People sometimes don’t realize that Crash — Ballard’s book and Cronenberg’s film adaptation both — is first and foremost a love story. It’s a story of sharing yourself at your strongest, weakest, most depraved, most enlightened. It’s about tearing down the walls.
Crash is about acceptance and saying good bye to borders and limitations. What is that if not love?
Crash is about transforming self-destructive impulses by embracing them in their entirety. What is that if not love?
As my friend said, Ballard’s work is often about psychopathic love flooding and destroying the world to create a new, more alien one. That of course connects with Ballard’s early life experience of seeing the mushroom cloud above Hiroshima. The beautiful and the horrifying often come hand in hand - separating them leads to incompleteness.
Fuck love that binds. Fuck it until it doesn’t bind you anymore. We’re all connected and we’re all in love. And I am not even on e. This is just life experience.
This is a little of why ‘Crash’ is my favorite film, and perhaps still also my favorite book.