'Where the Crawdads Sing' review: Solid murder mystery

A compelling story with well-drawn characters, a top-notch cast, pretty cinematography and little acknowledgment of the harsh realities of class and race — that’s the nutshell version of “Where the Crawdads Sing.” If you’ve got an itch for an entertaining murder mystery with shades of “To Kill a Mockingbird” but without the discomfiting truths, this film should scratch it.

That praise may sound fainter than intended. In fairness, “Where the Crawdads Sing,” based on Delia Owens’ bestselling novel, isn’t about race. Its heroine is a poor white girl, Kya Clark, living in the North Carolina marshlands in the 1960s. Abandoned as a child, Kya — played first by Jojo Regina and later by Daisy Edgar-Jones — grows up near-feral, mocked by townsfolk as “the Marsh Girl.” As Kya develops into a doe-like beauty, though, local boys are drawn to her. When one turns up dead, Kya becomes the prime suspect.

The movie is really about love, sex, womanhood and survival, themes that are nicely handled by screenwriter Lucy Alibar (“Beasts of the Southern Wild”) and director Olivia Newman. (This is a nearly all-female production, led by producer Reese Witherspoon, whose influential book club boosted Owens’ novel.) Kya is in some ways a backwoods version of Edgar-Jones’ sophisticated Marianne, from the limited series “Normal People” — untamable and unclaimable but, as an outsider, easy to mistreat and discard. Kya finds love first with Tate (Taylor John Smith), a college-bound kid who encourages her to publish her expert drawings of local wildlife, and then with Chase (a riveting Harris Dickinson), whose cocksure facade hides a frightening interior.

Nearly every character here is convincing, including Kya’s warmhearted lawyer, Tom Milton (David Strathairn). The exceptions are two Black store owners, Mabel (Michael Hyatt) and Jumpin’ (Sterling Macer Jr.), who take a shine to the orphaned Kya and all but adopt her. Wholly angelic, a little comedic and hardly ever inconvenienced by their color, these two are cinematic stereotypes long past their expiration date. Though they’re only minor roles, their presence makes “Where the Crawdads Sing” feel a little oblivious and fanciful, rather like the noticeably dirt-free dresses Kya somehow always manages to wear.

An uncanny shadow of truth hangs over this story: Owens, a dedicated conservationist, and her family are wanted for questioning in Zambia concerning the 1996 shooting death of a poacher there, a case that has received renewed attention as the movie’s release approaches. (The Owenses have always maintained their innocence.) That tale remains murky, but this one has the satisfying if overly polished contours of fiction.

By Rafer Guzmán

rafer.guzman@newsday.com@raferguzman