When Greta Gerwig's Little Women arrived in cinemas - remember those things? - at the tail end of 2019, it came with the weight of the loftiest expectations that would collapse a lesser film. Not only serving as Gerwig's sophomore feature, whose Lady Bird debut earned Academy Award nominations across the board, including Picture, Director and Writing, it also marked a new interpretation of one of literature's most popular, and subsequently adapted, novels of all time.
Every generation has their own Little Women and Gerwig both writes and directs hers with an unquenchable passion and indisputable love for the source material, written by novelist Louise Mae Alcott in the 1860s. Every scene, moment and frame is a combination of Alcott's heart and Gerwig's spirit, the determination to do right by the characters coursing through this interpretation, which ensures every character relationship is detailed and presented with texture; the world of the March sisters, their family and friends is presented with such affection and fondness that by the end of the film it feels like we have known them for a lifetime.
Gerwig understands such a connection and honours it in an early scene: having somewhat stumbled into their lives, Timothee Chalamet's Theodore Laurence surveys the March household who have fallen into a bundle of laughter and excitement that could melt the coldest of hearts, instantly overcome by the radiating kinship that fuels the family in their darkest times, strongly speaking of the strength and healing properties family and love can possess, their closeness as clear as day. It would be easy to overlook such a quiet moment, but it is such a profound one reflective of Little Women's very core - at this moment, Laurie, Gerwig and the audience are one in their love and admiration of the March siblings, caring so deeply of them as if they were our own sisters.
Gerwig's extensive understanding of these characters, and the extraordinary ensemble that brings them to the screen, help create a finely-tuned symphony. As Emma Watson explained in a behind-the-scenes insight into the making of the film, Gerwig inserted dashes into the screenplay to indicate where the overlapping dialogue should begin and end, carefully crafting the layers of dialogue crucial to understanding the character dynamics that make this world so multi-faceted and exuberantly full. Dedicated to these small flourishes that enrich their small, cosy world, Gerwig has seemingly distilled every minor detail of a seven hundred page-plus novel into a feature that clocks in at just over two hours. Directors spend their whole careers trying to imbue so much texture in their films as Gerwig has managed in only her second picture to date.
Her strong eye for casting is also clear, assembling one of the finest ensembles our silver screen has been given in some time. With names ranging from Saoirse Ronan, Florence Pugh, Eliza Scanlen, Emma Watson, Timothee Chalamet, Laura Dern and Meryl Streep, each and every star embodies their respective characters in such a way that further interpretations will be troubled to shake; Ronan's resolution, Pugh's conviction, Scanlen's timidness, Watson's level-headedness, Chalamet's charm, Dern's nurturing and Streep's prickliness work stunningly as one unit, singing from Greta's page, but always impressing individually, imbuing personality into their performances that make these, in my opinion, the definitive character translations.
Gerwig's most fruitful and arguably radical decision is a structural one: by presenting the narrative non-linearly, cutting to and from time periods as events parallel and contrast, Gerwig is able to circumvent a number of challenges the novel presents. One of the most notable criticisms of Alcott's story, and subsequent adaptations, are the marriages - something teased in Gerwig's brilliantly metatextual ending.
Alcott faced great pressure from publishers when developing the second half of the novel, published almost a year after the first. Instructed to give Jo a domestically blissful and "happy" ending, Alcott introduces an eventual husband, Freidrich Bhaer, deep into the second act. This, despite the belief from many that Laurie (who goes on to marry her sister, Amy) was the more suitable match, has never quite worked in the previous adaptations, feeling rushed and unsatisfying - as has Laurie and Amy's romance, similarly unconvincing as a result of how sudden it seems.
Gerwig smartly tackles this component, the merging timelines never working harder or better than they do here; as we begin with Jo's life in New York, we become acquainted with Bhaer early on; in Paris, Laurie and Amy share a touching moment before we have had time to commit our hearts to Laurie and Jo. Something as minor as changing the way our characters are introduced has revitalised, and all but completely fixed, a point of contention for the previous interpretations. It's so simple but so incredibly astute.
