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Look, I’m not stupid. Racism
is as American as apple pie and we all know it. For the most
part, no matter how much rational, intelligent people try,
there’s always gonna be one asshole who screws it up
for the rest of us. I choose to take a more optimistic approach
to the situation by looking at how much progress we, as a
society, have made, i.e., Eminem is considered to be among
the elite of the hip-hop world and Condoleeza Rice fucked
up Iraq worse than any stupid, rich white guy ever could.
Surely, it can’t all be marketing and public relations.
Or can it?
“Crash” takes a different, albeit contrived and
somewhat pessimistic view on racism by examining Los Angeles—home
of Rodney King, the Watts Riots, Mark Fuhrman, Michael Jackson,
Proposition 42, Hollywood typecasting and above all, white
chicks.
"Crash" begins as the intrepid Los Angeles District
Attorney, Rick Cabot (Brendan Frasier), and his wife (Sandra
Bullock) are car-jacked, by two young black men. The car-jacking
sends ripples throughout the community, and the movie’s
cast of characters is sucked into the plot, either actively
or passively. Among the ensemble is Daniel Ruiz (Michael Pena),
an honest latino trying to make a better life for his family,
a Persian store owner (Shaun Toub) who could snap at any minute,
the black Los Angeles police detective (Don Cheadle) caught
up in the District Attorney’s politic-ing, the black
television director (Terrence Howard) and his high-strung,
emasculating wife. Of course, the cast wouldn’t be complete
without the obligatory white racist cop played by Matt Dillon.
As a side note to Bob From Accounting, the movie also has
a Tony Danza sighting, which makes the movie totally awesome,
in a washed-up actor kind of way!
This film works because it doesn’t get mired down in
the responsibility of racism, except to say that everyone
is responsible in either overt or subtle ways (let's blame
Tony Danza). In the end, it comes down to one thing: we’re
just one people -- all of us stupid and most of whom don’t
speak English too good.
Although some people—like me—may say the movie is
a gross manipulation of the audience’s feelings through
a contrived series of events, “Crash” still has
considerable depth to its story while attempting to bring
a ray of hope to the rainbow tapestry of the citizenry in
the United States. So guess what, my peeps? Racism isn’t
just for white people anymore. And if it ain’t exclusive
to crackers, then that’s a kind of equality in and of
itself! As it turns out, we are all equals because we can
make assumptions about each other and be complete assholes
about it. It’s called Freedom of Speech, you fuckheads!
Isn’t America awesome?
The movie, at the very least, attempts to address a difficult
topic in American culture. No one wants to be labeled a racist,
and yet if we look at our day-to-day utterances and actions,
we may find we are all guilty of it. Quite frankly, I’m
tired of turning on the television and seeing white people
dancing, or acting way too uptight. While privately, I might
admit that honkies have no rhythm and that we are a little
obtuse, I don’t need CNN shoving it down my throat by
covering the Hillbilly Barn Dance Festival at a trailer park
in Alabama. What about Stevie Ray Vaughan? He had tons of
soul, by golly!
At its best, “Crash” offers a glimpse into our perceptions
and their accuracy. From now on, when a homeless dude curses
at me, then follows me down the street while yelling at me,
grabbing his crotch, and demanding that I give him a dollar,
I won’t tell him to fuck off because he’s black,
Latino, white, Jewish, Asian or a homosexual. I’ll tell
him to fuck off because he’s an asshole. So in the end,
“Crash” made me think a little, and that’s
not a bad thing. It just made my head hurt.
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Above:
Matt Dillon as a racist cop in "Crash"
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