Little Women. Greta Gerwig, dir. (Note: This movie was praised by other critics, so it’s significant that Greta also wrote the screenplay, meaning that she got snubbed in both categories, as 2019 ends with Hollywood snubbing females in the movie arts.)

Nothing like starting 2020’s movie reviews with the movie version of a successful book. Of course, Little Women has been interpreted on the silver screen since 1917 and 1918’s silent movies (the first is lost). The 1933 version (B&W but a talkie) featured Katharine Hepburn as Jo March, the sister who’s also a writer. 1949 and 1994 versions followed. And now the 2019 version (as if we needed more, but maybe this one is “definitive”?). And those are just the movies. PBS viewers know that network had its own Masterpiece Theatre version.

I never saw those earlier movies. I was reluctant to see the 2019 version. I never read the book either, although many people consider it a classic. And I’m glad I did none of that. The story is typical nineteenth century romantic schlock—not quite as bad as Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte’s oeuvre, but right up there. (I can probably find an author beginning with C to make it the ABC’s of old romantic schlock, although I presume Nicholas Sparks can provide some stiff competition by being much worse.)

That said, here we have Jo (Saoirse Ronan), older sister Meg (Emma Watson), Beth (Eliza Scanlen), and the jealous Amy (Florence Pugh) yet again…and I watched this version. Having nothing in my personal experience to compare it too, I’ll just say it’s a mixed bag. I’m sure the dream sequences (an especially poignant one occurs when Jo dreams that Beth has recovered—at least I don’t have to worry about spoilers here) and many flashbacks (sometimes confusing, but they keep things moving by waking you up) do a lot to modernize this famous story of female empowerment. They probably weren’t in the original novel (a thanks due to Greta is here?). This and excellent acting by the women who play the March girls kept me interested throughout this very long movie.

But only a few scenes made me nod and smile. The first was the scene at the end where they put together Jo’s book—brief but symbolic. The second, also at the end, was where Jo’s earlier beau, Prof. Bhaer (Lous Garrel), who told her in that NYC boarding house she can write but should write better, informs everyone in Concord that he’s heading for California where they treat immigrants better (no border walls back then). Back at that boarding house and early on in the movie, by the way, I just knew he and Jo would be an item—and, mind you, I never read the book! (One of the best things you can say about nineteenth century romantic schlock is that it’s predictable.) I’m sure there are other nice moments that will resonate with modern moviegoers too, especially those rabid fans of the book.

As far as the feminism goes, don’t look for this movie to be a statement supporting #MeToo or the Equal Rights Amendment. This is the nineteenth century, folks, and all the girls at the end of the story go the traditional route of becoming homemakers, although some make some bold statements along the way, bold for the time, that is. Meg marries early, and for love; Amy settles in with another of Jo’s ex-beaus, Laurie AKA Teddy (Timothée Chalment), whether for love or to spite Jo; and Jo eventually falls for her professor, putting the whole thing in her book by following the editor’s suggestion to eliminate the ending about the independent woman. (Modern editors might do just the opposite, and bravo!) Yes, those little women are still trapped in a man’s world where about fifty per cent of humanity’s talent and brains find a hard time contributing or even being listened to. There are still changes to be made today, but progress has occurred since the nineteenth century.

I suppose I should be happy that Hollywood makes a movie about an author’s struggles. It’s sad that it took bringing a one-hundred-fifty-year-old book back to the silver screen to make a good one. (And also sad that this director/screenwriter isn’t more recognized.) Of course, the plights of modern authors are so different now, but the moviegoer can at least experience some of our writers’ frustrations. The movie (maybe not the book?) is also more about the Civil War and its aftermath than feminism or the plight of authors. I only briefly saw one black face, though, so don’t look for a statement about racism in America either.

Old Concord looked awfully lily white but dreary in this movie. I lived in the Boston area for twenty-three years and in Concord for seven, and I must say I remember Concord looking much better. Maybe they could have edited the movie better, brightening it up a bit and including a few more black faces? Only some outside scenes—the vista after Jo rejects Laurie is memorable—showed how beautiful the New England area can be.

As usual, I watched the audience. I wasn’t the only guy there. There were a few “little women,” but most of the audience were grown-ups. Everyone seemed to exit the theater happy. The two-plus-hour-long film was slow at the beginning, but started to get livelier as it hummed along. I suppose people had a right to feel happy. You might enjoy it too, especially if you’re a fan of the book.

(Trying to catch up on reviews of movies you missed with Oscar season coming along? See my blog category “Movie Reviews.” Note that this one is # 82!)

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Comments are always welcome.

A. B. Carolan’s “little women.” If Alcott’s novel can be considered a YA novel, its young adults’ mischief can’t compare to the futuristic mischief created by the young adult main characters in A. B. Carolan’s three YA sci-fi mysteries, The Secret Lab, The Secret of the Urns, and Mind Games. Alcott’s story is dated; A.B.’s stories are evergreen and will never grow old. And Jo March is far too tame! Shashibala, Asako, and Della are little women who are mischievously fresh in comparison. Available in print and ebook formats at Amazon and ebook formats at Smashwords and all the latter’s affiliated retailers (iBooks, B&N, Kobo, etc.).

Around the world and to the stars! In libris libertas!

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