Louisa May Alcott changed how we and women hear their voices. Beginning in 1868, she released a semi-autobiographical work set during the Civil War focusing upon four sisters that would deservingly become an inspiration for generations of young girls. Since then, each cinematic rendering of “Little Women” has emphasized a unique set of themes. In George Cuckor’s 1933 version, released during the Great Depression and on the eve of the Second World War, frugality and moral self-sacrifice rang true. While Gillian Armstrong’s 1994 expression commanded a softer family-friendly approach—emphasizing the larger social cues of women during the period: balls and parties, and contrasting them to their aspirations.
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This newest version by Greta Gerwig beautifully paints the narrative’s integral sisterly bonds and expresses Jo’s pursuit of her dreams to modern effect. “Little Women” is ambitious and enchanting, and refreshingly renders a classic tale in non-linear fashion for a new generation of young girls everywhere.
“Little Women” remains potent a century-and-a-half later due to its memorable characters, matched equally here by a commanding cast. The domestic Meg (Emma Watson); the fiery tomboy Jo (Saoirse Ronan); quiet yet musical Beth (Eliza Scanlen) and the precocious Amy (Florence Pugh): the March sisters are the central players. Each fundamentally expresses past and future travails and strengths shared by all women. They’re supportive, self-sufficient, and determined, and are fearful of living an unrealized life unfit for their immeasurable potential. Raised with these traits by their charitable mother Marmee (Laura Dern) and their war-deployed chaplain father (Bob Odenkirk), they struggle through financial hardships, social cues, and selfish men to find their place in the world as independent women.
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To these ends, the fiercely flamboyant Jo attunes to her prospects, struggling to remain a self-employed writer while her sisters each saunter to their varying paths: Meg to marriage, Beth to sickness, and Amy to wherever the hell she pleases. Mixed into Gerwig’s enchanting adaption are the men: the tutor John Brooke (James Norton), the March’s wealthier neighbor Mr. Laurence (Chris Cooper, in an emotionally devastating but petite role), and Mr. Laurence’s grandson—the pining wooer of Jo—Theodore ‘Laurie’ (Timothée Chalamet).
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Each actor in the esteemed cast contributes exuberance and complexity. Pugh bitingly delivers hilarious barbs as the best Amy yet. Watson, even as a supporting character, still retains her ineffable star quality; while Scanlen delivers the quiet strength of Beth with natural force. And to Gerwig’s credit, she couldn’t resist pairing a couple of “Lady Bird” conspirators together again. Both Ronan and Chalamet are magically explosive. We’re just the moths to their ever-burning stars. The “Call Me By Your Name” actor capitalizes upon his unique combination of despondent attractiveness and buoyant charm. And most of all, Ronan slays. She culls the writerly ambitions of the character in ways that no actress has accomplished with such ease while still maintaining the freeing openness that her character’s inspired in any woman boxed in by the standards of apathetic men.
Gerwig seizes upon ambition too. She takes Jo’s dreams and thoughtfully reshapes them to our era, intermingling artistic rights with feminist sovereignty. In a pointed scene, the opening, Jo visits a publisher Mr. Dashwood (a dour Tracy Letts) to submit her story. Very rapidly, Dashwood: relevant to our era of still patronizing male gatekeepers, decides what parts of her imagination is worth telling—sharply and loudly striking her words from her pages and pounding the remains on his desk.
Throughout Gerwig’s weaving narrative, Jo struggles with owning her story over the powers of commerce. To own requires economic stability. And for most women, as the craggy Aunt March (Meryl Streep) accurately opines, the fight for financial independence can oft lead to serving one master or another—wealthy or wealthier men—diminishing a woman’s intellectual vitality into curtains against a wall. And in the case of Jo, the fight against conforming to profitable art can crush a writer’s passion for their craft too. Tellingly, the role of Professor Bhaer (Louis Garrel): her inspirational love interest in previous adaptations, is reduced here. Making Jo’s decision to write her story, not stoked by a man, but by the love for her sister Beth and devotion to herself—reinforcing her sovereignty. In short, Gerwig’s rendering of ‘Little Women’ is stunning and wholly modern.
If a quiver exists in her adaption it arrives in its treatment of the Civil War. Hardly any iteration has caressed the subject to the degree it should. And while Gerwig’s presentation adds two small speaking roles for Black characters: a volunteer for a soldier’s charity center and a train conductor, the grace of her film trips in their rendering, wobbling between mere visibility and actual inclusion. A blemish in an otherwise expertly crafted film.
Nevertheless, “Little Women” is tailored to exceptional detail. Gerwig displays a tremendous handle upon her composition and blocking, especially with regards to her tracking shots and slow motions for a mixture of realistic and formalistic delight. Furthermore, the lighting by cinematographer Yorick Le Saux relies upon warm tones for the past, and cold hues for the present, sketching evocative scenes of love and despair colored by time. Alexandre Desplat’s swirling yet soaring strings elegantly marry the whimsy of these women with their seriousness. And Jacqueline Durran (“Atonement” and “Pride & Prejudice“) continues as a master of period garb: tailoring a vibrant array of dresses, felt petticoats, and headwear that feels to the time yet of a timeless era.
On a macro level, Nick Houy’s editing is a breathtaking arrangement of disparate lighting and emotions in a singular journey. That journey, or the decision for a non-linear retelling of the novel over the course of 137 minutes, bravely laid fraught adaptive circles on thin ice. If only more remakes were as courageous. And while the micro over-cutting of certain sequences: when the camera could remain still and deeply inhale the emotion—does impede the narrative from grander heights—those cracks remain hidden underneath the soft blanket of poignant performances.
During the family drama’s final act—predicated upon heartbreak and love—the greatest loss of all hits: And the editing during that sequence is a portrait of craftsmanship: Gut-wrenching match cuts elevate viewers to untold anguish in possibly the best-constructed scene of the year. ‘Little Women’ fills and drains your heart, fills and drains your heart, fills and drains the heart. But the best remains the same. ‘Little Women’ lives by vitality and hope. [A-]
