. Not really recommended.
The most unnecessary trilogy ever created! Just a pointless franchise that was created to tell the most pointless story. "Fifty Shades Freed" tried to have more action scenes than the previous movies, and much more steamy sex-scenes to keep the audience entertained, but honestly though no one will remember those in the long run. I pity the actors, both Johnson and Dornan, who have proven that they can act in other projects, but they try their best in this movie. Their characters are flat and every line they speak sounds unnatural. "Fifty Shades Freed" is too long, very exhausting at times and quite repetitive.
Before starting, I must confess: I liked the first movie, I'm sorry. Here the justifications, I ask for your understanding. I was a lively teenager, at that time I was 15 years old and there was a real pleasure in violating the rules of movie ratings, sneaking into the rooms to see R-rated films became a dangerous obsession, which caused that, to some degree, lose objectivity by reviewing a film, bearing the added value of the huge buzz and a challenging and always-interesting divergence between critics and audience. Such was the degree of fixation that, at the end of the day, I ended up reading the e-book, a 14-year-old Colombian young boy consuming the sexist and damaging romantic adventures of Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele, feeling a shameful satisfaction in boasting about read and watched the first adaptation of the bestseller with my personal circle, even to the point of choosing it for inaugurate my own database on my favorite flicks, a file folder on my laptop titled "Fifty Shades of Grey" where there are records about its worldwide grossing, every marketing poster, every critic review, every written and video interview, every composition or song from the soundtrack, every person involved in the production; it's sad, disappointing and ignominious look back on, realize and accept the big, big mistake in selecting it as the privileged one. Only three years have passed but it was time enough to get back to reality and remove from my eyes that fabricated beauty filter superimposed on this kind of stories, which, objectively, I consider as a fascinating box office hit and an effective marketing strategy camouflaging soft-porn in the lewd and exaggerated experience sold by the trailers and TV spots, however, beyond its suggestive and captious global advertising campaigns, its overwhelming commercial reception and its bailable contemporary soundtrack, little or nothing will be extracted from E.L. James' adapted trilogy. And this is even more valid if you're rigorous with the newest and "last" installment of this guilty pleasure - if desired, omit the "pleasure" -, because "Freed", again directed by James Foley, provides a correct minimum help to the headache that "Darker" meant, the film gets it through mechanisms a little more realistic, however, it keeps to set them over melodrama and incoherence. The movie betrays its principles voluntarily and the worst thing is that it doesn't care at all and Universal knows it, cinematographically speaking, this franchise is nothing more than - as the billionaire protagonist said - flowers and hearts, sighs of "mature" societies that are the true signals of money, empty money. The craving for money is evident, releasing them as close as possible, even filming them in a row the second and third entry in order to not waste time disconnecting the public (prey) from the product (hunter), one notices the poor interest recruiting new minds after the ghastly stumble that was the sequel, they simply wanted it bigger, hypothetically more provocative, pompous, incompetent and synthetic, and they achieved it.
From a neutral point of view and recognizing exaggeratedly-low quality standards, one could say that the franchise has come from more to less, a decline that has bottomed out. Although the first entry had the benefit of doubt by those who got E.L. James' books as a toxic literary venom, also visually looked acceptable and attractive, adding the surprising boom it received thanks to artists as The Weeknd, Sia, Beyoncé and Ellie Goulding whose commercial triumph of their pop hits belonging to the soundtrack, and furthermore, it breaks new ground for a studio by being one of the first movies to materialize a polarizing sexual practice (BDSM) "without taboo whatsoever", yeah, this must be discussed when it only shows the breasts of the leading role; does a lightness strengthened by movie ratings guarantee higher grosses? A set of factors that ensured an almost general magnetism for audiences with the idea, as it ended its worldwide run with a whopping $571 million dollars. Two years later, "Darker" hit cinemas, and all the minimum possible expectations disappeared. Only a heavy-handed few expected a better made and structured sequel, so do I, but a really few correct shots and the musical success that went to ZAYN and Taylor Swift by "I Don't Wanna Live Forever" were the only two saveable components of another pathetic and cheesy loving mess that, personally, served as a definitive signal to understand that this romantic follow-up movie was one of the worst in the history of cinema. Today, the lucky climax comes to theaters again produced by mega-studio Universal Pictures, now things are sweetened in excess, because of being a story about sexual maturity - by the way that never really happens - of a twenty-seven-year-old self-made millionaire and an English literature college student, it becomes a story about the usual post-marital problems between a dominant man and a now-empowered woman who wants to have children but not to stop fuc%ing "hard" with her husband, nothing suggestive, a headache with new levels of humiliation before a mostly-great movie studio.
