I'm not sure how Alan Shapiro got away with a pitch meeting that surely involved the phrase "Lolita meets Fatal Attraction," but the resulting film is about as icky as it should be. Awkwardly sexualizing a pubescent Alicia Silverstone, The Crush can only go so far in its attempt to pass an erotic thriller. To her credit, Silverstone is awesome playing crazy. She single-handedly does more for the film than all other elements combined. Cary Elwes, with a terrible American accent and a flat butt Silverstone glimpses once, isn't a convincing target for obsession. The coy, playful first act doesn't give away how far-fetched and stupid the rest of the film will be.
