THB #186: Where the Crawdads Sing

This film makes you wish it would at least deliver on its cliches.

For me, it never rises above this. In fact, it constantly dips below the line of basic expectations for the material.

I really like Daisy Edgar-Jones. I really like David Strathairn. I am an absolute fan of Garret Dillahunt. And I am an absolute sucker for an underdog, coming-of-age, make mistake and overcome potboiler.

But I was never able to maintain my suspension of disbelief for more than a few minutes without it being broken.

I will tell you what did make my heart sing here. And I don’t think it’s a spoiler. I’ve leave it at, it’s when she has some success. I gasped when a box showed up at the house. It got me.

But that was the only time.

You couldn’t write it or cast it or direct it less effectively much of the time. Abusive parent? Yeah… but not too much. Racism in rural North Carolina? Not really… but kinda… but the rich white kids of the 50s and early 60s take direction from a black man and women without a tho…