Little Women, Revisited

I don’t remember exactly when I watched the 1994 adaptation of Little Women; it was at home, not in the theatre, I do know that. And I was still young enough (read, a teenager) that it became a part of the pop culture vocabulary for some of the earliest iterations of my identity – in the same way as My So Called Life, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, and Clueless. It provided some of the archetypes of femininity with which and against which I sought to define myself as a young adult. Not to mention prototypes of romantic (and platonic) relationships.

It may seem strange, in that context, to say that I have never read the Alcott novel. I was going to write “I don’t know why”, but if I think about it, I can probably come up with some likely explanations. I think it was a convergence of prejudices on my part. As a teenager, I had a great deal of prejudice against American literature, for reasons that would take too long to unpack here. (I got over it.) I also viewed “kiddie books” with some disdain, and Little Women probably slotted itself into that category in my mind based on the title alone. The movie was wonderful and entertaining, and that in itself was probably a mark against the book because I had a vague idea that worthwhile literature and entertainment were strange bedfellows.

Had I read Little Women, this post probably wouldn’t exist. I can only assume that I would have loved the book and, as with all such favourites, I would have re-read it periodically in the intervening decades. My feelings about it and its characters would have grown with me. As it is, my feelings about Little Women (the movie) are a kind of time capsule. The last time I re-watched it was sometime in my early twenties – not sufficiently removed from my adolescence for a different perspective to form. When I tell you about my favourite March sister, it’s still 16 year old Adina who is speaking. Based on literary prejudices alone, that person is something of a stranger to me.

There have been some hints that the new adaptation of Little Women (to be released this December) may be a modern take on the story. I am looking forward to seeing what Greta Gerwig does with it, and how my almost-40 year old self relates to it. But in the meantime, I also thought it would be an interesting experiment to re-watch the 1994 version. Break open the time capsule. See whether my younger self and I see eye-to-eye on the important questions (is Amy the worst?) or not.

Here is where things stood before the re-watch. (I am writing in the past tense because I’m speaking on behalf of my old self which is a weird gambit now that I think about it, and I don’t know how else to communicate it. Ahem.)

As you may be able to surmise, Jo was my favourite March sister. I grew up wanting to be a writer and suffering from a serious case of “not like the other girls”. I didn’t like show-offs (like Amy, ugh) yet I yearned to be recognized as special, preferably by a wealthy but sensitive dreamboat. Meg was nice but boring. As for Beth … well, if Jo was the person I aspired to be, then Beth was the person I actually was. The good girl who plays by the rules and gets the crappiest deal. I was not nearly as selfless and saint-like as Beth, but I was a dutiful, responsible daughter and I felt like that meant missing out on all the fun that my teenage peers were having (in movies, anyway).

And, of course, Amy was the worst.

Amy was Gwyneth Paltrow. Teenage Adina hated Gwyneth Paltrow with a vengeance. She represented Privilege-with-a-capital-P, privilege of a kind that I felt would always elude me.

Which brings me to Laurie. Laurie was one version of my dream boyfriend, much like Josh from Clueless or Angel from Buffy (yeah, I know). I honestly cannot remember anything about what made him so dreamy and desirable other than the fact that he was rich, handsome (I will always have a soft spot for floppy-haired, period-attired Christian Bale) and had the good taste of falling in love with Jo. I felt devastated when Jo rejected Laurie, and utterly betrayed when he went on to marry Amy. The latter part felt like confirmation of my secret teenage fears – that every boy I would ever fall for would end up choosing Gwyneth Paltrow instead. Well, you know what I mean.

I braced myself for that disappointment again, and re-watched the movie.

And it was interesting.

Here are my takeaways.

One, the movie still holds up very, very well. Were it not for the parties, involved, I would be adamant that the new adaptation is neither needed nor wanted. [But I do want to see Saoirse Ronan as Jo, and Florence Pugh as Amy and, oh my, Timmy Chalamet as Laurie. I can’t wait, in fact.] Anyway, it’s always a kind of relief when a movie beloved by your younger self turns out not to be retroactively terrible. Little Women is far more than just not terrible: it’s charming and heart-warming, and with one glaring exception, wonderfully cast.

Jo remains my favourite March sister, but I have much more sympathy for her situation than I did before. Most importantly, I understand her decision to reject Laurie’s proposal. Laurie was too bourgeois for Jo, and their relationship struck me as far more platonic in nature (especially on Jo’s side) than I remembered it. Here is where it gets interesting. While I admire Jo’s pursuit of her passion, I don’t identify with it in the same way that I did at 16-17. I made different, more prosaic choices in my own life since then – choosing a stable if less creatively fulfilling career – which would align me much more closely with Amy than Jo. Not gonna lie: I kinda get where Amy is coming from now. I, too, like to be comfortable and have pretty things. Turns out, I’m far more pragmatic (and bourgeois) than bohemian. [Luckily, I’ve had the option of pursuing my own career versus having to hunt for a rich husband like Amy.] In fact, the one drawback of the movie is how little time we spend with the adult Amy; I think she would be an interesting person from whom to hear more and I’m excited to see that we may be getting that opportunity in the new adaptation.

The movie also rushes over her developing relationship with Laurie, which I can only assume is more fleshed out in the book. Again, younger me didn’t care about this because I thought the whole plot point was a crime. Current me would have liked to see how Laurie “earns” Amy’s respect and love. Because, let’s face it, adult Laurie is a bit of a wet blanket. If I was ever a fan of mopey emo boys, that time is long gone and now I have no patience for rich, handsome, privileged white men whining about how hard their lot in life is. Still, Christian Bale (sans attempted dandy mustache) is fine; nothing to complain there.

The only other major surprise I got in watching the movie was the fact that Mr. March didn’t die. I could have sworn that he did. I also thought Beth died a lot sooner – not that it made much difference. Poor Beth.

Oh yeah, one last thing. Professor Baer. Ok, look, maybe we are not going to be friends again after I write this but I have to say it: Gabriel Byrne was a terrible choice to play Baer. Byrne is an objectively handsome guy, but he fell flat for me in this character. I thought he and Winona had zero chemistry – and I say that as someone who has been charmed by a fair share of cinematic May-December romances. I will reserve judgment on the new version of Prof. Baer until I see the new movie, but currently I am leaning in favour of Alcott’s reputed preferred ending: having Jo end up alone as a literary “spinster”.

Ok, your turn now: tell me your thoughts on Little Women in the comments.