Charged does not begin to describe the sexuality rampant in David Cronenberg's 1997 Crash, not to be confused with Paul Haggis' Oscar winning atrocity. A psychodrama determined to mine the bizarre sexual tendencies and amorous confusion of a half dozen characters, Crash is one of Cronenberg's most accomplished productions, certainly the most sexually complex since his superb 1988 gynecological horror film, Dead Ringers.
Sensationalist yet cold and withdrawn, the film explores the muddied waters of the modern relationship, in particular the struggles of James Spader and Deborah Kara Unger's characters, James and Catherine, to connect in bed. Initially only able to perform up to par when describing each one's affairs, after James is involved in a car crash they find themselves drawn to Helen Remington (Holly Hunter), one of the victims in the crash with a magnetic personality, and Elias Koteas' disturbed Vaughan and his transgressive reenactments of movie star automobile accidents.
Cars have always presented an inherent sexuality in cinema, but here the issue is extrapolated to cultish proportions. Vaughan proclaims his belief that car crashes represent "a liberation of sexual energy that mediates the sexuality of those who have died with an intensity impossible in any other form." Surrounded by followers determined to submerge themselves in car crash culture, Vaughan is a sort of soft-spoken, deformed leader and photographer, dangerous in his beliefs and in his ability to convince others of their reality. James and Catherine find him inexplicably attractive, and are soon unable to reverse their transformations from functional members of society to a couple addicted to the violence only achieved in vehicular collisions.
Also present is some of the best camera work Cronenberg regular Peter Suschitzky has ever done, including an incredibly difficult to conceive tracking shot repeated three times while in a moving car. The acting is all solid here, particularly in the case of Unger, who is amazingly believable while executing an escalatingly surreal performance. Cronenberg's loose adaptation of J.G. Ballard's novel plays to his strengths, focusing on the malleable nature of flesh, and the possible transformations of the human body, particularly in its interactions with modern technology.
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