It's possible to define the incongruousness, incompetence, absurdity, pedantry of this script in just one two-word line, which is paraphrased by the great actress Dakota Johnson through, sadly, the role giving her worldwide reputation. That affirmation takes place in the initial scenes of the film, where they want to celebrate a major event, and she said it with such insolence that is offensive: "Is it yours?" (She's talking about a private jet with two beefy security agents on the doors.) What? How is it possible that after a year and a half sleeping together in the same bed, an enviable salary and an almost-a-trillion-dollar grossing she doesn't know that she must stop talking nonsense, he's your husband now, you know he has tons of money, don't you?, with just one sentence, this film provoked an absolute suppression of a serious and rigid review, therefore, I simply sat down on that dark seat to capture blunders and blunders from the beginning of the action to the arrive of the closing credits, I survived miraculously. The situations are odiously synthetic as the same film contradicts its convictions, it gives vain power to a woman, who a few seconds later, is tied to the cold bed, being crippled with the sexual deprivation of her husband, I think It isn't the prototype of tale that feminist movements request right now, nobody wants to see a film that preaches one thing and practice another, a pure-marketing joke like this cannot be accepted. As well as many of the unsatisfactory lame present-day audiovisual productions, the script intends to endow a kind of artificial empowerment to Anastasia, however, the plasticity doesn't last long due to the poor and incongruous material Johnson gets: At what point does Anastasia Steele become Vin Diesel in Christian's onerous car? The failed granting of female power is worsened by a harmful mix of genres, a tendency in excess in the chaotic second part. You will suffer a love, maturation, action, kidnapping story, a thriller, a cheap comedy and, in short, a miserable and comical hotchpotch of genres in the worst effective ways conceived by Hollywood. Absurdities emerge from the script like hotcakes, here another one of them: Christian keeps unreasonably an eye on his wife due to a writer with "presence" who discusses possible contracts with the firm, nonetheless contemplating his obsessive and maniac jealousy, he hires a handsome bodyguard who could easily be the one to get his dear girl off his side, wait a minute, what? Is that logical? Although there are no plane crashes, labor harassment, suicidal chicks or older "friends"; there are incredibly unbearable plays deriving from such rich issues as responsibility, marriage and motherhood.
Normally, in my reviews I talk about performances in a positive way, i.e., if such a component isn't a strong point in the film I opt to omit it, however, most of the time I evaluated them since they are a fundamental part in the harmonious ensemble that made up a feature film. With surmised anticipation, "Freed" has broken the rule. I'm ready to write, with the utmost respect and humility, about Jamie Dornan, Eric Johnson and the remaining cast, except Dakota, who performed lousy characters, at least, that keeps it coherent. Watching the opening scenes and instantly perceive the lack of naturalness and estimation in performances is awful and sad, there is no soul or charm, they're deprived of any dynamic or potential, just unmotivated, they seem the first labor opportunity of college actors, it's terribly unacceptable. Likewise, the leading male character never loses that look of concern or that frown when some fatuous vicissitudes arise in the script, we never knew about which "fifty" shadows they've been spoken for more than three hours, he simply seems to be an eye-candy and something else. Dakota Johnson is the only one who impregnates a bit of love on her character, half-heartedly. All right, she's tender, naïve and unnecessarily submissive, but Johnson knows how to turn the card around and get the spectator to try to accept her motivations, an event that never happens. It must be noted that "Freed" plays a similar role to "Dunkirk" for British singer and songwriter Harry styles or "Mudbound" for Mary J. Blige, the radical difference is that Rita Ora doesn't get the expected result with a pastiche character. Another damsel in distress who must be harmed by a stupid villain is unhelpful for this multifaceted woman to show off all her talent, but at least, compared to other characters, crying gagged in a chair surpasses many of her co-stars.
