Crash (1996/I)

Réalisateur:

David Cronenberg

Writers:

J.G. Ballard (book)
David Cronenberg (written by)

Release Date:

21 mars 1997 (USA)

Genre:

Drame | Thriller

Accroche:

The most controversial film you will ever see.

Plot:

After getting into a serious car accident, a TV director discovers an underground sub-culture of scarred, omnisexual car-crash victims who use car accidents and the raw sexual energy they produce to try to rejuvenate his sex life with his wife.

Plot Keywords:

Depravity | Leg Spreading | Degradation | Dog | Sexual Cruelty

Awards:

8 wins & 4 nominations

Avis des utilisateurs:

dangerously erotic work that changes years after seeing it

Ensemble

James Spader	...	James Ballard
Holly Hunter	...	Helen Remington
Elias Koteas	...	Vaughan
Deborah Kara Unger	...	Catherine Ballard
Rosanna Arquette	...	Gabrielle
Peter MacNeill	...	Colin Seagrave
Yolande Julian	...	Airport Hooker
Cheryl Swarts	...	Vera Seagrave
Judah Katz	...	Salesman
Nicky Guadagni	...	Tattooist
Ronn Sarosiak	...	A.D.
Boyd Banks	...	Grip
Markus Parilo	...	Man in Hanger
Alice Poon	...	Camera Girl
John Stoneham Jr.	...	Trask

Autre(s) titre(s) :

Crash (France) [fr]

MPAA:

Rated NC-17 for numerous explicit sex scenes.

Durée:

100 min | 90 min (R-rated version)

Pays:

Canada | UK

Langue:

Anglais | Suédois

Couleur:

Couleur

Aspect Ratio:

1.37 : 1

Son:

Dolby | SDDS

Classification:

Australia:MA (TV rating) | Hungary:18 | USA:NC-17 (certificate #34312) | Iceland:16 | Netherlands:16 | Australia:R | Canada:R | Chile:18 | Finland:K-16 | France:-16 | Germany:18 | Hong Kong:III | Ireland:18 | Italy:VM18 | Japan:R-18 | Norway:18 | Portugal:M/18 | South Korea:(Banned) (original rating) | South Korea:18 (cut) | Spain:18 | Sweden:15 | UK:18 | USA:R (video rating) (cut)

Emplacements De Pelliculage:

North York, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Company:

Alliance Communications Corporation

Anecdotes:

Because Vaughan's car becomes increasingly battered over the course of the film, the production required six vintage Lincolns: three for driving, one for smashing, one cut in half for studio shots and one converted into a pickup truck on which to rear mount the camera to capture driver and passenger POV's.

Goofs:

Continuity: After Vaughan repeatedly crashes the left front bumper of his Lincoln into a junker James Ballard is sitting in, causing major damage to the bumper and the lights, Vaughan is soon shown driving on the highway with no damage to the bumper and both left lights operational.

Guillemet:

James Ballard: You had sex with all those men in cars? Only in cars?
Helen Remington: Yes. I didn't plan it that way.
James Ballard: Did you fantasize that Vaughan was photographing all these sex acts as though they were traffic accidents?
Helen Remington: Yes. They felt like traffic accidents.

Connexions De Film:

Featured in David Cronenberg and the Cinema of the Extreme (1997) (TV)

dangerously erotic work that changes years after seeing it

David Cronenberg's Crash was one of those "dirty" movies I more than likely wasn't supposed to rent let alone watch when the NC-17 cut first came into existence on video (and, if anything, the film was more than an eye-opener in my young teen state, going even further than I had seen at the time with Boogie Nights or Kids). But I didn't pay quite as much attention to the story as I should've, aside from the James Dean subplot (as I remembered it anyway, with Elias Koteas's character), and from the very dark atmosphere. It was almost TOO dark at the time, and I stayed away until recently when it was shown on TV late one night. Seeing it now I'm much more absorbed into the wretchedly but totally, sensually charged work by the actors and the crew, and Cronenberg's utmost trust and professionalism with both. It certainly has that effect on a first viewing of veering way too close into the soft-core boundaries, and even seems like the kind of thing that I used to see in that 'scandalous' section of mainstream adult films as a kid like Last Tango in Paris. But the psychology behind the characters ends up being more striking than anything, and like many of Cronenberg's films, the duality of man (and woman, apparently) comes strongly into play, and the merging of the two as usually becomes the case.

James Spader is in one of his very best performances- albeit only somewhat removed from the sexual deviants of Sex Lies & Videotape and Secretary (maybe closer to the latter, however without any of that film's outright satire)- as Ballard, also the author this film is based upon. He gets in a car accident, a horrible one, that kills a doctor and leaves his wife (Holly Hunter) injured both physically and psychologically. But Ballard and his wife (Deborah Kara Unger, very good as well) get brought into this strange world that's been built around Vaughn (Koteas, perhaps in one of his top 3 best pieces of work, very creepy but somehow convincing early on, at least to his new arrivals). He is a man who is completely enveloped into his psyche of car-crash sex, and how history ends up adding a mystique to it all (hence the James Dean references, which are very amusingly pathological). But this all becomes very dangerous, if only on some subversive level, when Ballard, his wife, and Hunter's Helen Remington get involved in this underground cult.

Seeing the film again, I'm a lot more struck this time after seeing other Cronenberg work how the style slips so amazingly into the content of the picture. The first time around, the style almost seemed to be just another side to the content, that it was obvious to have such a wild yet controlled technique, particularly for the sex &/or car crash scenes. This is as much a credit to Cronenberg's poetic touches to the material as it is to DP Peter Suschitzky and Howard Shore's music, which somehow rises above being too pornographic to being really touching. In fact, after seeing it again very late at night and not remembering the entire film, I may even need to see it again to let it all sink in. But really this won't be the case for all- the NC-17 rating isn't too unwarranted in this case, even if it's more a rating for the nature of the sexual contact and aggressiveness of the fetishism as opposed to something like the Dreamers where there was blatant nudity a lot of the time. I wouldn't dare recommend the R-rated version, however, as the whole point is to see it all in its un-tarnished view. It's a harsh vision painted here of people reaching out for some kind of connection through the most destructive way imaginable. One thing's for certain, once you've seen it there's no mistaking this from Paul Haggis's Crash (and, for me, this beats out Haggis's contrived good-intention machine any day).