Crash

Can a Crash be subtle?

by Hunter Isham

        I remember being fairly impressed by Paul Haggis' Crash, the film that took home the Academy Award for Best Picture in 2005. I hadn't seen the film in a while before viewing it again for the blog, although over the last four or five years I have heard a good deal about how the film's victory on Oscar night was quite a shocker, and that it may not have been deserving (many considered Brokeback Mountain the clear winner). While I cannot say which of those five was most deserving (I've only seen three of them), I can see why Crash was embraced by the Academy. It's a film with a massive ensemble that turns out one great performance after another in a tale about racism and morality in modern America. This sensitive material is what contributes to the film's divisive position among cinephiles, fueling the argument that for all the wonderful actors in the film, it falls victim to its own maladroit handling of its themes and subtexts. Some hail it as a masterpiece, while others consider it contrived, and I suppose I fall somewhere in between.
        Crash is one of those films in which the large cast is divided into to separate yet constantly intersecting stories, most of which are fairly compelling. We meet people from different backgrounds, racially and socially, who inhabit the bustling city of Los Angeles, representing everything from the Hollywood director to the immigrant shopkeep to the rookie cop. Crimes are committed and investigated, laws are bent and loosely upheld, and perspectives on morality and racism are contrasted and blurred together. This is a film that is difficult to dissect as a whole, but somewhat easier to look at in pieces. The cast, as mentioned above, is absolutely top-notch. Matt Dillon, Don Cheadle, Michael Peña, Terrence Howard, and Keith David are but just a few members of this ensemble that shine in their roles. Dillon plays a bigoted, pig of an officer who humiliates Howard's television director, violating his wife (well played by Thandie Newton), later fueling a powerful scene with Howard and some other LAPD officers. Cheadle, another officer, struggles with personal and professional problems in a system that pushes for corruption, something David's police captain acknowledges and explains in his one great scene. Peña proves to be the breakout in the handful of scenes he has, particularly one in which he tenderly helps his young daughter cope with living in a dangerous part of the city. The cast of Crash ultimately elevates the material in a way that will allow viewers to forgive its moments of heavy-handed storytelling.
       The most difficult part of Crash to sit through is not its chilling, and at times terribly realistic, scenes of angry confrontation or abuse, but rather the opening sections in which we are introduced to characters who are, in one way or another, harboring a great deal of racial resentment. Perhaps their character easily displays these prejudices, like Sandra Bullock's upper class wife of the district attorney, or has them coaxed out via the a racially charged interaction, as is the case with Howard's director (although his anger is fueled by having to face racism rather than being prejudiced himself). It quickly becomes quite obvious that Crash is a film that will not deliver its messages with much subtlety, at least not those themes dealing with race. For example, a Persian man wants to buy a gun to protect his store, and a trip to the gun shop quickly devolves into the shop owner calling the Persian man "Osama," and asking why he should arm a terrorist. Bullock's character, married to a man who's worried about pleasing minority voters, loudly asks for the locks on their doors to be changed a second time as a Latino locksmith (Peña) with tattoos is just finishing the job, because he most certainly has to be a gang member. To say that people who make these kinds of assumptions do not exist would be false, but to have so much of this racial tension spread throughout the film in such obvious ways makes the story ring just a little less true. Roughly the first third of the film may have you thinking, "He's racist too? And her?!" You'll start to wonder who in the film is a decent human being, but once the heavy-handed heavy lifting is done, we start to see more dimensions of these characters. Some are underwritten, and remain more stereotypical was-ignorant-but-now-sees-the-light archetypes, but others, like Dillon's cop, are written and performed in such a way that your opinion of them changes as the film progresses. I suppose the best way to put it would be to say that this film is just too blatantly obvious for its own good at times, but it mostly overcomes those shortcomings before it reaches its conclusion.
        Crash will continue to divide audiences with each viewing. I land somewhere in the middle of the collision of those viewers, finding it to be a moving, and at times powerful, look at the lives of seemingly disparate individuals in Los Angeles. It's a film that gets better as it and its onlookers settle into the tone and characters it has to offer. Crash tries too hard to be the relevant drama we catch many glimpses of throughout its two hours, but it is by no means a failure. Sure, its approach is a bit contrived, but the film is a wholly worthwhile experience packed with excellent performances, and believe it or not, some illumination on the murky issue of racism. How we relate to one another is shaped by far more than just how we look, with issues of background and deep-seated emotion at play, so it is quite admirable that this film attempts to show complexities that may be glossed over in features with a different take on this kind of story. Flawed but powerful, Crash will no doubt continue to inspire much debate about its merits and faults, and that, I suppose, is the true gauge of a successful film. 8/10


P.S. For those that are curious, of the three 2005 Best Picture nominees that I've seen (Steven Spielberg's Munich, Paul Haggis's Crash, and George Clooney's Good Night, and Good Luck.), I would have to say that I consider Goodnight, and Good Luck. the best of the bunch. It excellently recreates the world of 1950s television journalism as it explores Edward R. Murrow's struggle to report on the egregious actions of Senator Joseph McCarthy. It's so different from Crash that it's a tough comparison to make, but I suppose it appeals to my own interest in period stories (shot in beautiful black and white, no less), especially those about people working in the film and television industry.