Si una película logró insultar a cada persona en cada rincón del planeta, ésta fue Crash, y al parecer esta mi*rda logró ganar el Oscar a mejor película.
Most gritty movies can go 5 minutes without saying an f-bomb, but this movie can't go 10 minutes without at least mentioning racism twice. A cop gives a very thorough search: racism. An Iranian argues with a locksmith over a door: racism. A couple of black guys scare a white woman, and she talks about it after they robbed her car: racism.
Second half: horizontal thumb 6/10
We instead see most truly good scenes about different races getting along and the cinematography and music is striking, but clearly its to close everything we saw in the first half.
In the end, this best picture winner is higher than The Greatest Show on Earth and Out of Africa but lower than Kramer vs Kramer. Do know what is the only good thing about this movie, Brendan Fraser is actually in a good film.
Structurally, Crash is a resounding example of unconformity (though its rearranged chronology is an ever-growing theme and its multi-focal yarn is an age-old cliche of priggish cinema, yet not always implemented by films of such). It is likely to become the template by which many subsequent mystery/thrillers are drawn, though that wouldn't be all that bad: it hooks its audience by immediately proposing a problem to which the answer comes together, piece-by-piece, as the story -- which jumps backwards, then proceeds in real-time, ending with its opening scene -- progresses. As we the audience travel alongside the film's event timeline, our attention is maintained thoroughly by its three climaxes, which are evenly distributed within the film's last half. Yet what is unrealized by a majority of viewers is that while their emotions have been forged and manipulated by these peaks, the movie's story -- and more specifically its script (co-penned by Bobby Moresco) -- runs amok in a cesspool of racially-directed propaganda, which is grossly mistaken for morally-motivated and "necessary" exposure to the cultural/ethnic differences that set aside and bring hardship to the diverse citizens of America (or, in this particular case, Los Angeles).
Crash is a textbook example of exploitation, presented with a slew of disgustingly (and abnormally) xenophobic characters, each of whom spit bigoted slurs as if they were the letters of the alphabet. Simply put, when it tries to address intolerance (which occurs with just about every interaction -- an unfortunate truth), it is smothered rather by its own impudence, which appears more political than it does substantial. In fact, Crash is packed so tight full of asinine stereotypes that, if it exploded into a million pieces, its fragments would have enough false piety in them to supply their own feature-length pictures. The film's self-importance swallows all of its positive qualities (which admittedly are not in short supply and include winning efforts by Don Cheadle, Matt Dillon, Terrence Howard, and Michael Pena) and amasses to an indigestible cinematic experience without the uplift of conciliatory sensitivity or social spotlighting, which it almost embarrassingly thinks it embodies (and forever will, thanks to its three Oscars and national acclaim).