Keep in mind that Fifty Shades Of Grey is the first chapter in a trilogy, of the breed where a given installation isn’t remotely intended to stand on its own: The film ends seemingly out of nowhere, with Ana and Christian speaking each other’s names as an elevator door closes between them, in a shot mirroring an earlier, far more provocative version of the same exchange. It’s all handled awkwardly and poorly: Ana blows up at Christian and tells him she needs to know exactly how dramatic and demanding his sexual proclivities get, and demands he do his absolute worst to her in his secret sexual dungeon. So he shamefacedly whops her on the ass a few times with a belt, she weeps and leaves, and the credits roll.

The issue here isn’t that the film ends before resolving their relationship—we have two movies left to go—and it isn’t that it doesn’t resolve the endlessly annoying question of the stupid contract. It’s that it’s a pitifully rushed and passive ending. What’s meant to be a dramatic culmination of all their issues with each other, condensed into one immense blowout that could end their relationship, is presented in a quick, tame, and vaguely embarrassed way—Christian, Ana, and the film itself all seem to just want to get the scene over with, and the film as well. For a film that’s supposed to be about climaxes, this one really botches its own.