Fifty Shades of Meh: That’s what all the fuss was about?

That’s what all the fuss was about?

Seriously??

That???

Granted, I’m not exactly the movie’s target audience, because I have both a Y chromosome and a healthy respect for women. But sitting through “Fifty Shades of Grey” is like watching paint dry.

And then watching that paint get spanked.

When her roommate (Eloise Mumford) falls ill, college student Anastasia Steele (Dakota Johnson) steps in to interview 27-year-old billionaire Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan) for the school newspaper.

Before long, he’s showing up at the hardware store where she works, buying rope, heavy-duty tape and cable ties and talking about his dark secrets and how he hates being touched.

He’s basically the Dexter of sex.

He’s Sexter.

From there, “Fifty Shades” is a tale as old as time. The virginal Anastasia wants a handsome prince to take her to the movies and snuggle. Christian wants to control what she eats, what she wears and, every so often, tie her up and beat her with a stick.

It’s the perfect date movie for anyone who got turned on watching Lupita Nyong’o get lashed in “12 Years a Slave.”

Considering all the hype and the headlines — one on our website read “ ‘Fifty Shades’ movie won’t include questionable tampon scene” — I went into the screening expecting to be scandalized. But anyone who’s ever flipped past Cinemax in the wee hours has seen worse. Take away the nudity, and Madonna was getting away with more than that a quarter century ago on MTV.

As Christian, Dornan delivers a performance so wooden, it could’ve been sponsored by Lumber Liquidators. Worst of all, he has zero chemistry with Johnson. Honestly, I’ve generated more sexual tension with a phlebotomist, more than one DMV clerk and at least a half-dozen sandwich artists at Subway.

Johnson, though, at least seems to be having a good time, despite being horribly miscast. As Anastasia, she’s awkward and silly and goofy and sweet. (And deserving of a better movie.) She also giggles at some of Christian’s advances. She’s fun to watch, even if she’s being counterproductive to the movie’s supposed sensual nature.

“I’m not going to touch you,” Christian says early on, by way of seduction. “Not until I have your written consent.”

Wait, what?

That leads to “Fifty Shades’ ” one entertaining scene: the business meeting in which Anastasia addresses some of her concerns in the ridiculously graphic legal document Christian requires her to sign. You think your job’s bad? Imagine having worked your way through law school only to spend your days drafting domination contracts involving methods of restraint and genital clamps.

“Fifty Shades” isn’t ha-ha cheesy fun. It isn’t tee-hee quasi-dirty fun. It’s terrible. On almost every level.

“Roll your eyes at me again,” Christian tells Anastasia at one point, “and I will take you across my knee.”

Good thing he couldn’t see all the ocular gymnastics going on in the audience.

Dude would’ve flat out ruined his spanking hand.

Contact Christopher Lawrence at clawrence@reviewjournal.com or 702-380-4567.