Obtuse

Rating: 1/10 (17 September 2006)

Crash is probably the best recent example of small-minded "gimme an Oscar!" Hollywood film-making. Not since watching films from the twenties have I seen such a movie that tries to pass one-note racial caricatures for characters. Ever since this movie came out, kids at my school have talked glowingly of this movie, calling it "brave" (believe me boys and girls, there is nothing brave about Hollywood film-making) and "honest," and other phrases that only tell me that someone saw an "indie" (HA!) flick with a "message," and, by God, it makes them "smart." There really isn't a lot to express in the way of the plot. The story consists of a bunch of intertwining plots about people who are all bigots (except the children, because kids are supposed symbolize innocence folks, it's good screen writing...right?), and they all end up learning their lesson (awwww) or at least experiencing an awakening to their ignorant ways. It's essentially a sloppier version of Paul Thomas Anderson's Magnolia, with lots and lots of sixties-era racism injected into it. In Paul Haggis' film, people only seem to think about one thing: how much they really, really hate those darn wetbacks, porch-monkeys, crackers, rag-heads, or (enter more racial slurs to your leisure here), and they're gonna let them all know, at every waking opportunity, how much they really despise them. Apparently, no one ever told Paul Haggis that we live in a really, really politically-correct age, and even the biggest bigots are usually forced to figure out other ways to express their racist beliefs, because if you express them the way people do in Crash, you get your ass kicked, and rightfully so. Don Cheadle's gloats on the phone about getting some white-woman action, when the girl he speaks of is right there naked underneath him (Yeah, you read that right). Ludicrous rants to Lawrenz Tate about how they are discriminated against by those black-hating honkies, right before they pull out their guns to rob a white couple of their SUV. Sandra Bullock bitches about how one of those dirty gang-banging no-good Mexicans is changing their lock, and how he's going to give the key to all his "homies," right in front of their Mexican maid. Later, she discovers their maid is her only real friend. Awwww. Gee, that's deep folks. Seriously, it's almost too intentionally ironic and silly to even prove a point. Paul Haggis' film doesn't really reveal anything about race relations in America. Haggis' script uses every two-bit trick in the book to tug at your heartstrings, employing cheap, manipulative gimmicks at every point and turn to get you to squirt some tears. This probably stems from Haggis' background as a writer for TV sitcoms. It's pretty ironic that the guy who wrote for that show that many black people say is "racist," Diff'rent Strokes, is now trying to lecture American audiences about tolerance. Oh, Haggis. Another thing about this movie that really grinds my gears is its complete and utter contempt for the audience, because only someone who thinks that everyone in the theater acts like his contemptible characters would make a film like this. This movie patronizes the audience every chance it gets. Granted, this movie might very well have been relevant...had it come out forty or fifty years ago. But it's a day late (well, several decades, but who's counting?), a dollar short, and more laughable than important. Since this movie won Best Picture at the Razzies, I mean, the Oscars, I've pretty much come to completely disregard anything the Acadamy gives nods to. Giving Best Picture to the Haggis-written (and equally cheap) Million Dollar Baby, but my God, has the Acadamy no shame? I know it's all politics, but when Dakota Fanning is on the board of people who have the final say on who gets what in the biggest film awards ceremony in the world, I'm going to have to just try my best to ignore the bastards.