My Little women
An Essay by Alex Nibley
Back in high school, I was taught that beginning an essay with an interesting fact is a good way to start, so here is my fact: Little Women is one of the most important films of the decade, let alone 2019. I guess that this is my thesis as well because I am about to spend however long it takes to prove that to you.
I grew up on Little Women. The story lives in a very specific and tangible part of my brain, the same place that memories of first kisses, heartbreaks, moments of discovery, and happy tears go. Introduced to me by my mother, I watched the 1994 film adaptation religiously and loved each of the Marches as my own family, which is not unrealistic since I did grow up the oldest of four sisters. I saw the guardianship of Meg (Trini Alvarado) in fifteen-year-old Andie, the sweet, shy spirit of Beth (Claire Danes) in thirteen-year-old Avery, and all the turbulent confidence of Amy (Kirsten Dunst) in little nine-year-old Aidan. But I knew that I wanted to be exactly like Winona Ryder’s Jo—passionate and fiercely loving.
I grew up on Little Women. The story lives in a very specific and tangible part of my brain, the same place that memories of first kisses, heartbreaks, moments of discovery, and happy tears go. Introduced to me by my mother, I watched the 1994 film adaptation religiously and loved each of the Marches as my own family, which is not unrealistic since I did grow up the oldest of four sisters. I saw the guardianship of Meg (Trini Alvarado) in fifteen-year-old Andie, the sweet, shy spirit of Beth (Claire Danes) in thirteen-year-old Avery, and all the turbulent confidence of Amy (Kirsten Dunst) in little nine-year-old Aidan. But I knew that I wanted to be exactly like Winona Ryder’s Jo—passionate and fiercely loving.
Still from Little Women (1994)
As a film-obsessed kid, books often came second to me. I’m embarrassed to say that I didn’t read the book until this year. Part of me feels grateful to have consumed it for the first time at 20—I am just shy of Meg’s age when she marries John Brooke, Jo when she moves to New York, Beth when she passes away, and Amy when she marries Laurie. I am experiencing this life through a particular lens and, in turn, learning from these little women as one myself.
In preparation for my first viewing of the 2019 film, I read, listened, and watched all that I could about the women of this story, past and present. The book’s author, Louisa May Alcott, lived and associated with some of the great thinkers of her time—Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and Nathaniel Hawthorne to name a few—in Concord, Massachusetts, where Little Women takes place. Her book is semi-autobiographical. Alcott grew up as one of four daughters, each of whom provided a template for a character in Lousia’s story, including one she lost at a young age. It is not difficult to observe the similarities between Jo and Louisa; lines between the two were particularly blurred in this most recent cinematic representation of Jo. Both supported their impoverished families (the Alcotts much poorer than the Marches) by writing sensational stories for very little money. Self-taught ambidextrous writers, they lived and died for their writing, working long days and spending longer nights dreaming up tales. As a Civil War nurse, Louisa dedicated much of her time to the service of others in life, and also in her writing. She wrote of philosophy, love, and feminism, paving the way for so many after her to bring about more lasting change for the rights of women.
In preparation for my first viewing of the 2019 film, I read, listened, and watched all that I could about the women of this story, past and present. The book’s author, Louisa May Alcott, lived and associated with some of the great thinkers of her time—Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and Nathaniel Hawthorne to name a few—in Concord, Massachusetts, where Little Women takes place. Her book is semi-autobiographical. Alcott grew up as one of four daughters, each of whom provided a template for a character in Lousia’s story, including one she lost at a young age. It is not difficult to observe the similarities between Jo and Louisa; lines between the two were particularly blurred in this most recent cinematic representation of Jo. Both supported their impoverished families (the Alcotts much poorer than the Marches) by writing sensational stories for very little money. Self-taught ambidextrous writers, they lived and died for their writing, working long days and spending longer nights dreaming up tales. As a Civil War nurse, Louisa dedicated much of her time to the service of others in life, and also in her writing. She wrote of philosophy, love, and feminism, paving the way for so many after her to bring about more lasting change for the rights of women.
