A film brimming with intimacy and cosy hearths to sit by, Greta Gerwig's Little Women is a tightly knit family drama set against beautiful Concord with Desplat's mellifluous score stroking the ears of the audience.
All performances are fabulous, particularly Florence Pugh who is achieving her rising star fame, one success at a time. The cinematography from Yorick Le Saux is, at times, mesmerising and Gerwig's direction, particularly on the intimate, chaotic family scenes, shines.
I haven't read the original novel; a crime so heinous that I, myself, would dress in a meat suit and let the dogs have me. I knew nothing about the story, apart from the central sisters, so the plot and its effects were profound. I found myself welling up at moments. But, was I welling up at the film or the novel? Judging from other reviews, the latter is more likely. But, has Gerwig created her own Little Women? Or has she simply reflected Louisa May Alcott's novel? Having only experienced one, I cannot say, but I think there is definitely a debate to be had, as there is with all adaptations.
In summary, Gerwig delivers a sepia reel of intimacy, where one feels welcome to every meal in the March family home. Yes, there are dark times, but there is an equally summary one to combat it. Does Gerwig reflect Alcott's novel whilst creating an enjoyable film? Certainly. Should I just read the novel? Probably.
