On the Crawdads Sing is the kind of tedious moral fantasy that feeds the wrong idealism of the United States. It is an attempt at a complex story about rejection, difference, and survival. But the film, like the novel on which it is based, eludes the problems — of race, genre, and class — that would texture its narrative and strengthen its broad thesis, leading to a story that tells more about how whiteness works in a society allergic to interdependence. which it does not do about how communities fail young people.
Directed by Olivia Newman (First Match), the film adaptation of the popular and controversial novel of the same name by Delia Owens tells the remarkable story of a shy and lonely girl raised in the wetlands of North Carolina who is wrapped in a scary police investigation. . Her name is Kya (Daisy Edgar-Jones of normal people, cool and under the banner of heaven), but for those in the neighboring town, whose residents abhor her, she is known simply as “Marsh Girl “. The story of his life is remarkable because it requires such a powerful suspension of disbelief, a total abandonment of logic, and a total submission to the daily rhythms of this story.
Where the Crawdads sing
The bottom line A confused moral fantasy.
Release Date: Friday, July 15 Cast: Daisy Edgar-Jones, Taylor John Smith, Harris Dickinson, Michael Hyatt, Sterling Macer, Jr., David Strathairn Director: Olivia Newman Screenwriter: Lucy Alibar Based on the novel by: Delia Owens
Classification PG-13, 2 hours 5 minutes
Since its publication in 2018, Owens ’novel has garnered rabid praise and strong criticism. Reese Witherspoon, one of the film’s producers, turned it into her Book Club election in September of that year, and so far 12 million copies have been sold. Fans of Where the Crawdads Sing often admire her beatific descriptions of Kya’s world and the ostensibly fascinating narrative of a girl abandoned and disappointed by almost everyone in her life.
Those less enchanted by the style and glorification of hyperindependence have pointed to Owens’s troubling treatment of black characters, the smells of classism in their use of the dialect, and the strange connections between the novel and the alleged participation of Owens in a televised murder of the 1990s. of a poacher in Zambia. This last story in particular reveals worrying levels of white Salvadoranism and condescension towards African countries. That Owens, already known before the novel, has managed to build an even more successful career despite the details of his resurgent past is disconcerting.
Where the problems of the Crawdads Sing go back to the original material. The story, adapted for the screen by Lucy Alibar (Beasts of the Southern Wild), opens with the murder of Chase Andrews (Harris Dickinson), a beloved resident of the fictional town of Barkley Cove. Police stumble upon his body in the swamp and, after scanning the perimeter at random, declare him a homicide.
City residents, a critical and gossipy group, rush to point the finger at Kya, a lonely naturalist who has lived in the surrounding wetlands for 25 years. After the police arrest Kya (she tries to escape, but fails, on the green and grassy ground), they send her to jail. Tom Milton (David Strathairn), a local lawyer who has known Kya since he was a barefoot boy, decides to represent the young woman.
The film, shot admirably by DP Polly Morgan, combines scenes of a nervous Kya in court with flashbacks of her past. From time to time, Kya, through the voice-over, includes additional details about her relationships and feelings towards other people. The first flashback takes us back to 1953, where photographs of the marsh, colored by a warm, vivid palette, are interrupted by the gray, faint reality of Kya’s education. He is one of five children who, in addition to his mother (Ahna O’Reilly), are abused by his alcoholic and temperamental father (Garret Dillahunt). One by one, starting with her mother, Kya’s family members leave the swamp. It is never explained why none of them try to take the little one with them.
This hole in the plot leaves room to invent a situation in which Kya, whose father is also leaving, lives alone in her small family home which is on acres of wetland. It also allows the film to establish what Kya’s most important connection will be: her relationship with the black couple who own a local grocery store, Mabel (Michael Hyatt) and Jumpin ’(Sterling Macer, Jr.). .
Kya, with the help of this couple, which is not surprising, manages to build a life together. He wakes up at dawn to harvest mussels, which he sells to Jumpin ‘in exchange for provisions. Mabel teaches her to count, gives her sweets and sews her beautiful dresses (a look here at the good work of costume designer Mirren Gordon-Crozier). From time to time, Kya has to dodge child services and hawk developers.
Although Where the Crawdads Sing wants to highlight Kya’s hyperindependence, she survives with the help of Mabel, Jumpin ’, and finally Tate Walker (Taylor John Smith). Tate, a shy, blond-haired, blue-eyed boy from the city, leaves Kya a few seeds, teaches her to read and write, and encourages her gift for identifying and drawing shells, insects, plants, and swamp animals. Their relationship evolves slowly, in the manner of a teenage novel with a predictable plot.
Kya is a bewildered figure considering the twists the film makes; for someone the survival skills and instincts are telegraphed repeatedly, it seems dangerously naive. Jojo Regina, who plays Kya as a child, and Edgar-Jones, who plays her as a young man, try to make sense of her, but her performances can’t overcome the inconsistencies of what’s on the page.
More flashbacks (1953, followed by 1962 and after 1968) show us how Kya’s relationship with the world outside the swamp changes. Learn to love and trust. Her heart breaks: Edgar-Jones ’most impressive scene is when Kya, realizing she’s been abandoned again, breaks on the beach. Morgan’s dexterity with lighting is evident here, and it would be negligent not to mention the beauty of the film, shot in one place in the thick swamps of Louisiana.
Over the years, Kya begins to believe more in herself. She becomes less reserved, finds new ways to share her talent with the world and make more money. She even falls in love again. He combines this adult arc with the courtroom scenes (which take place in 1969) and Where the Crawdads resembles a strange fusion of a film by Nicholas Sparks, The Help and To Kill a Mockingbird. But while the last two examples contained a bit of racial awareness, Where the Crawdads Sing is largely devoid of that.
Narration depends largely on racial and gender stereotypes and class thinking to function. Mabel and Jumpin exist to help Kya survive. Kya’s beauty and delicacy are so overly emphasized that she is more of a manic dream girl than a misanthropic protagonist. There is an over-reliance on timely bombs to keep us distracted. For many people, Where the Crawdads Sing played an emotional chord, but it’s worth considering what to ignore to get there.