The middle episode of this spectacularly dopey trilogy is at least a little better than the first film. In terms of actual story, it is so thin that it is clinically anorexic, but there is a moderately successful attempt to humanise the lead characters this time round, even if it is frequently undermined by the often-ridiculous dialogue. It is not about the sex, of course (of which there is very little), but about the soapy relationship that fills the lengthy running time, with billionaire Christian lurching awkwardly between his particular fetishes and discovering almost-human feelings, and Anastasia remaining oddly unappealing and trapped within the illusion of independence. It is so difficult to know how much of this is meant to be taken seriously and what is knowing tongue-in-cheek self-parody, but it does at least set up the final film adequately.
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