Left: Louisa May Alcott, author of the best selling novel, Little Women (1868). Right: Greta Gerwig, writer and director of the film, Little Women (2019).
This is some text inEnter Greta. The writer and director of the 2019 adaptation of the beloved American novel, Greta Gerwig is the self-proclaimed biggest fan of Alcott, second only (according to her) to the owner of the Alcott home. The writer/director did extensive homework in preparation for this film, including collecting a series of photos and paintings from the Civil War resonant of girls today which she dubbed, “girls-you-know” (see Winslow Homer’s “High Tide” 1870). She also pored over pages of letters written by Alcott and spent time in the wildness of Concord. All of this contributed to her particularly personal telling of Alcott’s story. The real magic of Gerwig’s account is just that—that it’s hers. She is the life and breath of this film. Though various lines in the script are taken from the book or Alcott’s letters, so much of the script dripped from Greta’s sensitive, meticulous mind. She lovingly placed each movement of the film with such thick devotion that it sticks, enveloping you in its goodness.
Winslow Homer’s “Eagle Head, Manchester, Massachusetts (High Tide)” from 1870. The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Before Gerwig even had the chance to begin casting, Meryl Streep—a lover of the novel and fellow Greta Gerwig fan—declared to Greta that she would be playing the part of Aunt March, but her involvement in the film wasn’t limited solely to acting. In a conversation with Gerwig, Streep underscored the importance of Amy’s hyper-focus on “making a good match,” which highly inspired a scene between Timothée Chalamet and Florence Pugh. “This is what you have to communicate to the audience about the position of women, that they don't even own their own children. It's not just that they couldn't vote, it's not just that they didn't have jobs. They didn't own anything. If you wanted to leave a marriage, you could leave but you would leave with nothing, not even your kids.” (Streep). In this scene, Laurie does what he does best and prods at Amy’s apparent troubles playfully which then brings on the monologue that proves Amy’s maturity at this point in the film: “I believe that we have some power over who we love, it isn’t something that just happens to a person,” states Amy. “I think the poets might disagree,” retorts Laurie. “Well I am not a poet, I am just a woman,” Amy counters, “and as a woman, there’s no way for me to make my own money.” She goes on to explain her inability, “as a woman” to own property or even her future children. It’s a sad but heroic gesture for a woman of talent and drive to marry for money as Amy intends to. As an artist, she wants, “...to be great or nothing,” but as a woman, Amy expects marriage to be nothing more than, “an economic proposition,” and is unashamed because that is what will provide security to those she loves. Although these circumstances have improved for much of the western world, traces of these ideas exist in the unspoken restrictions that women encounter in the professional world, many religious practices, and in women’s education and their right to it. The exchange of perspectives between Amy and Laurie illustrates the still-present need for open dialogue between men and women about current female conditions. Amy shows that it is brave to live with intention. This scene, along with many others, gives our Amy a specific courage different than that of previous adaptations.
Timothée Chalamet as Theodore "Laurie" Laurence and Florence Pugh as Amy March in Little Women (2019)
A small but incredibly significant negotiation happens between Jo and Meg on the morning of Meg’s wedding day. Jo, scared of losing a sister to married life, proposes that they run away together. Jo will take care of them by writing her stories and Meg can further pursue her talent of acting. Meg kindly declines and shares her noble feelings about becoming a wife and mother. “I want to get married. Just because my dreams are different than yours, doesn’t mean they’re unimportant.” This film’s portrayal of the importance of motherhood is vital to its feminism. Our world desires good mothers to raise good children, but it can also frown upon those mothers if that is all they wish to be. Meg shows us that it is just as brave and beautiful to desire a life of domesticity as it is to want a life of independence.