It's cumbersome and delicate to talk about this feature owing to its nature but it's a matter to discuss: the sexual scenes. It's not a secret that for many people the main motive inciting them (mostly young people) to attend a theatre is the curiosity to watch them surrounded by a considerable number of people, a couple having peculiar erotic relations, intimate acts portrayed on the screen smoother than the explicit and bawdy descriptions by the author in the books. Inside a tub, at Mia's, in red rooms, black rooms, cars or beds, any cliché and "coveted" place will have the shameful DNA of "Freed". Artistically, they aren't a feat of art, shots that focus on Anastasia's panting mouth or Christian's muscular back, arrhythmic sequences in which you can feel the lack of feeling between these actors, and even so Dornan claims that he made sure to make his co-star laugh in this kind of scene, I think it was in the final cut. There were great possibilities with BDSM and the sadistic mind of the protagonist as main elements, but they shouldn't increase the range of creativity, however, vibrators and ice cream is the only thing you get from the "climax cinematic you cannot miss" - please, read it with the deep and captivating voice from TV spots. -
Nor does it have much to brag about in visual terms. From Seattle cold landscapes to luxurious closed spaces, the movie is, almost entirely, locked in the city and in burdensome rooms, only a couple of scenes were filmed in a forest. Metallic colors predominate and a beautiful white is only glimpsed at the beginning, a necessary contrast of repetitive dark nuances. In a nutshell, visually, you expect on the screen, again and again, Johnson's breasts and the same black shoes that Christian wears in two different scenes.
Easily the best part of all this suffering: a fantastic musical accompaniment. And we don't talk about the work done by Danny Elfman, usual composer of the franchise, we refer (again) to catchy hits from artists such as Julia Michaels, Hailee Steinfeld or Rita Ora and Liam Payne, who take part of a score that will be the next playlist for millennials for a while, electronic danceable sounds provide a kind of uninhibited tone to the scenes, the sad thing here is that even these songs are inserted in a wrong way, I mean there is no cohesion between harmony of a song and the timing of the moment, besides, there are some hits really wasted thanks to falsely ingenious intros.
Christian closing the door of his red room in the face of his audience is a cynical sign of the little importance that the demanding public meant to this franchise. Seeing women and men dressed as the bride and groom going into the theater reflects the scope achieved by Universal's movies in the mind of most fans of books and movies, however, the opposing group, the disillusioned ones and/or detractors, has to make do with an ending very similar to that of "The Hunger Games" saga- with a scene almost identical -, which concludes the story as badly as it was developed. "Fifty Shades Freed" by James Foley finally says goodbye to the goose that lays golden eggs, bye bye melodramatic loves and dopey plot decisions, gone are those dark times, the light has come not only for the protagonist, also for the public. The short summary created by the flick in the third act, shows the abysmal decay that the movie suffered, simply to conclude with an ending as stereotyped as the film itself. The movie franchise was a very tough nut to crack, but Universal Pictures has broken hearts this Valentine's Day, because its great love, that lover which gave it exorbitant amounts of money, is gone forever, so they say.
¿Why the people see this movie like a sexual movie?
The response es really easy, and actually is not a sexual movie. The problem here is that the film producer did a terrible work. If someone wants to do a good job, for me, the first thing that he has to do is read and pay attention to every detail because those details are the things that do the difference.
