So in the midst of the worst heat wave I've experienced in recent memory, the germ of an idea was born. Three of the most recent films that I've watched happened to belong to the same subgenre: crawdad-lickin', Southern-fried, sweat-soaked, sleaze-o-riffic crime dramas that are ostensibly serious films– some even Oscar bait– which are packed to the brim with home-cooked soul food, unintentional camp, and some of the most hiliariously perverse material ever to be shucked out of Hollywood. So grab yer Cajun spices and hold on to your (crawdad-shaped) hats– this is gonna be a doozy!
HOT STUFF!
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