Crash
February 13th, 2006
by Hermione Pen
American
Crossroads
If each of us were merely the personification of a vehicle, then Henry Ford would not be happy with how things have progressed. The roads are populated with human versions that come in a rainbow of colors. Crash, a film by Paul Haggis, is an ensemble drama that follows the journeys of a dozen or so Angelenos, snarled in a traffic jam of proportions that rival the 405 at rush hour.
Bookending (or should I say front- and rear-ending) the film is the scene of an accident. With clues and debris strewn about Don Cheadle as detective Graham Waters, investigates the cause of the wreckage. This is the safest we'll feel over the next 100 minutes as nearly each person we meet eventually jumps the curb to a conclusion that spins their frustration with life further out of control.
Flashing back through the day before, we traverse the landscape of contemporary urban Los Angeles, itself a society at the boiling point in the ethnic melting-pot experiment that is America, in its 221st year. From our eye-in-the-sky position, characters at first appear flat and two-dimensional at best, simple stereotypes like symbols on a map. Then from a different view, the topography begins to reveal texture and range. No one is just good, or just bad, but a curious mixture of the two. As much as our knees tend to jerk in only black, or white, there actually are a lot of other shades inciting reflection.
From the affluent white housewife and the buppie television executive, to the first-gen Persian convenience shop owner and the throwback cracker cop, the participants in Crash represent models of humanity manufactured carefully to specification at the factory, now at various stages of wear and tear, replete with the inevitable dents and scratches incurred along their routes. Some attempt to hide evidence of their higher or harder mileage with a hand-rubbed polish, others with Bondo and a cheap paint job. But under the Armor-All each of this hard-driven lot is rendered inoperable due to the high rate of self-absorption at in which they travel.
On the surface, Crash shows a grid of intersecting stories that deal with racial themes. Black and white may offer the highest contrast, but Crash also explores how racism, or better—cultural prejudice, can skew our point of view and shade the way we perceive and treat women, the elderly, teens, the poor, and yes, even the "rich." People in the film tend to live down to the expectations of others, thereby confirming their initial assumptions. Yet the harsh but valid message is that the disrespect we have for others is but a manifestation of the loathing and dissatisfaction we have for ourselves.
Opposing attitudes, like particles of matter, can't occupy the same space at the same time without a collision. There has to be some form of compromise. Realistically, the film portrays the fact that we may actually not have much in common with other folk, and it is those differences that terrify us. To be sure, there is some commonality, however small: at their core, these people believe they are right in their perspectives-- yet are able to change if inspired to give it enough thought. That change does comes at a price, most often that of leaving something behind. If the mind can be opened, one can see that it's easier to move around with less baggage.
Values may be a composite of culture, but if you believe in Free Will, we are not simply the sum of our past experiences. We can choose where we go from here. The characters in Crash are more often than not, given second chances to deal with their perceived demons. At every crossroad, every turn, they choose the direction to take. Some take the road less traveled, some play a dangerous game of chicken, and some make U-turns.
Like the stereotypical "man who won't stop to ask for directions," people don't like being told what to do, especially by someone they consider to be the "opposition." Crash suggests that a more satisfying way to solve problems within cultural niches is for those within the culture to manage themselves—that being your brother's keeper should be strongly encouraged, but keep it in the (cultural) family.
The intersection of diverse lives may at first seem too neatly choreographed, but far from resorting to the deus ex machina that pops up in most Hollywood fodder, Haggis uses the connections for convenience and economy. Greek myths, the most enduring stories the world has known, are riddled with recurring characters, coincident, and overlapping story lines, but were presented as parables for the sake of metaphor, or to teach a lesson. Modern folk go to movies for identification and resolution—to observe the actions of others who share questions or problems similar to ours. We are forever optimistic that the characters will make the right decisions. And when they don't, we can sit back in the safety of our own tinted-windowed, safety belted, reinforced radialed, air-bagged selves and thank God our own near misses didn't kill us.
It's human nature to slow down and rubber-neck when we see the results of a crash on the highway. Perhaps this is nature's built-in way to have us take personal note of the dangers of driving recklessly through life.
