Little Women has never been my cup of tea. I gravitate towards sweeping epics, rife with war and politics, crossing generations, continents and covering the spectrum of emotion. By its title alone, Louisa May Alcott’s novel always seemed the opposite: domestic; small. But home for the holidays with my girlfriend and her lovely family, I was overpowered and we took a Christmas trip to see Greta Gerwig’s 2019 adaptation.
It is seven days later and now I have watched the 1994 film, binged on interviews, podcasts, and articles about the story, and bought a copy of the book. I already feel a claim to the story of Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy. I like epics -- and Little Women is one.
My newfound interest has granted me access to what feels like a secret celebrity book club, and I listen with intent as Gerwig and her contemporaries analyze the sisters’ relationships, their struggle to stay together through illness and war, and their search for salvation through art and marriage. Gerwig explained how Alcott added Jo’s strange relationship with Professor Baer into the book as a wicked joke, after pressure from editors to marry Jo. Beanie Feldstein gushed to Florence Pugh about how the 2019 adaptation gave her newfound empathy for Amy, whom despite her ambitions to be a great painter and her desire for Lorrie, feels forced to think about marriage as an economic proposition.
Even behind the camera, the spirit of the novel is deeply felt. Saoirse Ronan confronted Greta Gerwig in 2017 after reading the script and stated, firmly and factually, that she will play Jo. Winona Ryder, at her peak as a film star in the early 90s, took on the role of Jo because she was inspired by a murdered 12-year old girl whose dream was to act in Little Women on the screen.
I am struck by how new it feels for women auteurs to mythologize their own filmmaking, describe their influences, and treat their films with such depth. Feldstein and Pugh, both stars in 2019 of women-directed movies, discussed their influences with all the gravitas of Pacino and De Niro:
Pugh: When you first read Booksmart were there any other teenage comedies or films that you took inspiration from? What did you grow up watching and how has any of that impacted you as a performer?
Feldstein: It’s so interesting because Kaitlyn [Dever, Booksmart co-star] and I were talking about that. Most of the memories we had of female friendships were on TV, they weren’t on screen. Lizzie Maguire, That’s So Raven.
Pugh: (clapping hands excitedly) Me too!
Feldstein: They were so prevalent in our lives, that’s what we thought about. But most of the films were mostly male-led.
Feldstein: For both of us, comedically Bridesmaids is always my heartbeat. I think I’ve already seen it 900 times.
Pugh: Is it your bible? It’s my bible.
Feldstein: To see that many women given their own film and all allowed to be so different in their comedy... each of the women has their own take on the world and their own humor, but it all works in the same space.
Realizing the short tradition of women in filmmaking also makes me aware of the ways in which it is difficult to even have rich conversations about women in films. Little Women is an old story, and period pieces have been consistently popular. But it is far easier to watch Scorsese’s The Irishman and compare it to the well-studied, 70-year corpus of gangster movies. And contextualizing Once Upon A Time...In Hollywood in Tarantino’s 30-year career provides much more fodder for film buffs than doing the same for Gerwig’s third film.
Gerwig cannot escape these comparisons. To wit: in an interview with Sean Fennessy on The Big Picture podcast, he stated that, in Saoirse Ronan, Gerwig had “found her De Niro.”
In this way, the 2019 film grows increasingly self-conscious as a film created by women. Near the end of the movie, Jo wonders aloud whether anyone will buy her book, simply tales of hijinks between her and her sisters.
“Writing doesn’t confer importance, it reflects it,” Jo says.
Amy disagrees. “Writing,” she says, “is what makes them important.”
Today, I will debate with my girlfriend on whether Amy is a redeemable character, or whether Timothee Chalamet or Christian Bale was the better Lorrie. She hates the 2019 version; I prefer it over 1994. Neither of us will cede ground. But our argument will continue, framed and re-framed, until another story captures our attention once more.