Dir.: Greta Gerwig; Cast: Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Florence Pugh, Eliza Scanien, Laura Dern, Timothee Chalamet, Tracy Letts, Meryl Streep, Louis Garrel; USA 2019, 134 min.
Filming a classic novel is risky business, particular one that’s been adapted at least five times adapted as in the case of Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. Sophomore filmmaker Greta Gerwig comes up against George Cukor’s 1933 version, Melvin Le Roy’s 1949 feature, and Gillian Armstrong’s more contemporary version of 1994. Gerwig opts for opulence, an overkill of classical music (eleven composers, including Desplat) and a rather theatrical setting. The result is looks wonderful, the cast led by Saoirse Ronan and Laura Dern is strong – but somehow something is missing. In trying to create an American costume classic, Gerwig shows too much respect for the original novel. Its operatic indulgence leads to an inflated running time making it worthy but rather dutiful, po-faced rather than eloquent, and heavy on uptight performances.
Set around the years of the American Civil War the story is underpinned by Laura Dern’s Marmee Marsh, who tries her best to make her four daughters resilient during hard times. Jo (Ronan) is the rebel and writer, always at war with editors, sisters, suitors and herself; May (Watson) is soulful, but also pragmatic; Amy (Pugh) is the least likeable with her opportunistic streak; and long-suffering Beth (Scanien) succumbs to scarlet fever. The Marsh family is considered to be hard-up, in contrast to the grandiose but beneficent Mr. Dashwood (Letts), who lives in great splendour but mourns his lost daughter. He sends his grand piano over to Marsh house so that the sickly Beth can enjoy playing it. The main male attraction is represented by the elfin Theodore Laurence (Chalamet), who is madly in love with Jo, but ends up with Amy, who has not only inherited aunt March’s big fortune (a fastidious Meryl Streep), but she also snaffles Laurence from the Jo, who was his first choice. But Jo doesn’t bear a grudge, and goes onto a better match in the shape of Louis Garrel’s professor Bhaer. Although May and Amy finally have to cajole Jo into accepting the sultry French pianist.
Gerwig stages this Proto-Feminist Bildungsroman as a series of tableaux, which are beautifully constructed by PD Jess Gonchor (No Country for Old Men), but often difficult other too episodic to follow. Shot in Boston, Harvard and Concord, Gonchor makes the most of the daylight in these locations, particularly those set in Paris, in the Arnold Arboretum where Florence fetches up with aunt March, on their grand tour. At night, we get oil lamps and candles, even if the sun is shining brightly outside. DoP Yorick Le Saux (Personal Shopper) aims to emulate Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon and occasionally pulls it off.
This is a sumptuous spectacle, but Gerwig puts too much emphasis on the mass scenes: a case in point is the closing sequence when the Dashwood house is transformed into a school. One suspects, that the director really wanted to show off the generous budget of 42 million dollars- a rather steep spend after her indie gem Lady Bird. But Gerwig tries to be too clever with her script which is hampered by countless flashbacks, confusing the audience with its artfulness. There is also a redundant dream sequence, when Jo dreams that Beth survives, just before her actual death.
Gerwig’s feature is far too ambitious in its attempts to capture the spirit of the novel. Often too saccharine, a touch of Douglas Sirk’s melodramatic acerbity would have gone down a treat, but may be she was aiming to appeal to children as well as adult audiences here. Little Women feels like the work of a veteran director, rather than a refreshing radical such as Gerwig. AS
ON RELEASE FROM 26 DECEMBER 2019