Sexual Arrangement: Two survivors of a car accident begin to have sex, but only inside cars.
In the Sigmund Freud sort of way, the automobile-specific trysts seen in director David Cronenberg’s erotically demented Crash are unhealthy. The collision of James Spader’s and Holly Hunter’s rides kills her husband, so how does Hunter react? She forgets about mourning and starts banging the other driver. The wrecks triggers something dysfunctional inside Spader and Hunter, and their now-twisted urges relegate their sexual encounters to the setting that united them: car interiors. Screw Siggy Freud, though; that’s a pretty sweet arrangement, if you ask us. Just ponder it for a second: road-head, roomy backseats, ass-warming front seats. The possibilities are endless.