But I think the film actually does more to assuage white guilt than anything else. “Everybody’s gotta hate somebody.” So when all of a sudden, a film with that worldview starts to have this series of snowy epiphanies, it’s dishonest, to me. This also plays into how the film is so ridiculously contrived to form some kind of racist paper chain, with the characters as nothing more than thin layers of whatever point the story needs to make at that very second. Like how Ludicris can be walking down the street illustrating a hot-button racial/political issue, and then here comes Sandra Bullock ready and willing to play a real-life visual aid to said issue. The writing itself is a problem in that it’s too blunt and obvious.

This totally sums up my problem with Crash. I walked out wondering what had just happened, and liked it less and less the more I thought about it. It’s just so easy.

Meanwhile, even if you discount Brokeback, which was lovely and totally didn’t have a political agenda, there’s Good Night and Good Luck and Capote, both of which were smart and rich in nuance and didn’t talk down to the viewers. I like Capote more the more I think about it, whereas the more I think about Crash, the more confused I get about what Haggis was trying to do.

(Also, as Alex recently pointed out to me Paul Haggis = creator, Walker, Texas Ranger. There’s totally a joke about roundhouse kicking racism here, but I should get to bed.)