Greta Gerwig Wins Big With “Little Women”

Latest adaptation modernizes Louisa May Alcott’s novel

Five women, a Civil War, the decadence and squalor of early American society and an ever-looming horizon of presumably blissful matrimony. In the newest film adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s “Little Women,” an impressive lineup of stars—under the masterful direction of Greta Gerwig—bring the March sisters and their wonderful, ordinary adventures and misadventures to unspeakably beautiful life. 

The March family faces a torrent of conflicts: their father has gone to serve the Union army, Beth falls ill and sisterhood comes with serious challenges. 

Womanhood, too, is challenging, the 19th century being no hospitable place for female dreamers and nay-sayers. To marry or not to marry, to argue or to forgive, to conform or to forge a new path.

The actors outdid themselves, which comes as no surprise in light of such superb casting by Seth Yanklewitz. Saoirse Ronan and Timothée Chalamet shine again in another Gerwig piece. Emma Watson carries her character with intelligence and grace, gifting us a Meg whose eyes sparkle with kindness, at the same time wielding a formidable determination.

Ronan entrances as Jo March. With every film, she molds herself into characters who breathe and bleed their stories. Since “The Lovely Bones,” she has only grown more powerful, bringing us a delightfully brave and quirky Agatha in Wes Anderson’s “The Grand Budapest Hotel, ” embodying the challenges of immigration and love in “Brooklyn” and capturing eccentric teendom and normal familyhood in “Lady Bird.” She is one of the greatest actors of her generation, if not the best, and will continue to keep us wrapped around her all-too-wonderful finger.

As a multitude of directors seem to be doing lately, like those of “Rocketman” and “The Goldfinch,” Gerwig has chosen to weave a narrative that goes back and forth through time in this rendition of “Little Women.” The result is moving, carrying the audience from one distinctly emotional scene to the next and then back, with years between. Expert changes in lighting, color, season and even hair length make the time travel easy to follow. Beyond that, it’s fantastic storytelling.

Like any good film, the soundtrack conducts feeling just as much as each scene does thanks to Alexandre Desplat’s thoughtful composition. Classical music brings us to our knees, and this movie’s score soars through the soul like a shooting star with good headwind. The women’s laughter, too—such gentle, stirring music. To spend two hours in the theater with this family is to be held in tender love. 

The initial catch of a piece like this is captured in what’s shown in the film to be a revelation of sorts for late-modern America: women’s lives matter. Of course, it’s much beyond this now, because at our age of feminist progression, I would certainly hope all would agree that women’s lives matter—although not everyone behaves as if this is true in a broken system, unfortunately. 

For women at this time, options were limited—but this does not mean the domestic didn’t carry value. As the Amy played by Florence Pugh points out in her passionate art studio conversation with Chalamet’s Laurie, women couldn’t make their own money, and so had to devise other ways to survive and, in the best case scenario, find happiness. 

Jo, the writer among this troupe of women, emboldens the seriousness of dreams alongside her sisters. She doesn’t want to marry—in full rejection of women’s lack of agency—and choreographs her own life in aspiration of authorhood and independence. Although Jo wanted to steer clear of all nuptials, in the end, her publisher forces her to tie the knot for her protagonist, an ultimatum some believe Alcott’s own publisher presented to her. Jo does fall in love, however, which some might approach with chagrin.

But feminism isn’t honest and equalizing if it doesn’t honor all women. This conversation needs to continue in our 21st century, and this film does so beautifully. Professional and domestic aspirations don’t need to be valued in such contemptuously different categories. As Watson’s Meg spells out: “Just because my dreams are different than yours doesn’t mean they’re unimportant.” 

The story itself unveils the hardships and joys of this family of little women, whose littleness is really only made up of the fact that they are ordinary, extraordinary people. 

Little women, “little” lives. If human beings matter, all of it matters. Every page that’s turned. Every single detail.

Contact Erika Rasmussen at erasmussen@scu.edu or call (408) 554-4852.