Synopsis: 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.
Genre: Drama
Director(s): David Cronenberg
Production: Fine Line Features
  8 wins & 4 nominations.
Rotten Tomatoes:
100 min

- We're about ready to go here.|- Good.

I'm looking for James.|Has anybody seen James Ballard?

- You know- the producer of this epic.|- I think I saw him in the camera room.


Are you in there?

Could we please get your approval|on our Steadicam shot?

Of course.

Be there in a minute.

Where were you?

In a private aircraft hangar.

Anyone could have walked in.

Did you come?


What about your camera girl?

Did she come?

We were interrupted.

I had to get back to the set.

Poor darling.

Maybe the next one.


Not a lot of action here.

They consider this|to be the airport hospital.

This ward is reserved|for air crash victims.

The beds are kept waiting.

Well, if I ground up|during my flying lesson Saturday...

you might find me next to you.

You're getting out of bed soon.

They want you to walk.

The other man-|the dead man-

his wife's a doctor.

Dr Helen Remington.

She's here somewhere,|as a patient, of course.

Maybe you'll find her in the hallway|during one of your walks.

What was her husband?

A chemical engineer|for a food company.

Where's the car?

Outside,|in the visitors car park.


- They brought the car here?|- My car, not yours.


Yours is a complete wreck.

The police had to drag it|to the pound.

It's behind the station.

After being bombarded endlessly|by road safety propaganda...

I'm almost relieved to have...

found myself|in an actual accident.

Dr Remington.

- James Ballard?|- Yes.

- Crash victim?|- Yes.

We'll deal with these later.

Both of the front wheels of their car|and the engine...

were driven back|into the driver's section.

Oh, and the floor.

Blood still marked the hood|like little streamers of black lace...

running toward|the windshield wiper cutters.

Tiny flecks were spattered|across the seat and steering wheel...

and the instrument panel was...

buckled inwards...

cracking the clock|and speedometer dials.

The cabin was deformed.

There was dust, glass...

plastic flakes everywhere inside.

The carpeting...

was damp.

It stank of blood|and other body and machine fluids.

I should've gone to the funeral.

I wish I had.

They bury the dead so quickly.

They should leave them|lying around for months.

What about his wife, the woman doctor?|Have you been to visit her yet?

I couldn't.

I feel too close to her.

I don't like the idea|of you getting into a car so soon.

I can't sit on this balcony forever.|I feel like a potted plant.

How can you drive,James?

You can barely walk.

Is traffic heavier now?

There seem to be three times as many|cars as there were before the accident.

I have to leave for work.

After this sort of thing how can people|even look at a car, let alone drive one?

I'm trying to find Charles' car.

It's not here.

Maybe the police|are still holding it.

They said it was here|this morning.

This is your car?

You might tear your glove.

I never should have come here.

I'm surprised the police|don't make it more difficult.

Were you badly hurt?|We saw each other at the hospital.

I don't want the car.

In fact, I was appalled to find|I have to pay to have it scrapped.

Can I give you a lift?

I somehow find myself|driving again.

You haven't told me|where we're going.

I haven't?

- To the airport, if you don't mind.|- The airport?

- Why? Are you leaving?|- Not yet.

Though not soon enough|for some people.

A death in the doctor's family|makes the patients uneasy.

I take it you're not wearing white|to reassure them.

I'll wear a fucking kimono|if I want to.

So, why the airport?

I work in|the immigration department.

- Do you want a cigarette?|- No.

Rate this script:(0.00 / 0 votes)


Translate and read this script in other languages:

Select another language:

  • - Select -
  • 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
  • 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
  • Español (Spanish)
  • Esperanto (Esperanto)
  • 日本語 (Japanese)
  • Português (Portuguese)
  • Deutsch (German)
  • العربية (Arabic)
  • Français (French)
  • Русский (Russian)
  • ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
  • 한국어 (Korean)
  • עברית (Hebrew)
  • Українська (Ukrainian)
  • اردو (Urdu)
  • Magyar (Hungarian)
  • मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
  • Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Italiano (Italian)
  • தமிழ் (Tamil)
  • Türkçe (Turkish)
  • తెలుగు (Telugu)
  • ภาษาไทย (Thai)
  • Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
  • Čeština (Czech)
  • Polski (Polish)
  • Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Românește (Romanian)
  • Nederlands (Dutch)
  • Ελληνικά (Greek)
  • Latinum (Latin)
  • Svenska (Swedish)
  • Dansk (Danish)
  • Suomi (Finnish)
  • فارسی (Persian)
  • ייִדיש (Yiddish)
  • հայերեն (Armenian)
  • Norsk (Norwegian)
  • English (English)

Discuss this Crash script with the community:


Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:


"Crash" STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 11 Jul 2020. <>.

We need you!

Help us build the largest writers community and scripts collection on the web!

Watch the movie trailer


The Marketplace:

Sell your Script !

Get listed in the most prominent screenplays collection on the web!

The Studio:

ScreenWriting Tool

Write your screenplay and focus on the story with many helpful features.

Thanks for your vote! We truly appreciate your support.