May 16, 2005

If you haven't seen Crash yet, you may want to skip today's column.

If you saw Crash, loved it, and don't want to see something you feel good about thrown to the ground and kicked repeatedly, you may want to skip today's column.

If you think you may want to read this later, click here, which will bring up the archive page, bookmark it, and return when you like.

And now....

I hated Crash.

I didn't dislike it. I didn't feel disappointed. I watched the movie and got more and more irritated as it went along.

Two clear points of reference occurred to me while watching the film. The first was Million Dollar Baby. The scene with Maggie's family - you know, the one that even those of us who loved the film couldn't defend - that's Crash from beginning to end.

The other movie, which is, it seems to me, the template for Crash, is Magnolia.

By sometime in the second act, I became clear on the thought that this script was a reaction to Magnolia... as in "Why are they so in love with this Paul Anderson kid... I can do this much, much better."

But here is the problem. Paul Anderson knows that a valley filled with a few million people and showing a dozen or so who can't seem to avoid each other is a very theatrical device. As such, he not only has a sense of humor about it, but he knows that every moment you spend with his characters is critical to the experience of the movie.

But the real answer is, Paul Haggis has created himself here as the commercial version of Paul Thomas Anderson... a simpler, gentler PT. Paul O' The Valley can be incredibly self-indulgent as a writer/director and, God knows, he needs to work with a producer who he trusts is wanting to cut in the best interest of the work, but I got more out of one primal scream of rage in a the pharmacy from Julianne Moore than I got out of so much chatter in Crash.

Like everyone in Magnolia, everyone in Crash is either a fraud or ends up being pushed into fraudulence. The difference is, in Magnolia Anderson keeps shrieking at his characters from his typewriter, "Take responsibility for your evil shit, people... or I am going to break you and bring you to your knees." He digs into their dark spirits. He challenges them to forgive. And he gives most of his characters something to focus on other than themselves. And in the couple of cases when the characters are utterly self-absorbed, they are forced to face themselves in a new way.

Haggis, for me, takes all the structural concepts and then revs them up and over the red line. As each third act set piece came up, an orgasm of coincidences running through acts one and two, I found myself anticipating the most "unexpected" twist... which Haggis followed by going somewhere even more extreme and coincidental.

Have you ever had a day or two where everything feels connected to something you need to experience... kind of like seeing a lot of people with casts when you have a broken limb yourself? Well, everyone in this film is having that day or two, all at the same time.

At some point, all this metaphoric coincidence reaches beyond the reasonable boundary of the unconscious. And the author becomes a structure machine. Clever, clever, clever. But does all that clever turn the corner into profundity? Well, for some people it definitely does. For me, it became the tree that distracted completely from the forest. Not only did I have to swallow the coincidences, I had to buy into behavior from a number of characters that I just didn't believe.

As I have discussed here repeatedly, I believe that form should be a wide open book. Dogville's empty stage and Star Wars' dense CG backgrounds... both can be a platform for every bit as much drama.

Stepping back from Crash and trying to find a reason to go with the endless coincidence as a format for the metaphor, I find the work lacking depth. And returning to the forest of Magnolia, Crash lacks the profound, non-verbal imagery that makes it easy to find Magnolia uncomfortable and grating yet incredibly hard not to remember its images.

Thing is, Haggis is a solid craftsman and may become a very good director. He has a good group of actors and he barely gives the audience time to breath. And he understands a key to film popularity... he lets the audience get a step ahead of the action, anticipating what's next and then taking them a step beyond, catching them by surprise (which I have already indicated, irritated the grab out of me).

One by one, most of Haggis' characters are very interesting. Matt Dillon is a racist cop with a sick father who was a progressive in the 60s and 70s. Great... let's get into that guy. Don Cheadle is a self-loathing black man who uses racial insensitivity to the Latina partner he's screwing to keep his distance, a brother who is a gentle thief and a mother who dips into the heroin now and again. Fascinating... if we really examine his life and the lives of those around him. Terence Howard and Thandie Newton are a light skinned black couple who struggle with their racial identity and are challenged when "Driving While Black." Terrific... let's really get into it. Sandra Bullock is a rich white woman whose racism is just inches from the surface but has to face the ugliness that is so close in a real way for the first time while her husband plays the system, since race is just another political card. Tremendous... if we really get into it.

But like I said, by the third act, it felt like Haggis was a guy on a mission to be The Cleverest of Them All and pulled out every cheap screenwriter trick in the book. Yes, if the stripper comes over and sticks her boobs in your face, she expects a bigger tip.... but she doesn't expect to be respected in the morning.

Crash constantly wants to show you its ass and then get a pat on the head for being so brave as to show you its ass. But if you want me to think you are brave, you have to have an honest discussion with me about how you got to a point in your life when showing your ass for a living seemed like a good idea.

Any fool can show their ass. But only a very talented guy like Haggis can show his ass and leave the audience feeling like they got a profound message out of the viewing.

Me? Look me in the eyes and tell me what you really think.

E-ME. What do you really think?