Crash (1996)

Director: David Cronenberg
Writer: J. G. Ballard (novel), David Cronenberg (screenplay)

Based on the novel of the same name by J. G. Ballard (which is more unsettling than the film), film producer James Ballad (James Spader) is in a car wreck with Dr. Helen Remington (Holly Hunter) and her husband who is killed. Already engaged in unusual sexual cat-and-mouse games with his wife, Ballard and Dr. Remington meet the enigmatic Vaughan (Elias Kotaes) who introduces the two to the erotic/cathartic possibilities of car crashes.

David Cronenberg is one of my top two or three favorite directors and one of the rare modern directors who have a distinctive touch in their work. You could watch a few minutes of any scene from any film he's made and know that Cronenberg did it. When I ask people if they've seen Crash, I know it's a loaded question. I know they're going to think first to the 2004 Oscar-winner. Then I say, "no the one from 1996…with James Spader." The blank expression is usually shattered when I sum up the film the same way Janet Maslin did: "Sex and car crashes."

But really, that's over simplifying the film. Crash reminds me in a way of Wild Things (1998): a deeply complex film overshadowed by the controversial sexual nature of the narrative. Like the rest of Cronenberg's oeuvre, there is an overreaching sense of control about the film, a firm authoritative hand at work. Cronenberg's clinical/existential detachment from the material lends credibility to what you're seeing while many of the images and situations are logically far-fetched. For all the scenes of intercourse, and there are many in a variety of positions, the detached view of Cronenberg's camera desexualizes the sex scenes. In the place of any titillation, the sex is passionless and mechanical. The effect of this places the eroticism instead on the cars in which most of these sex acts occur. The collisions between cars become a visual metaphor for the violence the human body undergoes during intercourse. The cars also become symbols of obsession and the potential fusion of flesh and technology, another reoccurring element of Cronenberg's work (Videodrome [1983] and The Fly [1986] especially).

What I've always appreciated about Cronenberg's style is how he moves his camera. I referred to tone of Crash and most of work as clinical, existential, or detached. The reason for this how little his camera moves during a given scene. He uses pans, tilts, dolly shots, and crane shots judiciously but the frame remains stationary when the camera is in motion. I am referring to the shaky, hand-held camera that's all the rage among current filmmakers trying to get that really "Real" look and feel. This is supposed to give the cinéma vérité or on location documentary appearance even though it's artificial. Cronenberg does not resort to this kind of trickery to evoke a sense of reality or truth. He lets the scene he shoots speak for itself. Not for the timid, Crash leaves you to consider what you've seen and draw your own conclusions.