On Christmas Day, I headed to the movies with my mother, grandmother, and sister to see the new version of Little Women. I definitely expected to enjoy it because I know and love the story of Louisa May Alcott’s novel and because I enjoy pretty much everything Emma Watson is in. What I didn’t expect, however, was for a story I already knew to completely break me open like I’d never seen it before. I walked out of the theater (tear-stained), thinking that I had probably just seen my new favorite movie of all time. Little Women has so much love in it and is an example of why movies written and directed by women, telling the stories of incredible and complicated women, need to be made. Each of the female characters still has her distinctive qualities, but so many more facets of these literary icons are revealed in this adaptation, making the March women feel more real, complex, and relatable to viewers’ own stories. Meg shows the strength of a woman who does choose romance, love, and domestic life while still maintaining her agency. Marmee is the classic, nurturing mother figure who is incredibly charitable but has to bite back her anger at the injustices of the world around her. Jo is fiercely independent and protective as always, but finds moments in this film to let her guard down, allowing the audience to truly see her.
Little Women is a story I’ve known for years, and I’m sure most of the plot events are familiar to many people that went to see the latest movie adaptation. Little Women has inspired books, movies, and even a musical, but the thing that makes the latest iteration of Louisa May Alcott’s story so special is its specific focus on the familiar characters, especially Jo and Amy. Amy March is probably the least liked character in traditional tellings of this story—she burns Jo’s manuscript over a petty, childish disagreement, ends up with Laurie, who readers have always wanted for Jo, and just constantly whines through most of the childhood scenes of the story. In Greta Gerwig’s Little Women, however, Amy is still incredibly flawed, but she has qualities that make her much more likable and human. She is still melodramatic, but endearing, and, as the movie is told out of chronological order, we get to see adult Amy, who has grown a great deal, and who has acquired an incredibly realistic sense of the world as it is. She is unlike her family of dreamers and sees the truth of what is expected of her, that her future most likely includes an economically advantageous marriage. Amy eventually ends up marrying Laurie, the March family’s childhood best friend, but the way that adult Amy sees her potential and her life shows that she has always been more bold than bratty, and that shift makes her feel more real and lovable to me than ever.
Jo is another character that is portrayed incredibly well in this film. I have looked up to Jo since I first came into contact with Alcott’s story of the March sisters, but she has always felt a little inaccessible to me. Jo is often portrayed as simply a badass, who always pursues through her weak moments and never falters in the fight to achieve her goals and protect her family. She’s always been pure firecracker, and so I always looked up to her, but I never thought I could be her because I don’t exude that constant fire and determination. Saoirse Ronan’s Jo still has all of her original qualities: her fire, her determination, and her protectiveness. But, we get to see a much more vulnerable and human side of Jo than I’ve ever seen before. There is a scene in the movie that was prominently featured in the trailers where Jo gives a speech about the fact that women are fit for more than just love. And when I watched those trailers, I listened to Saoirse Ronan describe women’s hearts and minds, and it was compelling to me, but not surprising. It was simply Jo, unfalteringly advocating for herself and her fellow women. But, in the context of the movie, Jo reels from the loss of Beth, and fights feelings of wanting to reach out to Laurie, who she has rejected, and she still makes the point that “love is [not] all a woman’s fit for”, and immediately follows it up with “but I’m so lonely.” And that’s it, the problem that has faced women from Jo March all the way to Greta Gerwig: choosing between career and family, between oneself and others, between success and love. The fact that Jo comes so close to making that choice reminds us all that it’s okay not to be a complete badass all the time, and that having to look out for yourself more in hard times is not a sign of weakness. You can’t be a boss every day of your life, and you don’t need to be. This look at the vulnerable side of Jo turned her from an unattainable idol into someone that I can see myself in, and that changed the meaning of the story completely for me. Not only could I see Jo more clearly, I felt like I saw myself in her story, and that was so wonderful to experience.
At the end of Jo’s story, traditionally, she ends up marrying the professor that she meets in New York. However, in Greta Gerwig’s version of Little Women, it seems as though the romantic ending only takes place in Jo’s novel about her own life. After the scene where Jo runs after Professor Bhaer, the movie cuts to a scene of Jo negotiating with her editor because she doesn’t want her heroine to end up married, but he insists that it’s the only way to sell her novel. Since the book was published, Jo’s marriage to Professor Bhaer has troubled readers, both because she doesn’t end up with her childhood best friend, Laurie, and because she ends up with anyone at all. This ending, though, hints at the idea that maybe Jo never ends up with any man and instead remains independent, as is her true nature. This change to the story provides longtime fans (or at least me) with comfort in knowing that Jo is truly happy instead of being “sold into marriage”, as Louisa May Alcott would have wanted.
Little Women shows that the March sisters, who entered the literary canon in 1868, still resonate with women today, and it shows why telling stories like the March sisters’ is so important, because it makes women feel seen. The stories of the March sisters portray complex women who care deeply for each other, and have also learned how to look out for themselves. They are independent in so many different ways, and so the March sisters are able to inspire every type of woman who hears their stories.