After getting into a serious car accident, a TV director discovers an underground sub-culture of scarred, omnisexual car-crash victims who use car accidents and the raw sexual energy they produce to try to rejuvenate his sex life with his wife.
After developing an addiction to the substance he uses to kill bugs, an exterminator accidentally kills his wife, and becomes involved in a secret government plot being orchestrated by giant bugs in a port town in North Africa.
Riding across Manhattan in a stretch limo in order to get a haircut, a 28-year-old billionaire asset manager's day devolves into an odyssey with a cast of characters that start to tear his world apart.
Since a road accident left him with serious facial and bodily scarring, a former TV scientist has become obsessed by the marriage of motor-car technology with what he sees as the raw sexuality of car-crash victims. The scientist, along with a crash victim he has recently befriended, sets about performing a series of sexual acts in a variety of motor vehicles, either with other crash victims or with prostitutes whom they contort into the shape of trapped corpses. Ultimately, the scientist craves a suicidal union of blood, semen, and engine coolant, a union with which he becomes dangerously obsessed.Written by
Matt A. Knapp <email@example.com>
In the novel by J.G. Ballard from which this film derives, Vaughan's goal is to achieve sexual climax by crashing his car into the limo of Elizabeth Taylor and gruesomely killing her, a plot item not retained (obviously) for the film. See more »
After Vaughan repeatedly crashes the left front bumper of his Lincoln into a junker James Ballard is sitting in, causing major damage to the bumper and the lights, Vaughan is soon shown driving on the highway with no damage to the bumper and both left lights operational. See more »
The car crash is a fertilizing rather than a destructive event.
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In Vaughan's car, with the prostitute, there are three shots, with the camera panning from Ballard's face (driving) to the sexual practices on the back seat. The first two shots end showing Vaughan manually stimulating the prostitute and the third one with him pulling her on top of him before some sexual movement. On the censored version there's almost only shots of Ballards face, and only a bit of the final shot is shown. See more »
The more boring a movie is, the more crucial it is that there be a story: it may not relieve the boredom, but it will at least provide the viewer with a way of telling when it will end. Alas, there's no story here. Nor is there any reason for it to end at one point rather than another - except, of course, that the sooner, the better.
I don't mind using the premise that there's an underground coterie of sick weirdos who find car crashes sexually arousing, who trade crash test video porn, etc., but in describing the scenario with those nineteen words I've done only slightly less towards making a good movie out of it than Cronenberg did. I suspect the REASON there's no story is also the reason that none of these people have any kind of life at all - no work, no play - outside their shared fetish, and that they don't utter so much as a single line of dialogue (not even a "nice weather we're having") that doesn't relate directly to it. Cronenberg simply couldn't be bothered with all that stuff. If he can cut directly to the subject matter and show us the car crash fetishists being car crash fetishists, why should he bother showing us anything else? To avoid making a movie as unbearably tedious as this one, that's why.
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