Where the Crawdads Sing

The PG-13-ness of Where the Crawdads Sing buffs every rough edge off this story—the abuse, the abandonment, the betrayal, the sex, and even the alleged murder. It would be better off as trash.

Edgar-Jones’ easygoing allure isn’t enough to bind Where the Crawdads Sing together, though, leaving the film a generic, dull outing.

This film is like the Instagram-influencer version of [Beasts of a Southern Wild] — a Goop post about its beautifying effects.

A flat, flair-free and uninspiring adaptation.

Like the backdrop – marsh or swamp – it’s all a bit soggy.

A fairly engrossing entertainment -- a little bit slick and doesn't go in depth into the marsh.

it unfortunately runs the original story through the Hollywood machine, rendering it a surface-level and boilerplate experience that dilutes the emotional profundity of its source material. All the while being a borderline unbearable snooze fest.

No doubt Alibar and Newman are just keeping as close as possible to the book. It is very much to their credit that they have committed so totally to giving the fans what they want without resorting to cheap fan service.

Where the Crawdads Sing makes for a decent if generic coming-of-age story and a bland murder mystery.

Try as it might, Where the Crawdads Sing amounts to nothing more than a shallow tale of otherness told through the lens of the prettiest, cleanest marsh girl you’ve ever seen.