Where the Crawdads Sing: Movie Review

Cast: Daisy Edgar-Jones, Harris Dickinson, Taylor John Smith, David Straithairn, Sterling Mercer Jr, Garrett Hedlund
Director: Olivia Newman

The handsomely-shot Where the Crawdads Sing presents somewhat of a moral quandary for fans of its source material - and for casual viewers of the murder-mystery genre.

Set in the US marshlands, and swapping back via differing timelines, the adaptation of Delia Owens' New York Times bestseller concentrates itself on Marsh Girl aka Kya (Normal People's Edgar-Jones) and her trial for the murder of local football hero Chase Andrews (Dickinson), after he's found dead at the bottom of a firetower in the middle of the marshes.

Flitting as it does between timelines, from Kya's childhood which was littered with the violent domestic abuse from her father to her later life which is ruined by accusations, gossip and slander from the North Carolina townsfolk, Where the Crawdads Sing meshes together A Time To Kill's southern sensibilities with traditional young adult fare.

But the end result isn't always thoroughly satisfying, nor engaging. At times, it verges on the corny, preferring to show scenes of shirtless lovers against backdrops of schools of birds flying off - and then other times, the film wants to be a gritty drama that handles rape, abuse and ongoing domestic violence all at once. Yet somehow, it manages never to quite juggle the sensibilities well enough to feel cohesive or dark enough when it needs to.

None of this is the fault of Edgar-Jones, who makes for a compelling heroine, even if she does feel like she's stealing from Jodie Foster's Nell as she tries to stay mute throughout. Nor is it the fault of Straithairn, who as a kindly lawyer steals the film and makes you yearn for more of this venerable actor in a spin-off series. If anything, it's in the writing that Where the Crawdads Sing doesn't soar.

By remaining in the boggy narrative marshes and not choosing to take one side or another, the film floats and wafts by when it could have been a searing indictment of southern American racism, stereotyping and gossiping villagers. 

Instead, what Where the Crawdads Sing is, is a film that feels like a young adult movie trying but failing to find its own identity. There's no complexity and nuance here where there should be, and the screen cries out for it, relying instead on voiceover, flashbacks and plot lurches to make it sing.