If anyone were to attempt (I say attempt with reason) to recreate J.G. Ballard's Crash into a motion picture, of course it would be none other than the infamous David Cronenberg. Now I love a multitude of Cronenberg's films (most notably/importantly: The Fly and Videodrome), but this guy needs to realize that he just picks the wrong books to re-create. Between Crash and The Naked Lunch, Davey boy managed to pick two anti-sctructualist books with little-to-no plots.
What makes reading Crash such an amazing experience to read (although a fuck-turning-books-into-movies cliche) is being able to paint each scene in your head. Sorry to say it Dave, but watching awkward car sex on screen is not nearly as exciting as erotically reading about it. Hearing and watching Deborah Kara Unger (whose image in my head of the mom from Silent Hill refused to pass) speak of what different semen tasted like was just not doing it for me. James Spader as Ballard? Also not doing it for me. The only aspect of the film I found somewhat enlightening was Rosanna Arquette's performance, which was not enough to bring this adaptation past a three-out-of-ten.
Overall, Cronenberg: you need to learn how to pick your battles. Literature with strong plots can make meaningful movies. Generally, books lacking a strong plot create a directorial masturbation derived solely from how the director believes to the story to play out; therein almost ruining the book for the rest of us. Stick with original screenplays Croney, you're good at that.
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