Crash and burn

Can't believe I keep getting suckered like this. In the tradition of "Mystic River" sucking so vigorously on a teat of shite, one night's Netflixing was wasted on Paul Haggis' "Crash," another overwhelmingly inept movie that never excelled beyond the point of being a pedantic fable that bludgeons the viewer over the head with deadly unsubtle "Hate Is Bad" vignettes.

For a decently-casted flick, I wondered why the talent onscreen couldn't push the finished product into "marginally good" terrain. The writing was so painfully obvious, every plot-twist being telegraphed 15 minutes before they arrive. The pacing was putrid – there were actually THREE burning car scenes, just 50 MINUTES into it. Whuhuh?

By the time Ryan Philippe's naive patrolman picks up Larenz Tate's thug hitchiking and ventilates him in the passenger seat, you'll be saying to yourself, "Hmm, that episode of Stargate: Atlantis on SciFi at 9 o'clock looked pretty good. Maybe I'll check it."

The only redeeming thing about the enterprise was Ludacris (above right). Haggis gave him the best lines, and Luda was very credible in his sophomore acting effort.