Starring Barlow Jacobs, Robert Longstreet, and Eddie Rouse

Directed by Zack Godshall

Written by Barlow Jacobs and Zach Godshall

Low and Behold is really two separate films meshed together. The narrative piece tells the story of the naïve, straight-laced young Turner Stull (Jacobs) who comes to stay with his Uncle “Stully” (Longstreet) in New Orleans, to take advantage of the lucrative claims adjusting business during the Hurricane Katrina aftermath. Uncle Stully turns out to have profit, and little else, on the brain … that and beer. Turner has had three days of training in the business and can’t seem to measure up to Stully’s expectations after he’s set forth to ply his trade in uncharted territory. So, Turner gets yelled at and lost a lot.

But, blessing in disguise, Turner is startled by the scruffy-looking local, Nixon—played with joyful rambunctiousness by Rouse—tapping on the window of his little compact car, urging Turner to give him a lift to the park so he can search for his lost dog. Put off by his bedraggled couture, Turner evades the persistent Nixon, thinking he’s dodged a bullet. But, as luck and inexperience would have it, Turner accidentally strands himself on a client’s rooftop, with no one around to hear his calls for help. He finds himself at the mercy of the only passerby who pays him any mind. You guessed it, Nixon! He uses the opportunity to strike a bargain, and Turner agrees to let him ride along on the daily rounds to look for his dog. Turner ultimately finds the knowledgeable denizen to be a helpful companion, and the two travel the back roads of New Orleans together. This, though largely heartwarming and occasionally quite charming, is the side dish.

The real meat and potatoes of this freshman feature by Jacobs and Godshall are the interstitial real-people interviews that imbue the film with the gravitas its storytelling seems to lack. Clearly, these filmmakers are intimately familiar with the beleaguered setting in which they’ve placed their saga. They lovingly weave a soulful tapestry out of the tattered tales told with humble, yet lively, humanity by those who still remain to describe what happened when the levees broke. These clips alone could compose a respectable, touching, and eye-opening tribute to this community’s intrepid survivors.

Though the narrative has its moments, it never quite rises to the level of poignancy that the moving clips portend.