Where the Crawdads Sing. Movie Review.

This viewer considers himself relatively on the ball in terms of potential big releases on the horizon theatrically. That said the level of somewhat astroturfed feeling of supposed anticipation for Where The Crawdads Sing blindsided him a little bit. The trailer looked fine. It’s sold as a fairly melodramatic mystery thriller with the level of attempted atmosphere and the cosine of Taylor Swift that will get her army of fans in the door regardless of what the content of the final film is. As a huge fan of the Normal People TV adaptation, it’s also interesting to see what kind of Hollywood careers Daisy Edgar Jones and Paul Mescal will have going forward. It was only until the week beforehand this watcher also realised this was the latest publishing sensation to saunter its way onto the silver screen. So that’s why it’s theoretically treated like some form of mid-tier blockbuster? The question is as someone not familiar with the source material how is the film?
Odd and mostly rather boring. There’s enough differentiation between the two timeline narrative structure that makes them distinctive enough. That said both the back storytelling the fable-like tale of a Carolina marsh girl ( Edgar Jones) and the murder she eventually gets caught up in suffer from a lot of the same problems. The screenplay is far too reliant on hokey melodrama to sell any of the potential heft the narrative appears to be going for. It’s like reading the diary entries of an overeager middle schooler’s attempt to be deep. Edgar Jones does her best with the material she’s given but her performance seems far too overqualified for this level of the problem Then the much darker elements of the story smash in. They may cause audiences to momentarily wake up from the sense of mild drowsiness those not already enamoured with this story will likely go through. That said they are such an awkward fit with the sort of film that otherwise seemed built for unthreatening middle age aged wine moms to go and see following a discussion of the source material. The tonal clash is so violent that this author ended up not being sure who the full package was really for.

Then there’s the legal drama. The sort of sleepy courtroom fare that any sane viewer will have seen a million times before. As with the flashbacks it’s elevated by Edgar Jones and David Statheren showing that they would be capable of so much more with better material. Nevertheless, they tried their best but are effectively unable to raise the legal scenes effectively above a potential cure for insomnia. Much is there is stuff to discuss in this review the entire 128-minute experience is the worst kind of boring. One has to give some credit for the performances for being better than they should be given the screenplay. That said this is the sort of film not distinctly recommendable to anyone unless they have a pre-built relationship with the source material.
Aside from the moments where the injection of darker material comes across as unbelievably awkward Where the Crawdads Sing is the blandest kind of mediocrity. There’s enough quality acting to raise the film above the level of entirely irredeemable. Unfortunately purely from this viewer’s experience with the film, there’s nothing here to suggest why the source material caught on in the way it did. Unless one is predisposed to like the style of narrative there’s nothing in here new viewers won’t have seen before. Given the increasing lack of prime theatrical only initial post-pandemic releases that’s a real shame.
4/10.

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