I was one of the few that semi-enjoyed 50 shades of grey and darker, but freed was absolutely horrible. It was a waste of time to watch it. They cut out all of the detail, they let you fall in love with anas dream house and blip but rip it away from you with no info. They were more detailed about the erotica than anything else, my main enjoyment out of the series was It's not a copycat story that is predictable and happy go lucky 90% of the time in the end. I was really looking forward to seeing more details about the house, then the baby and the flash forwards of Ana and Kate's kids. I was 100% disappointed. I think they should have someone else re-do it and burn the original! If only this comment had a happy go lucky ending.
While it adds a little touch of a thriller to it, which makes it a little more interesting, it's, again, the same tedious stuff repeated. I thought the two first films weren't all that good, and this one, while probably the best of the trilogy, gets boring after a while. It's silly, pretentious and overall absurd. If you took all the kinky sex out of it, which is this flick's main attraction, this would be the worst movie of the year. Overall, I'm kind of glad that the series has ended, because it would only lead to more shit. Not really recommended.
Before starting, I must confess: I liked the first movie, I'm sorry. Here the justifications, I ask for your understanding. I was a lively teenager, at that time I was 15 years old and there was a real pleasure in violating the rules of movie ratings, sneaking into the rooms to see R-rated films became a dangerous obsession, which caused that, to some degree, lose objectivity by reviewing a film, bearing the added value of the huge buzz and a challenging and always-interesting divergence between critics and audience. Such was the degree of fixation that, at the end of the day, I ended up reading the e-book, a 14-year-old Colombian young boy consuming the sexist and damaging romantic adventures of Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele, feeling a shameful satisfaction in boasting about read and watched the first adaptation of the bestseller with my personal circle, even to the point of choosing it for inaugurate my own database on my favorite flicks, a file folder on my laptop titled "Fifty Shades of Grey" where there are records about its worldwide grossing, every marketing poster, every critic review, every written and video interview, every composition or song from the soundtrack, every person involved in the production; it's sad, disappointing and ignominious look back on, realize and accept the big, big mistake in selecting it as the privileged one. Only three years have passed but it was time enough to get back to reality and remove from my eyes that fabricated beauty filter superimposed on this kind of stories, which, objectively, I consider as a fascinating box office hit and an effective marketing strategy camouflaging soft-porn in the lewd and exaggerated experience sold by the trailers and TV spots, however, beyond its suggestive and captious global advertising campaigns, its overwhelming commercial reception and its bailable contemporary soundtrack, little or nothing will be extracted from E.L. James' adapted trilogy. And this is even more valid if you're rigorous with the newest and "last" installment of this guilty pleasure - if desired, omit the "pleasure" -, because "Freed", again directed by James Foley, provides a correct minimum help to the headache that "Darker" meant, the film gets it through mechanisms a little more realistic, however, it keeps to set them over melodrama and incoherence. The movie betrays its principles voluntarily and the worst thing is that it doesn't care at all and Universal knows it, cinematographically speaking, this franchise is nothing more than - as the billionaire protagonist said - flowers and hearts, sighs of "mature" societies that are the true signals of money, empty money. The craving for money is evident, releasing them as close as possible, even filming them in a row the second and third entry in order to not waste time disconnecting the public (prey) from the product (hunter), one notices the poor interest recruiting new minds after the ghastly stumble that was the sequel, they simply wanted it bigger, hypothetically more provocative, pompous, incompetent and synthetic, and they achieved it.