As written in the novel, Beth is modest and quiet, but on the 2019 screen, Eliza Scanlen’s Beth has more of a voice, though it remains a soft one. She is observant and wise, she bravely goes out into the world—even if that world only spans the short walk to the Lawerence residence—and claims a piece of it for herself. My mother, Stephanie—the same mother who shared this gift of a story with me as a child—lost her younger sister, Lisa, to cancer when she was in her early twenties. Late into her illness, Lisa and my mom shared a day experiencing this film together. They held each other and cried. Soon after, Lisa passed, leaving my mom with one less sister and years of grief. I sink into emotion every single time that I hear or read the words “I am not afraid,” as they exit Beth’s lips. I cry because I see my mom and I see her sister. Though I never met her, my mother’s sister feels somehow real to me, in part because of the parallel she is to Beth; as I’ve gotten to know Beth, I’ve felt closer to Lisa. She lives in the fabric of the way I’ve been raised. The love that Stephanie has for her Lisa helped her to become my resilient and loving mother. Jo and Beth, much like Stephanie and Lisa, strengthen, love, and champion one another. Watching Beth and Jo’s relationship play out onscreen is a great privilege.
Saoirse Ronan as Jo March in Little Women (2019)
In this most recent adaptation, we see how the men of the film rely on the women around them. Laurie’s life changes completely once the Marches stumble into it and their importance to his progression cannot be stressed enough. He is mothered and sistered and befriended by each of them. John Brooke falls deeply in love with Meg’s kindness and young maturity, Mr. Laurence becomes indebted to the entire family for their affection, and Fredrich Bhaer the german professor simply loves Jo for her fiery ambition. Each man is completely taken with the elegant chaos that is each of the March women. This is just a window into the important work that we have to do as women in every season of life. Good people come from the good women that surround them and though it is not uniquely our responsibility, we must acknowledge and be acknowledged of the evergrowing importance concerning our influence on the world. Centuries of misguided intention have led to an environment where softness and emotion are not safe for men and boys to express. In this dangerous machismo culture, we owe it to the young men in our lives to protect, preserve and recklessly share love. Whether or not it was Alcott’s intention, this love has translated into Gerwig’s screenplay and with the right audience, will seep into the rest of the world. Take your boys and men to see Little Women, cry with them, teach them of the importance of empathy, and help bring about these changes.
Saoirse Ronan as Jo March and Timothée Chalamet as Theodore "Laurie" Laurence in Little Women (2019)
One of the most moving scenes of the film is Jo’s conversation with Marmee in her young adulthood: “Women, they have minds, and they have souls as well as just hearts, and they’ve got ambition, and they’ve got talent, as well as just beauty. And I’m so sick of people saying that love is just all a woman is fit for, I’m so sick of it. But I-I’m so lonely.” Here, she expresses the simple yet lofty wants of every girl. No matter how confident or detached someone may seem, they possess just as much of a primal desire for validation and love as any other human being. I, like Jo, “wish to make my own way in the world,” though simultaneously I feel shy and ashamed of the great things—the great love—that I want. “I want to be loved,” Jo aches. I do too. I will always admire Jo for her relentlessness and strength, but in this scene, I love Jo for baring these exposed and identifiable thoughts. I love Greta Gerwig for writing them.
In an article for The New York Times, Gerwig describes her evolution in making this film, “As a girl, my heroine was Jo, as a woman, it’s Louisa May Alcott.” She later goes on, “I think, as adult women, we’re always walking with our younger selves, I feel like I’m always answering to her, about whether I’m being as brave as I could be, or as big as I could be, or as ambitious as I could be.” This is a film about women and their wants. It is an example of the importance we hold as the carriers of life, grief, patience, anger, love, and authority. It’s playful and sad, a tale of love that ventures far deeper than romance. Little Women belongs to me in the same way that it belongs to every woman it has touched, all the way down to Louisa May Alcott herself. Little Women is a story for all at all times.
In an article for The New York Times, Gerwig describes her evolution in making this film, “As a girl, my heroine was Jo, as a woman, it’s Louisa May Alcott.” She later goes on, “I think, as adult women, we’re always walking with our younger selves, I feel like I’m always answering to her, about whether I’m being as brave as I could be, or as big as I could be, or as ambitious as I could be.” This is a film about women and their wants. It is an example of the importance we hold as the carriers of life, grief, patience, anger, love, and authority. It’s playful and sad, a tale of love that ventures far deeper than romance. Little Women belongs to me in the same way that it belongs to every woman it has touched, all the way down to Louisa May Alcott herself. Little Women is a story for all at all times.
