2019’s Little Women,
written and directed by Greta Gerwig.
Starring Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Florence Pugh, Eliza
Scanlen, Timothée Chalamet, Laura Dern, Chris Cooper, Meryl Streep, Bob
Odenkirk, Tracy Letts, Louis Garrel, and Jayne Houdyshell.
What is it about?
Set just after the civil war in the Eastern United States,
the 4 March sisters of Jo (Saoirse Ronan), Meg (Emma Watson), Amy (Florence
Pugh), and Beth (Eliza Scanlen) begin to come of age. Raised by their mother,
Marmee (Laura Dern) and housekeeper Hannah (Jayne Houdyshell), while their
father (Bob Odenkirk) is away recovering from sickness, the girls grow into
women, making a living in a patriarchal world, and attracting attention from
suitors such as Laurie (Timothée Chalamet) and Friedrich (Louis Garrel). Time
draws on, and the girls learn lessons about life and how their choices impact
their futures.
Why is it worth seeing?
Full confession- I haven’t read the source
material, the 1868 titular novel by Louisa May Alcott, or seen the (many)
previous adaptations (and sequels). They didn’t really appeal, in terms of feeling
excessively starched like the majority of Victorian era works, or overly
treacly in the spirit of made for TV movies. Interesting then, that after I
read Roger Ebert’s review of the 1994 film adaptation, he seemed to feel
similar coming into that film version-
but he expressed his surprise at how much he came to care for the characters,
and at the skill in which the story was told. This brings me full circle to a very
similar feeling after watching this
version.
Starting with the basics- the characters of the March family, with the matriarch of Marmee (an excellent Laura Dern), oldest sister Meg (Emma Watson, the weak link of the bunch), headstrong Jo (a fiery but vulnerable Saoirse Ronan), cerebral Amy (an incredible Florence Pugh), and youngest sibling, Beth (Eliza Scanlen), with potential appearances by Father March (an initially difficult to take seriously Bob Odenkirk), are just such nice and good natured people. They get along fabulously with their neighbours, whatever the obscenely rich and pleasant Mr. Laurence (a refreshingly open hearted Chris Cooper) and his grandson (a dashing Timothée Chalamet), or the dirt poor family down the road that they risk their lives to help out. It’s the stuff the bible talks about, that not as many Christians emulate as you’d like to think. Even perfect strangers are touched by the family’s kindness, given without ulterior motive or thought of return. It’s tough to not be touched by the lengths the family, hardly wealthy themselves (although not as poor as they constantly claim to be), go to help their fellow man. It’s the family’s source of strength, in their commitment to others and ironclad bonds to one another, that is an inspiration to anyone who’s ever had a family.
While the film definitely has its moments of sweetness, it’s hardly a Hallmark production- those noxious paint by numbers’ works bearing minimal tethering to reality. Outside of the girls’ bubble of compassion, and carefree ways of young teenager-dom, lie a cruel, unjust, and indifferent world. With the film’s setting taking place after the conclusion of the civil war, we see a country clearly rocked by the death and destruction that occurred in the war’s wake, with sickness of those present and ghosts of those past lingering throughout the countryside. But beyond that milieu of death and loss, there exists a society of that age (perhaps still?), that doesn’t value women- except as objects and property. We see that in the film’s iconic opening shot, where Jo prepares mentally to talk with a publisher about buying her writings. With the sexism so internalized it’s barely noticed, we see the publisher (another solid turn by the great Tracy Letts) simultaneously looking down on her, giving advice on the kind of limited writings acceptable for mass consumption, and trying to exploit her. We see that theme again, in the film’s many conversations regarding marriage. Fuelled by independently wealthy paternal Aunt March (a walk on by the incomparable Meryl Streep)’s thoughts on a woman’s lot in life, the limits of a woman being able to sustain a family, never mind operate with a degree of independence and suffrage, are portrayed with degrees of realistic starkness. Even the choice of having a family or not, bears consequences.
Those consequences, told so nimbly by Gerwig, never seems to scream at you or hit you over the head with a hammer of obviousness. One character announces a baby has died- with the family too busy with their own concerns to respond to the normalized (of the time) tragedy. It’s also helped by the decision to have fragmented story telling, with her script darting back and forth throughout time, showing the girls’ in younger, more carefree times, and a present where the pangs of time have caught up to the ladies. Characters such as Jo, with her indomitable will, announce they won’t allow fate to take its course (one of my favourite scenes of the year)- an impression, amongst many others, ripe for reexamination.