Over 150 years after its publication, Gerwig still manages to extract the novel's contemporary relevance for a modern audience. While Alcott's novel was rather revolutionary at its time for its discussions of marriage, domesticity and a woman's place in the world, Gerwig enhances those threads for 21st-century viewing; the film ends with Jo selling her Little Women to the publisher, bartering for the exact same deal Alcott struck with hers, with Gerwig treating the second eldest March sister as a stand-in for her creator. Both forced to "sell their heroine into marriage for money", it is explored both comedically and with a lingering sense of melancholy for her narrative sacrifice, also bringing greater weight to Jo's tussle with her authorship and desire to leave a mark on the world, knowing Alcott experienced the same in her career and journey. This metatextuality once again proves just how intensely invested Gerwig is in Alcott's life and work and it's a genuine privilege to witness her memory so beautifully preserved here.
Gerwig affirms the screenplay's brilliance through her singular direction, which utilises colour grading, framing and cinematography, as well as musical cues and tight editing, to flesh out thematic links and narrative beats. Her visual imagination, vital in selling the non-linear approach, is stellar, tremendously executing the somewhat dreamy exploration of memory and legacy that speaks so powerfully to so many. Her techniques, from the identical framing of two similar moments with very different conclusions to the muted colours following Beth's death to reflect the immeasurable impact that her loss has on the family, are masterful strokes that allow her writing to shine as it so richly deserves. This is more than a new Little Women; it is Greta Gerwig's Little Women, one she has gifted on to us.
Even prior to the 2019 film's release, it was difficult to imagine a more perfect or lovingly-rendered Little Women; having since (read and) watched the major screen adaptations, it's clear that Greta Gerwig's is the ultimate Little Women, an adaptation so rich in liveliness and warmth and emotion and feeling. Because Gerwig does more than simply adapt Little Women from the page to the screen; she revolutionises it, breathing new, refreshing life into the tale without ever once losing the pure essence of the beloved source material. It's beyond remarkable how countless adaptations later, Gerwig has managed to imprint her own personal style and voice on to a story that has earned a place in the hearts of so many, not only paying respect and homage to the written word but changing how we view this story forevermore. Adaptions simply do not come better than this.
Little Women arrived when the world needed it most and, in these dark times, will be a beacon of hope and comfort for many. Thank you, Greta Gerwig, for this perfect adaptation.
“I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.”
Every generation has their own Little Women and Gerwig both writes and directs hers with an unquenchable passion and indisputable love for the source material, written by novelist Louise Mae Alcott in the 1860s. Every scene, moment and frame is a combination of Alcott's heart and Gerwig's spirit, the determination to do right by the characters coursing through this interpretation, which ensures every character relationship is detailed and presented with texture; the world of the March sisters, their family and friends is presented with such affection and fondness that by the end of the film it feels like we have known them for a lifetime.
Gerwig understands such a connection and honours it in an early scene: having somewhat stumbled into their lives, Timothee Chalamet's Theodore Laurence surveys the March household who have fallen into a bundle of laughter and excitement that could melt the coldest of hearts, instantly overcome by the radiating kinship that fuels the family in their darkest times, strongly speaking of the strength and healing properties family and love can possess, their closeness as clear as day. It would be easy to overlook such a quiet moment, but it is such a profound one reflective of Little Women's very core - at this moment, Laurie, Gerwig and the audience are one in their love and admiration of the March siblings, caring so deeply of them as if they were our own sisters.
Gerwig's extensive understanding of these characters, and the extraordinary ensemble that brings them to the screen, help create a finely-tuned symphony. As Emma Watson explained in a behind-the-scenes insight into the making of the film, Gerwig inserted dashes into the screenplay to indicate where the overlapping dialogue should begin and end, carefully crafting the layers of dialogue crucial to understanding the character dynamics that make this world so multi-faceted and exuberantly full. Dedicated to these small flourishes that enrich their small, cosy world, Gerwig has seemingly distilled every minor detail of a seven hundred page-plus novel into a feature that clocks in at just over two hours. Directors spend their whole careers trying to imbue so much texture in their films as Gerwig has managed in only her second picture to date.
