A thoroughly unengaging and pretentious piece from the always controversial Cronenberg, Crash is supposed to take us on a journey into the furtive world of people who get sexual kicks from the thrill of car crashes. What this comprises is a series of unnecessary scenes of people getting all hot and bothered in cars and fondling each others scars as Spader�s car crash survivor becomes deeper embroiled in this fetishism.
Despite its utter tediousness, my main issue with Crash is that it is thematically repugnant. The sex scenes didn�t offend me, they are just a little sad.
What really causes offence is the immense lack of responsibility shown by everyone involved (presumably extending back to Ballard, the author of the novel on which it is based). Okay, so there is little chance of anyone wanting to copycat the car crash fascination of the main characters, but to be so insensitive to the feelings of anyone who has lost a friend or relative in such a way is frankly unforgiveable. The usual argument of screen violence that �you don�t have to watch it� does not apply here because just the mere knowledge that someone has made a film glorifying such a frequent tragedy is reprehensible. |
