I was at a screening of Where the Crawdads Sing, where I saw eight middle-aged women file in together buzzing with anticipation. The person I was with, who knows about such things, said automatically, “book club.”

And it seems that’s the intended audience for this film, with the rarely appealed to “older woman” audience — which makes up the majority of the book club population — boosting the box office stats to healthier numbers than anyone would figure who’s read the annihilating reviews.

The best-selling novel was promoted by Reese Witherspoon’s own influential book club, before she got the rights and produced the movie. So you can imagine book clubs all over the country, first avidly reading the 2018 Della Owens novel of the same name, then hurrying off to watch the faithful film adaptation. And then, judging by the comments I overheard as we crossed the lobby to the exits, exclaiming to anyone within hearing range, “I loved it — it was beautiful — I cried at the end!” My reaction was somewhat different.