There are so many movies I saw this year that I liked better than “Crash.” Two of them, “Capote” and “Brokeback Mountain,” were also nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars. The latter specifically exemplifies a movie with what could be called an “important message,” but which is first and foremost a work of art. In “Crash,” all artistry is drowned out by the unsubtle drone of a valuable lesson.
In the didactic spirit of “Grand Canyon,” “Crash” sheds light on the nasty, racist human soul through the preposterously coincidental encounters of a series of stereotypical, one-dimensional characters in Los Angeles. For something like two days, none of these people seem to have a single conversation or perform a single action that isn’t racially motivated.
An affluent black couple is molested by a racist cop; a sweet Hispanic guy is repeatedly demeaned for his race and his tattoos. Sandra Bullock is stuck-up; Don Cheadle is quietly outraged. Terrence Howard is good looking (that’s not really a plot point; I was just trying to balance the review with some positive comments.) Then, all these lives intersect in ways that are, like one of the film’s many stars, Ludacris.
We don’t really care about any of the characters, except a cute little girl who is awarded the movie’s biggest unbelievable plot twist (no small accomplishment), because they are given nothing close to real personalities and they are all despicable to boot. The fact that they are all despicable seems to be the point; all of the characters have within themselves racism and compassion. So, in the end, the filmmaker gets off without really judging anyone. Not that I care about that so much as I do the fact that for me it didn’t function or succeed as a film; I found it as subtle and moving as an after-school special.
This year’s Academy Award winner for Best Picture, “Crash” is currently available to rent.
“Proof” is most noteworthy for me in that I didn’t bristle at the appearance of Anthony Hopkins. I will not go into my lengthy ramblings on talented but grossly overexposed actors here. Let me just say that I have invented a rehabilitation camp for actors who only play themselves, and it bears Hopkins’ name. Jack Nicholson, you know what I’m talking about.
However, Hopkins gives a lively and moving performance in “Proof” as Gwyneth Paltrow’s once-brilliant mathematician father. Their loving, difficult relationship as she spends her young life caring for him when he loses his mind is well-played and the heart of this simple-but-effective film. Based on David Auburn’s Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award-winning play, the movie version maintains a delicacy and intimacy that could have easily suffered from the weird stuffy feeling you sometimes get from movies that are based on plays. However, this film works.
The supporting roles are very important in a film as succinct as this; Hope Davis is perfect as Paltrow’s well-organized, controlling older sister, while Jake Gyllenhaal is, as always, likeable as the love interest. The plot revolves around their fight for control of a mathematically earth-shattering proof discovered by Gyllenhaal among Hopkins’ papers. It is also a struggle for Paltrow’s control over her own mind and her own life.
Something about this film and this story was just the right size for what it is, and as such it succeeded effortlessly. The issues were surmountable, the characters were effectively developed and the story, therefore, rang true. Despite, or perhaps because of, its modest nature, the film boasts moments of revelation that are profound, honest and entirely memorable.
“Proof” is currently available to rent.
Contact Asia Frey at afrey@lagniappemobile.com.
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