At first glance, debut writer/director Tommy Stovall’s “Hate Crime” appears to be nothing more than a frantic grab-out for the kind of attention recently earned by Oscar champ “Crash.”
This is not entirely true. However, there are many similarities between these so-called “provocative” films. “Hate Crime,” like “Crash,” is an ensemble drama about intolerance, the drama of which is constantly speckled with wry one-liners at the expense of the intolerant. The most serious and depressing similarity between “Crash” and “Hate Crime,” though, is how both films present themselves with an air of importance and bold understanding which, apparently, is designed to enlighten audiences and, ideally, inspire them to action.
While this is certainly a noble goal and indeed a goal that the art of film can accomplish (ahem, Spike Lee,) neither director Paul Haggis of “Crash” nor Stovall of “Hate Crime” is capable of doing so. Both men concoct stories that are meant to be gritty! and raw! and real! and powerful!, yet they are horribly and even offensively bogged down by cliches.
The hate crime for which “Hate Crime” is titled is the brutal, baseball-battered murder of Trey McCoy, a quietly confident homosexual. Trey is a kind, boyish fellow with casually tousled hair and a love for dogs. His partner, Robbie, is of a similar disposition, but — get this — he’s Jewish, too. So when Chris Boyd, a squinty-eyed Christian with a marine’s flat-top, moves in next door, you just know there’s gonna be a reckonin’.
It takes less than a day for the confrontations to begin, and when they do it feels about as threatening and incisive as a pillow. This is hardly a fault of the actors and actresses, who are “Hate Crime’s” most outstanding asset. The blame falls squarely on Stovall for relegating his cast to such archetypal roles. Indeed, three cheers to the cast for even trying to break out of its cookie-cutter straightjackets. Every performance is doused in sincerity, and it helps that most of the faces onscreen will be unrecognizable to mainstream audiences. This quality alone makes “Hate Crime” a more affecting film than “Crash,” simply because it does not force the audience to look past movie star egos or personas in order to connect with the characters.
Sadly, being more affective than “Crash” does not say much. While the best picture winner had plenty of jarring moments, it was mostly a manipulative and coldly contrived plea for critical redemption from Haggis, the man who began his career creating “Walker, Texas Ranger.” Thankfully, “Hate Crime” does not carry such a dreadful burden.
The final act of the film follows the homicide investigation of Trey’s murder. All the standard police procedural notes are played out, leading to a violent climax revolving around homosexual vigilantism and revenge upon those who oppress them. This is perhaps the juiciest concept in the film, but it is never remotely explored. Rather then delve into the issues of what merits righteous violence (which “Munich” did so well,) “Hate Crime” is content to throw in a lame twist ending in which one of the many Christian homophobes is revealed to be, wait for it, a closet homosexual. This revelation isn’t just beating a dead horse. This is firing cannons into a horse cemetery.
