WHERE THE CRAWDADS SING – Review

So now we’re at the mid-point of the cinematic “travel-palooza” that has taken up most of the spots at the nation’s multiplexes this Summer. Since the Marvel heroes have taken us to distant worlds and maniacal multiverses, how about something a bit closer to home, say the East Coast of the US? Oh, and for this flick let’s turn to a mainstay of movies, namely an adaptation of a very popular (still on those lists) literary best seller. To be honest I wasn’t familiar with the source material and thought it was in the “young adult” category, much like those HUNGER GAMES novels. Ah, but this is more of an “all ages” page-turner, maybe more of a “beach read” now made into a “watch”. It certainly seems to have “something for everyone” in this torrid tale of late 60’s love and murder set in North Carolina. As the story’s heroine tells us, that’s WHERE THE CRAWDADS SING (though it’s not an animated musical).

And it opens with said murder, as a group of bicycling pre-teens finds a body at the foot of a massive fire tower on a hazy evening way back in 1969. The town sheriff and his deputy make the ID. It’s Chase Andrews (Harris Dickinson) former high school football star and part of a rich prominent family. A note wasn’t found, so the death is thought to be “foul play”. The local gossip leads them to seek out the “Marsh Girl”, Kya Clark (Daisy Edgar-Jones) resulting in a speedboat pursuit ending in her arrest. As she waits in the local jail cell, Kya reflects on her life. She’s part of a family that’s lived deep in the woods, almost “hidden away” in a rickety shack. Pa Clark (Garret Dillahunt) was a boozy fisherman/trapper who pummeled his family when he wasn’t “hoisting” a bottle. His violent temper drove his wife away along with most of his kids. Finally, Kya was the only one left until he took a hike, leaving her to fend for herself. Luckily a kind local boy named Tate would visit (not knowing she was alone). And thanks to the caring couple who ran a dockside general store, she decided to try and attend the nearby grade school. But her lack of footwear earned her the March Girl label. The humiliation inspired her to hide away from the locals until now teenaged Tate (Taylor John Smith) found her and offered to mentor her. While teaching her the “three R’s”, they fell in love. When Tate was accepted into college, he promised Kya that he’d return to her. Years passed as the broken promise haunted her. So much so, that she entered into an affair with the surly Chase. When she hears of his engagement, Kya rebukes him leading to Chase stalking her and viciously attacking her. So, will she be found guilty of his death or can the “out of retirement” defense lawyer Tom Milton (David Strathairn) convince the jury of her innocence?

At the film’s center, doing a splendid job of juggling the cliches and making the overheated dialogue bearable is the talented Ms. Edgar-Jones (another Brit carrying on the tradition of Vivian Leigh by doing a “pitch perfect” Southern belle accent). She expertly conveys the “floating on air” joy of first love and the soul-crushing sorrow of heartbreak. But she also imbues Kya with a determined dignity, even as the townspeople gawk and whisper, never staying silent when the mockery begins. Smith has the thankless role of the “dream beau”, a golden-haired sensitive lad who seems plucked from the latest CW teen drama. Yes, he makes her swoon, but his flaws do help put the main mystery in motion (his excuses are pretty weak, though). The juicer role may be Chase, played with a perpetual sneer by Dickinson, the dark-haired flipside of the noble Tate. We know he’s the worst type of “break-up back-up’, but Kya is somehow unable to see it until his inner monster bares its fangs. As for the veteran co-stars, Dillahunt makes for a most menacing patriarch, but he somehow injects some humanity into Pa when he’s touched by Kya’s gift to him (perhaps this prompts his departure, trying not to snuff out her kindness). And that kindness just flows from Strathairn as the underdog lawyer we’ve seen go against the powerful in countless dramas. It’s a testament to his talent that he steers Milton away from parody and cartoonishness.

It’s a pity that the film itself quickly submerges under the murky water of Southern-fried gothic satire. We’ve led astray almost immediately as the local’s descriptions make us think that the “Marsh Girl” is a riff on the Wolf Gal of the classic Lil’ Abner newspaper comic strip, with bushy eyebrows, strategic facial smudges, and verbal skills that make NELL sound like a Havard grad. No, she’s mostly seen in simple sundresses without shoes. Speaking of costuming, her lawyer Milton is mainly seen in crisp light-colored linen suits ala Mr. A Finch, though I’m surprised he wasn’t saddled with suspenders, in order to pluck them as she says, “Now, yore’ Honor, ‘ahm jes’ a simple country defendor…”. Just a nod to many tropes including the couple running the country store who often veer dangerously into “magical minority” territory. It’s certainly a step down for screenwriter (adapting the book by Delia Owens) Lucy Alibar who gave us the really imaginative bayou fable BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD. In her second feature directing effort, Oliva Newman is able to sprinkle in a few visual flourishes that occasionally elevate this from being a “super-budget” Lifetime Cable TV tear-jerker. The glorious forest and swamp settings and the recreations of 60’s Americana (Ah, Western Auto and Piggly Wiggly) are done with skill, but then some ridiculous sequence will tarnish those bits of artistry. To put it succinctly, this is an over-heated, sudsy, soapy mess, but it can provide some amusement for those in the right frame of mind. Outside the theatre, I threw out alternate ideas and plot twists that would’ve made those 125 minutes zoom by (I imagined an Agatha Christie big courtroom reveal). The book’s readers may appreciate this, but for those who don’t get a “camp” kick out of this tale, it’s a sure bet they won’t be eager to revisit WHERE THE CRAWDADS SING. Oh, and we never hear the critters, but we know where they hang out.

One Out of Four

WHERE THE CRAWDADS SING is now playing in theatres everywhere