I watched Little Women (2019) and I didn’t like it. 2.5/5
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Greta Gerwig’s Little Women (2019) is an ambitious and visually stunning adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s beloved novel, but despite its lofty goals, it struggles to capture the emotional warmth and heartfelt sincerity that made earlier versions of this story so timeless. Compared to the tender charm of Gillian Armstrong’s 1994 adaptation and the earnest simplicity of George Cukor’s 1933 film, Gerwig’s take on the March sisters feels oddly detached, its non-linear storytelling choices undermining the emotional weight of the narrative. While there are commendable performances and artistic flourishes, this Little Women left me feeling more frustrated than enchanted.
A Non-Linear Structure That Undermines the Story
Let’s address the elephant in the room: the non-linear storytelling. Gerwig chooses to interweave timelines, jumping back and forth between the sisters’ younger years and their adult lives. While this approach is clearly meant to juxtapose the joy of their youth with the hardships of adulthood, the execution feels unnecessarily convoluted. Moments that should hit like an emotional gut-punch are diluted because we’re constantly bouncing between timelines. For instance, Beth’s illness—which is such a pivotal, heartbreaking part of the story—loses its impact because the timeline robs it of the natural build-up and payoff.
In contrast, the 1994 version follows a more traditional linear structure, allowing us to fully invest in the sisters’ growth and relationships over time. The emotional beats in Armstrong’s film land so much harder because we experience the story as it unfolds, rather than piecing it together in fragments. The 2019 film, by comparison, feels like it’s trying to be clever for the sake of cleverness, sacrificing emotional resonance along the way.
A Lack of Warmth and Heart
Another key issue with this version is its tone. Little Women (2019) is, at its core, a story about family, love, and resilience. It should feel warm and intimate, like sitting by the fire on a snowy evening. But Gerwig’s adaptation feels strangely cold and clinical. The relationships between the sisters don’t carry the same depth or authenticity as they did in the 1994 or 1933 versions.
Take Jo and Beth, for example. Their bond is central to the story, yet here it feels underdeveloped. Beth’s quiet courage and Jo’s fierce protectiveness of her sister are hinted at but never fully explored. When Beth’s arc reaches its inevitable conclusion, it doesn’t tug at the heartstrings the way it should. Compare that to Claire Danes’ devastatingly heartfelt performance in the 1994 version, which left me in tears every time.
Even the romantic dynamics feel underwhelming. Laurie’s relationship with Jo feels rushed, and his eventual pairing with Amy lacks the spark or chemistry needed to sell such a controversial plot point.
Florence Pugh: A Miscast Amy
Now, let’s talk about Florence Pugh as Amy. While Pugh is undeniably a talented actress, her casting as both the child and adult versions of Amy is baffling. She’s simply too old to convincingly play the teenage version of the character. Watching Pugh—a grown woman—pout and throw tantrums as if she’s 12 is jarring and takes you out of the story. It’s especially bizarre when compared to the 1994 film, which wisely cast Kirsten Dunst as young Amy and Samantha Mathis as her older counterpart. Dunst captured Amy’s bratty, spoiled nature with just the right amount of charm, making her transformation into a mature adult all the more satisfying. Pugh, by contrast, feels stuck in a weird in-between space, unable to fully embody either the immature Amy or the refined one.
Strong Performances, But They Can’t Save the Film
To be fair, the cast does have its high points. Saoirse Ronan delivers a compelling performance as Jo, capturing her fierce independence and ambition, though she doesn’t quite reach the heights of Winona Ryder’s portrayal in the 1994 version. Timothée Chalamet is charismatic as Laurie, though his boyish charm doesn’t quite match Christian Bale’s iconic turn in the role. Laura Dern’s Marmee is warm and supportive, but she lacks the gravitas of Susan Sarandon in the 1994 film.
Visually, the film is gorgeous, with lush cinematography and period-accurate costumes that give it a painterly quality. The aesthetic choices are undeniably beautiful, but they often feel like style over substance, as if the film is more concerned with looking pretty than connecting with its audience on an emotional level.
Final Thoughts: Ambitious, But Not Quite There
Ultimately, Little Women (2019) is a mixed bag. It’s a visually striking film with a talented cast, but its structural choices and emotional distance prevent it from achieving the same timeless appeal as its predecessors. The non-linear storytelling feels like an unnecessary gimmick, and Florence Pugh’s miscasting as Amy detracts from one of the central character arcs. Compared to the warmth and emotional depth of the 1994 and 1933 adaptations, this version feels like a step backward.
That said, there are moments of brilliance scattered throughout, and I can see why some viewers might appreciate Gerwig’s modernized take. For me, though, it simply didn’t capture the magic that makes Little Women such a beloved story.