Crash – Automobile accidents and sex are somehow linked, though that link is tenuous at best, even when the movie puts its best foot forward. Certain dark individuals find sexual solace in the twisted wreckage of metal and plastic; the more damaging the crash, the more erotic, apparently. Here, a slightly insane scientist (Elias Koteas) recreates famous crashes (such as the James Dean crash) and compiles a scrapbook of his work, drawing in a bored producer/director (James Spader) and his wife, the beautiful but damaged Debra Kara Unger, a doctor (Holly Hunter) whom Spader collides with, and a few other odd specimens of humanity to achieve some sort of sexual zenith.
This film really has no redeeming value. To say the plot is abstract is too kind. Rather, it suffers from its name, a violent debacle featuring a cast cold and zombie-like. Unger makes sex with a corpse look attractive, Hunter and Spader sleepwalk through their roles, and there is simply no cohesion in the various thematic elements woven in by director David Cronenberg. Though I’m sure there was a point to this movie, it was hidden in the unmistable stench of feces the script was apparently penned with.