Those whose associate David Cronenberg films with excessive blood-letting will be surprised by the tameness of Crash, winner of a Cannes Film Festival award for "originality and audacity," and five Canadian film awards, including best direction and screenplay.

Based on J.G. Ballard's 1973 novel, and adapted by him for the screen, Crash is the story of young marrieds James Spader and Deborah Unger, who like sex in outré places, and are gradually drawn into a cult which finds sexual gratification in car crashes. Their leader is heavily-scarred Elias Koteas (The Prophecy), who stages re-creation of famous auto-related deaths for dozens of fans ensconced on bleachers in a parking lot.

Spader's first intro to the action follows a car accident in which he accidentally kills Holly Hunter's husband. As both look over the wreckage of their respective cars, Hunter, already a member of the cult, gets turned on and Spader is only too happy to comply.

Obvious themes are societal decadence, where sex has become an afterthought to violence, and where the number of one's body scars is itself a turn-on, as well as the idea that artistry can be found anywhere, even in head-on collisions. However, the movie is nowhere near as graphic about this stuff as it could be... which, unfortunately, applies equally well to the sex. Hunter never shows her tits, and cult member Arquette does only briefly, leaving the nudity mostly up to Unger. Fortunately, she doesn't disappoint. There's also a touch of homo-eroticism between Spader and Koteas, but all the sexual activity is fairly low-key.

Ted Turner's tastes aside, this is an art film, and still plays midnight shows in local theaters. If you think the subject will intrigue your customers, stock a few copies.