But the movie’s greatest strength is that in a film packed with feeling, is how Gerwig refuses to be overly sentimental or linger too long on one moment. Witness the amount of tension she creates in a Christmas morning where a character bounds down the stairs, terrified of what she might find. Gerwig maximizes the details and shortens the cuts to keep the potentially dreadful moment electric, but isn’t afraid to defuse it with a positive outcome. The real let downs, that we have no control over, come more awkwardly and suddenly, and there isn’t a lot of time to spend mourning their arrival. Gerwig’s explanation of this throughout the film is a treat. While the film’s back and forth through time, without a linear progression, can be a task to keep up to, what a pleasant surprise it is to experience the lives and lessons of a group of women who are anything but little.
Starting with the basics- the characters of the March family, with the matriarch of Marmee (an excellent Laura Dern), oldest sister Meg (Emma Watson, the weak link of the bunch), headstrong Jo (a fiery but vulnerable Saoirse Ronan), cerebral Amy (an incredible Florence Pugh), and youngest sibling, Beth (Eliza Scanlen), with potential appearances by Father March (an initially difficult to take seriously Bob Odenkirk), are just such nice and good natured people. They get along fabulously with their neighbours, whatever the obscenely rich and pleasant Mr. Laurence (a refreshingly open hearted Chris Cooper) and his grandson (a dashing Timothée Chalamet), or the dirt poor family down the road that they risk their lives to help out. It’s the stuff the bible talks about, that not as many Christians emulate as you’d like to think. Even perfect strangers are touched by the family’s kindness, given without ulterior motive or thought of return. It’s tough to not be touched by the lengths the family, hardly wealthy themselves (although not as poor as they constantly claim to be), go to help their fellow man. It’s the family’s source of strength, in their commitment to others and ironclad bonds to one another, that is an inspiration to anyone who’s ever had a family.
While the film definitely has its moments of sweetness, it’s hardly a Hallmark production- those noxious paint by numbers’ works bearing minimal tethering to reality. Outside of the girls’ bubble of compassion, and carefree ways of young teenager-dom, lie a cruel, unjust, and indifferent world. With the film’s setting taking place after the conclusion of the civil war, we see a country clearly rocked by the death and destruction that occurred in the war’s wake, with sickness of those present and ghosts of those past lingering throughout the countryside. But beyond that milieu of death and loss, there exists a society of that age (perhaps still?), that doesn’t value women- except as objects and property. We see that in the film’s iconic opening shot, where Jo prepares mentally to talk with a publisher about buying her writings. With the sexism so internalized it’s barely noticed, we see the publisher (another solid turn by the great Tracy Letts) simultaneously looking down on her, giving advice on the kind of limited writings acceptable for mass consumption, and trying to exploit her. We see that theme again, in the film’s many conversations regarding marriage. Fuelled by independently wealthy paternal Aunt March (a walk on by the incomparable Meryl Streep)’s thoughts on a woman’s lot in life, the limits of a woman being able to sustain a family, never mind operate with a degree of independence and suffrage, are portrayed with degrees of realistic starkness. Even the choice of having a family or not, bears consequences.
Those consequences, told so nimbly by Gerwig, never seems to scream at you or hit you over the head with a hammer of obviousness. One character announces a baby has died- with the family too busy with their own concerns to respond to the normalized (of the time) tragedy. It’s also helped by the decision to have fragmented story telling, with her script darting back and forth throughout time, showing the girls’ in younger, more carefree times, and a present where the pangs of time have caught up to the ladies. Characters such as Jo, with her indomitable will, announce they won’t allow fate to take its course (one of my favourite scenes of the year)- an impression, amongst many others, ripe for reexamination.
But the movie’s greatest strength is that in a film packed with feeling, is how Gerwig refuses to be overly sentimental or linger too long on one moment. Witness the amount of tension she creates in a Christmas morning where a character bounds down the stairs, terrified of what she might find. Gerwig maximizes the details and shortens the cuts to keep the potentially dreadful moment electric, but isn’t afraid to defuse it with a positive outcome. The real let downs, that we have no control over, come more awkwardly and suddenly, and there isn’t a lot of time to spend mourning their arrival. Gerwig’s explanation of this throughout the film is a treat. While the film’s back and forth through time, without a linear progression, can be a task to keep up to, what a pleasant surprise it is to experience the lives and lessons of a group of women who are anything but little.
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