CRASH / Paul Haggis (2004)
February 4th, 2008 by Scott Marks
Crash (2005)
Written & Directed by Paul Haggis
Starring: Matt Dillon, Ryan Phillippe, Terrence Howard, Thandie Newton, Sandra Bullock, Don Cheadle, Jennifer Esposito, Loretta Devine,
Running Time: 107 min.
Aspect Ratio: 
Rating: 
There is actually talk of this Academy Award winning monstrosity becoming a weekly series of FX. Once again, garbage seeks its own level. There’s enough senseless anger on TV as is, but that won’t stop FX execs from bringing dozens of hate-filled, racist Angelinos into living rooms each week.
Paul Haggis’ “Crash” is a clumsy, humorless, lesson-laden, multi-character drama that’s about as subtle as a guy tickling your palm with his middle finger during a handshake. It’s also one of the worst films ever to take home a Best Picture Oscar.
Haggis is a near perfect example of how a great director can save a dreadful scriptwriter. See Clint Eastwood’s adaptation of Haggis’ hackneyed screenplay for his acclaimed “Million Dollar Baby.” Hitchcock had more to work with in “Marnie.” In spite of the screenwriter’s contribution, Eastwood’s film remains a masterpiece. Clint has a vision, not a sentimental soapbox to construct.
When left to his own devices, Haggis is a well-intentioned scribbler. There is nothing more satisfying than a master director stacking the deck with numerous characters, shuffling their lives and dealing a winning hand. Haggis plays fifty-two pick up.
The action plays out in flashback over the course of one day. Appearing in only four brief scenes as a Brentwood housewife Sandra Bullock comes to the realization that she’s angry. We learn of her husband Brendan Frasier’s position when he says, “I’m the f–king district attorney of Los Angeles.” Brilliant character development and exposition.
A racist, gun-toting Persian shop owner (Shaun Toub) hates being constantly mistaken for an Arab. Don Cheadle, who also acts as executive producer, and Jennifer Esposito are a pair of police detectives carrying on a torrid affair. Matt Dillon is the jaded Mark Fuhrmanesque racist with a badge and Ryan Philippe, in the film’s most dumbfounding role, his rookie partner. Chris “Ludacris” Bridges and Larenz Tate play two of the most philosophical, albeit race-baiting, car-jackers ever to make it to the screen. Throw in a princely Mexican locksmith (Michael Pena) and a middle-aged Korean couple and you have the makings of a multi-cultural made-for-TV movie of the week.
The impetus for the film came from a real life incident in which Haggis was the victim of an at-gunpoint carjacking. In the press notes Haggis throws around such hot button topics as “urban isolation,” “race and class,” and “intolerance as a collective problem.” More concerned with issues than storytelling, the film quickly turns into a giant Golden Book of moral turpitude.
As a director, Haggis makes a lousy screenwriter. His idea of narrative storytelling is strictly the stuff film schools are made of. Match cut between one character opening a door and another entering a different location. Cross cut for no rhyme or reason between stories. Employ cheap sentiment whenever the plot mechanics slow you down and when written into a corner, devise the simplest forms of coincidence to easily extricate yourself.
The only remotely satisfying thread concerns a black television producer (Terrence Howard) and his light-skinned wife (Thandie Newton) The couple is stopped by Dillon and Phillippe for committing an act of vehicular sodomy. She rightfully accuses the cops of pulling her over due to what they perceived as a white women giving a bl–job to the big, black enemy. While frisking Newton, pent-up Dillon manages to sneak in a little digital penetration. Howard, wanting only to avoid bad publicity and jail time, overlooks the “finger-fu–ing” in exchange for their freedom.
Don’t think for one second that this unskilled writer/director is not going to throw logic to the wind and have both cops accidentally (and conveniently) meet up with the couple in subsequent reels. Happenstance litters the film’s second half. In less than 24 hours, Phillippe manages to absorb just enough of Dillon’s racist hate to go from saving Howard from an almost certain firing squad to killing a black hitchhiker, who conveniently turns out to be Cheadle’s gangbanging brother. Oh brother!
Even the nicest of characters can’t help but hate in the end. Loretta Devine plays a hospital worker who gets an earful of Dillon’s racial angst. During a phone conversation he learns that her name is Shaniqua. “That figures,” he snarls into the receiver causing the offended black woman to slam the phone down. The last shot in the film finds Shaniqua, absent since reel two, involved in a fender-bender hurling racial epithets at a Chinese driver.
As with “Million Dollar Baby’s” Mo Cuishle, Haggis serves up another, even more precious little angel. The noble locksmith’s daughter sleeps under the bed for fear of stray bullets like those in the old neighborhood. The Persian shopkeeper, inexplicably assigning blame for a break-in on Pena’s smithing skills, decides to test out his new gun. Daddy’s little girl pretends to be a Bible and blocks the bullet. Don’t worry folks! The reveal that the box the bullets came in was marked “blanks” was so quick that a fellow critic, probably glancing at his watch for a second, didn’t notice the insert shot.
Here is another well-intentioned, Hollywood “issues picture” geared for tongue-clicking liberals eager to nod along in the dark with Haggis’ obvious observations. I felt like nodding off.
When it was over, I turned to a friend and, holding back my rage, suggested that this would not only make my Ten Worst list, it would probably win a Best Picture Oscar. Right on both counts.
Tags: Academy Award, Best Picture, Crash, CRASH (2004), Film Review, FX, Matt Dillon, Oscar, Paul Haggis, TV series