From a neutral point of view and recognizing exaggeratedly-low quality standards, one could say that the franchise has come from more to less, a decline that has bottomed out. Although the first entry had the benefit of doubt by those who got E.L. James' books as a toxic literary venom, also visually looked acceptable and attractive, adding the surprising boom it received thanks to artists as The Weeknd, Sia, Beyoncé and Ellie Goulding whose commercial triumph of their pop hits belonging to the soundtrack, and furthermore, it breaks new ground for a studio by being one of the first movies to materialize a polarizing sexual practice (BDSM) "without taboo whatsoever", yeah, this must be discussed when it only shows the breasts of the leading role; does a lightness strengthened by movie ratings guarantee higher grosses? A set of factors that ensured an almost general magnetism for audiences with the idea, as it ended its worldwide run with a whopping $571 million dollars. Two years later, "Darker" hit cinemas, and all the minimum possible expectations disappeared. Only a heavy-handed few expected a better made and structured sequel, so do I, but a really few correct shots and the musical success that went to ZAYN and Taylor Swift by "I Don't Wanna Live Forever" were the only two saveable components of another pathetic and cheesy loving mess that, personally, served as a definitive signal to understand that this romantic follow-up movie was one of the worst in the history of cinema. Today, the lucky climax comes to theaters again produced by mega-studio Universal Pictures, now things are sweetened in excess, because of being a story about sexual maturity - by the way that never really happens - of a twenty-seven-year-old self-made millionaire and an English literature college student, it becomes a story about the usual post-marital problems between a dominant man and a now-empowered woman who wants to have children but not to stop fuc%ing "hard" with her husband, nothing suggestive, a headache with new levels of humiliation before a mostly-great movie studio.
It's possible to define the incongruousness, incompetence, absurdity, pedantry of this script in just one two-word line, which is paraphrased by the great actress Dakota Johnson through, sadly, the role giving her worldwide reputation. That affirmation takes place in the initial scenes of the film, where they want to celebrate a major event, and she said it with such insolence that is offensive: "Is it yours?" (She's talking about a private jet with two beefy security agents on the doors.) What? How is it possible that after a year and a half sleeping together in the same bed, an enviable salary and an almost-a-trillion-dollar grossing she doesn't know that she must stop talking nonsense, he's your husband now, you know he has tons of money, don't you?, with just one sentence, this film provoked an absolute suppression of a serious and rigid review, therefore, I simply sat down on that dark seat to capture blunders and blunders from the beginning of the action to the arrive of the closing credits, I survived miraculously. The situations are odiously synthetic as the same film contradicts its convictions, it gives vain power to a woman, who a few seconds later, is tied to the cold bed, being crippled with the sexual deprivation of her husband, I think It isn't the prototype of tale that feminist movements request right now, nobody wants to see a film that preaches one thing and practice another, a pure-marketing joke like this cannot be accepted. As well as many of the unsatisfactory lame present-day audiovisual productions, the script intends to endow a kind of artificial empowerment to Anastasia, however, the plasticity doesn't last long due to the poor and incongruous material Johnson gets: At what point does Anastasia Steele become Vin Diesel in Christian's onerous car? The failed granting of female power is worsened by a harmful mix of genres, a tendency in excess in the chaotic second part. You will suffer a love, maturation, action, kidnapping story, a thriller, a cheap comedy and, in short, a miserable and comical hotchpotch of genres in the worst effective ways conceived by Hollywood. Absurdities emerge from the script like hotcakes, here another one of them: Christian keeps unreasonably an eye on his wife due to a writer with "presence" who discusses possible contracts with the firm, nonetheless contemplating his obsessive and maniac jealousy, he hires a handsome bodyguard who could easily be the one to get his dear girl off his side, wait a minute, what? Is that logical? Although there are no plane crashes, labor harassment, suicidal chicks or older "friends"; there are incredibly unbearable plays deriving from such rich issues as responsibility, marriage and motherhood.
