Fifty-sixty minutes and a few seconds into CRAWFOOT, the cinematic panache and derring-do of Director Micheal Day and Writer April Wolfe stunned this reviewer-writer who thought that for the first for 56-minutes and a few seconds that he was watching some kind of eerie parody with lame smudges here and there of a slap-sticking soap opera or something in that ballpark.
I was wondering just how much more I was willing to watch, that maybe it was time to take a break when the sudden Kaboom-segue struck like a thunderbolt. There were film reviewers and critics who didn’t take to CRAWFOOT the way I eventually did … but that’s on those critics and pundits.
The cinematic panache and derring-do in practically every phase of filmmaking for this beast of a movie was astonishing. If I had paid more attention early on to CLAWFOOT’s iMDB page when I was warming up to write a review, I wouldn’t have been so astonished.
I think the online synoptic plot lines in various publicity and promotion snippets had a lot do with that surprise, like this one: “A housewife, Janet, played by Francesca Eastwood, is psychologically terrorized by a manipulative contractor, leading to a twisted battle of wits with deliciously unexpected results.” Twisted battle of wits? Unexpected results?
And this one: “In this indie thriller, Francesca Eastwood stars as an upper-class housewife tormented by a manipulative contractor, Leo played by Milo Gibson, hired to remodel her bathroom. Joining forces with her best friend, Tasha played by Olivia Culpo, they turn the tables on him and ignite a twisted battle of wits with deliciously unexpected outcomes.”
Francesca Eastwood’s Janet cutting loose, swinging away.
What seemed to be at first a sudden audacious segué from the publicized plot line information about a thriller involving two filthy rich housewives (one with kids), who go toe-to-toe, mano a mano with an irksome macho-strutting blue-collar handyman in a cinematic slam dunk of a movie with panoramic swells of phantasmagorical and cosmic bedlam scenes. It was like what I had been watching was the equivalent of a souped up, soapy daytime soap opera until then that transitional moment and things began unfolding on the screen almost faster than I could assimilate them into my conscious, sub-conscious and unconscious.
Above, one of several Walter Mitty-esque fantasy scenes. Whose fantasy this one? CRAWFOOT is now on several streaming platforms. WORD patrons should select one, kick back and get ready to find out – and they better prepare to strap in for a wild, wild ride.
Publisher, Editor Gregg W. Morris
Gregg W. Morris can be reached at gregghc@comcast.net, profgreggwmorris@gmail.com