If each of us were merely the personification of a vehicle, then Henry Ford would not be happy with how things have progressed. The roads are populated with human versions that come in a rainbow of colors. Crash, a film by Paul Haggis, is an ensemble drama that follows the journeys of a dozen or so Angelenos, snarled in a traffic jam of proportions that rival the 405 at rush hour.
Bookending (or should I say front- and rear-ending) the film is the scene of an accident. With clues and debris strewn about Don Cheadle as detective Graham Waters, investigates the cause of the wreckage. This is the safest we'll feel over the next 100 minutes as nearly each person we meet eventually jumps the curb to a conclusion that spins their frustration with life further out of control.
Flashing back through the day before, we traverse the landscape of contemporary urban Los Angeles, itself a society at the boiling point in the ethnic melting-pot experiment that is America, in its 221st year. From our eye-in-the-sky position, characters at first appear flat and two-dimensional at best, simple stereotypes like symbols on a map. Then from a different view, the topography begins to reveal texture and range. No one is just good, or just bad, but a curious mixture of the two. As much as our knees tend to jerk in only black, or white, there actually are a lot of other shades inciting reflection.
From the affluent white housewife and the buppie television executive, to the first-gen Persian convenience shop owner and the throwback cracker cop, the participants in Crash represent models of humanity manufactured carefully to specification at the factory, now at various stages of wear and tear, replete with the inevitable dents and scratches incurred along their routes. Some attempt to hide evidence of their higher or harder mileage with a hand-rubbed polish, others with Bondo and a cheap paint job. But under the Armor-All each of this hard-driven lot is rendered inoperable due to the high rate of self-absorption at in which they travel.
On the surface, Crash shows a grid of intersecting stories that deal with racial themes. Black and white may offer the highest contrast, but Crash also explores how racism, or better—cultural prejudice, can skew our point of view and shade the way we perceive and treat women, the elderly, teens, the poor, and yes, even the "rich." People in the film tend to live down to the expectations of others, thereby confirming their initial assumptions. Yet the harsh but valid message is that the disrespect we have for others is but a manifestation of the loathing and dissatisfaction we have for ourselves.
Opposing attitudes, like particles of matter, can't occupy the same space at the same time without a collision. There has to be some form of compromise. Realistically, the film portrays the fact that we may actually not have much in common with other folk, and it is those differences that terrify us. To be sure, there is some commonality, however small: at their core, these people believe they are right in their perspectives-- yet are able to change if inspired to give it enough thought. That change does comes at a price, most often that of leaving something behind. If the mind can be opened, one can see that it's easier to move around with less baggage.
Values may be a composite of culture, but if you believe in Free Will, we are not simply the sum of our past experiences. We can choose where we go from here. The characters in Crash are more often than not, given second chances to deal with their perceived demons. At every crossroad, every turn, they choose the direction to take. Some take the road less traveled, some play a dangerous game of chicken, and some make U-turns.
Like the stereotypical "man who won't stop to ask for directions," people don't like being told what to do, especially by someone they consider to be the "opposition." Crash suggests that a more satisfying way to solve problems within cultural niches is for those within the culture to manage themselves—that being your brother's keeper should be strongly encouraged, but keep it in the (cultural) family.
The intersection of diverse lives may at first seem too neatly choreographed, but far from resorting to the deus ex machina that pops up in most Hollywood fodder, Haggis uses the connections for convenience and economy. Greek myths, the most enduring stories the world has known, are riddled with recurring characters, coincident, and overlapping story lines, but were presented as parables for the sake of metaphor, or to teach a lesson. Modern folk go to movies for identification and resolution—to observe the actions of others who share questions or problems similar to ours. We are forever optimistic that the characters will make the right decisions. And when they don't, we can sit back in the safety of our own tinted-windowed, safety belted, reinforced radialed, air-bagged selves and thank God our own near misses didn't kill us.
It's human nature to slow down and rubber-neck when we see the results of a crash on the highway. Perhaps this is nature's built-in way to have us take personal note of the dangers of driving recklessly through life.
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