Her strong eye for casting is also clear, assembling one of the finest ensembles our silver screen has been given in some time. With names ranging from Saoirse Ronan, Florence Pugh, Eliza Scanlen, Emma Watson, Timothee Chalamet, Laura Dern and Meryl Streep, each and every star embodies their respective characters in such a way that further interpretations will be troubled to shake; Ronan's resolution, Pugh's conviction, Scanlen's timidness, Watson's level-headedness, Chalamet's charm, Dern's nurturing and Streep's prickliness work stunningly as one unit, singing from Greta's page, but always impressing individually, imbuing personality into their performances that make these, in my opinion, the definitive character translations.
Gerwig's most fruitful and arguably radical decision is a structural one: by presenting the narrative non-linearly, cutting to and from time periods as events parallel and contrast, Gerwig is able to circumvent a number of challenges the novel presents. One of the most notable criticisms of Alcott's story, and subsequent adaptations, are the marriages - something teased in Gerwig's brilliantly metatextual ending.
Alcott faced great pressure from publishers when developing the second half of the novel, published almost a year after the first. Instructed to give Jo a domestically blissful and "happy" ending, Alcott introduces an eventual husband, Freidrich Bhaer, deep into the second act. This, despite the belief from many that Laurie (who goes on to marry her sister, Amy) was the more suitable match, has never quite worked in the previous adaptations, feeling rushed and unsatisfying - as has Laurie and Amy's romance, similarly unconvincing as a result of how sudden it seems.
Gerwig smartly tackles this component, the merging timelines never working harder or better than they do here; as we begin with Jo's life in New York, we become acquainted with Bhaer early on; in Paris, Laurie and Amy share a touching moment before we have had time to commit our hearts to Laurie and Jo. Something as minor as changing the way our characters are introduced has revitalised, and all but completely fixed, a point of contention for the previous interpretations. It's so simple but so incredibly astute.
Over 150 years after its publication, Gerwig still manages to extract the novel's contemporary relevance for a modern audience. While Alcott's novel was rather revolutionary at its time for its discussions of marriage, domesticity and a woman's place in the world, Gerwig enhances those threads for 21st-century viewing; the film ends with Jo selling her Little Women to the publisher, bartering for the exact same deal Alcott struck with hers, with Gerwig treating the second eldest March sister as a stand-in for her creator. Both forced to "sell their heroine into marriage for money", it is explored both comedically and with a lingering sense of melancholy for her narrative sacrifice, also bringing greater weight to Jo's tussle with her authorship and desire to leave a mark on the world, knowing Alcott experienced the same in her career and journey. This metatextuality once again proves just how intensely invested Gerwig is in Alcott's life and work and it's a genuine privilege to witness her memory so beautifully preserved here.
Gerwig affirms the screenplay's brilliance through her singular direction, which utilises colour grading, framing and cinematography, as well as musical cues and tight editing, to flesh out thematic links and narrative beats. Her visual imagination, vital in selling the non-linear approach, is stellar, tremendously executing the somewhat dreamy exploration of memory and legacy that speaks so powerfully to so many. Her techniques, from the identical framing of two similar moments with very different conclusions to the muted colours following Beth's death to reflect the immeasurable impact that her loss has on the family, are masterful strokes that allow her writing to shine as it so richly deserves. This is more than a new Little Women; it is Greta Gerwig's Little Women, one she has gifted on to us.
Even prior to the 2019 film's release, it was difficult to imagine a more perfect or lovingly-rendered Little Women; having since (read and) watched the major screen adaptations, it's clear that Greta Gerwig's is the ultimate Little Women, an adaptation so rich in liveliness and warmth and emotion and feeling. Because Gerwig does more than simply adapt Little Women from the page to the screen; she revolutionises it, breathing new, refreshing life into the tale without ever once losing the pure essence of the beloved source material. It's beyond remarkable how countless adaptations later, Gerwig has managed to imprint her own personal style and voice on to a story that has earned a place in the hearts of so many, not only paying respect and homage to the written word but changing how we view this story forevermore. Adaptions simply do not come better than this.
Little Women arrived when the world needed it most and, in these dark times, will be a beacon of hope and comfort for many. Thank you, Greta Gerwig, for this perfect adaptation.
“I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.”