Normally, in my reviews I talk about performances in a positive way, i.e., if such a component isn't a strong point in the film I opt to omit it, however, most of the time I evaluated them since they are a fundamental part in the harmonious ensemble that made up a feature film. With surmised anticipation, "Freed" has broken the rule. I'm ready to write, with the utmost respect and humility, about Jamie Dornan, Eric Johnson and the remaining cast, except Dakota, who performed lousy characters, at least, that keeps it coherent. Watching the opening scenes and instantly perceive the lack of naturalness and estimation in performances is awful and sad, there is no soul or charm, they're deprived of any dynamic or potential, just unmotivated, they seem the first labor opportunity of college actors, it's terribly unacceptable. Likewise, the leading male character never loses that look of concern or that frown when some fatuous vicissitudes arise in the script, we never knew about which "fifty" shadows they've been spoken for more than three hours, he simply seems to be an eye-candy and something else. Dakota Johnson is the only one who impregnates a bit of love on her character, half-heartedly. All right, she's tender, naïve and unnecessarily submissive, but Johnson knows how to turn the card around and get the spectator to try to accept her motivations, an event that never happens. It must be noted that "Freed" plays a similar role to "Dunkirk" for British singer and songwriter Harry styles or "Mudbound" for Mary J. Blige, the radical difference is that Rita Ora doesn't get the expected result with a pastiche character. Another damsel in distress who must be harmed by a stupid villain is unhelpful for this multifaceted woman to show off all her talent, but at least, compared to other characters, crying gagged in a chair surpasses many of her co-stars.
It's cumbersome and delicate to talk about this feature owing to its nature but it's a matter to discuss: the sexual scenes. It's not a secret that for many people the main motive inciting them (mostly young people) to attend a theatre is the curiosity to watch them surrounded by a considerable number of people, a couple having peculiar erotic relations, intimate acts portrayed on the screen smoother than the explicit and bawdy descriptions by the author in the books. Inside a tub, at Mia's, in red rooms, black rooms, cars or beds, any cliché and "coveted" place will have the shameful DNA of "Freed". Artistically, they aren't a feat of art, shots that focus on Anastasia's panting mouth or Christian's muscular back, arrhythmic sequences in which you can feel the lack of feeling between these actors, and even so Dornan claims that he made sure to make his co-star laugh in this kind of scene, I think it was in the final cut. There were great possibilities with BDSM and the sadistic mind of the protagonist as main elements, but they shouldn't increase the range of creativity, however, vibrators and ice cream is the only thing you get from the "climax cinematic you cannot miss" - please, read it with the deep and captivating voice from TV spots. -
Nor does it have much to brag about in visual terms. From Seattle cold landscapes to luxurious closed spaces, the movie is, almost entirely, locked in the city and in burdensome rooms, only a couple of scenes were filmed in a forest. Metallic colors predominate and a beautiful white is only glimpsed at the beginning, a necessary contrast of repetitive dark nuances. In a nutshell, visually, you expect on the screen, again and again, Johnson's breasts and the same black shoes that Christian wears in two different scenes.
Easily the best part of all this suffering: a fantastic musical accompaniment. And we don't talk about the work done by Danny Elfman, usual composer of the franchise, we refer (again) to catchy hits from artists such as Julia Michaels, Hailee Steinfeld or Rita Ora and Liam Payne, who take part of a score that will be the next playlist for millennials for a while, electronic danceable sounds provide a kind of uninhibited tone to the scenes, the sad thing here is that even these songs are inserted in a wrong way, I mean there is no cohesion between harmony of a song and the timing of the moment, besides, there are some hits really wasted thanks to falsely ingenious intros.
Christian closing the door of his red room in the face of his audience is a cynical sign of the little importance that the demanding public meant to this franchise. Seeing women and men dressed as the bride and groom going into the theater reflects the scope achieved by Universal's movies in the mind of most fans of books and movies, however, the opposing group, the disillusioned ones and/or detractors, has to make do with an ending very similar to that of "The Hunger Games" saga- with a scene almost identical -, which concludes the story as badly as it was developed. "Fifty Shades Freed" by James Foley finally says goodbye to the goose that lays golden eggs, bye bye melodramatic loves and dopey plot decisions, gone are those dark times, the light has come not only for the protagonist, also for the public. The short summary created by the flick in the third act, shows the abysmal decay that the movie suffered, simply to conclude with an ending as stereotyped as the film itself. The movie franchise was a very tough nut to crack, but Universal Pictures has broken hearts this Valentine's Day, because its great love, that lover which gave it exorbitant amounts of money, is gone forever, so they say.
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