I remember my mother giving me the book by Louisa May Alcott to read when I was little and then she introduced me to the films too.
JO MARCH LITTLE WOMEN MOVIE
It's so striking a redirection of narrative focus that many have wondered if Jo didn't get married to Bhaer at all in Gerwig's version.My latest hairstyle tutorials are inspired by the movie LITTLE WOMEN. But rather than show Jo's wedding, as would otherwise be natural for a story that revolved around the central tension of who does she end up with?, we see a beautiful montage of the bookbinding process, complete with a shot of Jo (Alcott?) looking, with maternal love and affection, at her newborn novel. What follows is Jo's marriage to the professor - at least he is marginally less odious in her version than in Alcott's - complete with a tonally odd, climactic rush to the train station to stop him from leaving for California. The publisher wants her protagonist married off Jo eventually agrees. Still, there is Jo's great compromise at the end of the film. Gerwig's movie is a bildungsroman, certainly, but maybe even more so it is a kind of visual craft essay, illustrating that writing isn't something you're born with, or suddenly possessed by, but have to struggle through long years of hard work to improve. When arguing with Bhaer, she also mentions her numerous rejections in the pursuit of her dream of making a living through her writing. Importantly, we see the hardships of her work too, including the gutting loss of her book-in-progress (due to a fit of rage by her sister Amy today it might be forgetting to hit "save" before a computer crash). In one montage, she obsesses over her novel's structure, laying out pages to dry and staring at the result. Instead of being a preternaturally gifted writer, we see Jo put in the work, from stretching her cramped, ink-stained fingers to her rush to put pen to paper when seized by inspiration. The difference with Gerwig's creative liberties, then, is that she makes Jo's craft the heart of the movie rather than a mere narrative shortcut. Maybe most inexplicably of all, in Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby, Nick Carraway - a bond salesman in Fitzgerald's original - is inspired to pen. Film directors in particular seem unable to resist the trope: In David Fincher's Zodiac, the cartoonist Robert Graysmith decides to write true crime despite it never having been suggested previously in the movie that he was a writer. Over the years, though, the device has become an uninspired crutch for framing a story: Bilbo Baggins, returning from his incredible journey in The Hobbit, is suddenly possessed to write his story down despite basically not having shown any inclinations prior. Presenting a story as having been written by one of its fictional characters was actually a common 19th-century metafictional literary device used by the likes of Dickens and Swift, although, interestingly, not by Alcott. Alcott,' reappears in identical form at the end - all except for the name, which has become 'J.M. This is made entirely explicit as Dana Stevens points out in her review at Slate, "he leather-bound edition of Little Women that serves as the movie's opening title, its red leather cover stamped in gold with the name 'L.M. The result requires Gerwig setting up Little Women as a sort of frame story, book-ended by Jo negotiating with her publisher, first over a short story and later over the novel Little Women itself. But in this case, the change fits, elevating Alcott's original story from being one about unfulfilled artistic ambition, into one, uniquely, about craft. It's a not-terribly-uncommon framing device that has been used by many other directors - often coming across as trite and lazy. The choice to conflate Little Women (the book) with Little Women (the 2019 adaptation) doesn't stop at the font, though in an enormous and significant departure from the novel, Gerwig has her protagonist, Jo March (Saoirse Ronan), author Little Women herself in the movie as a sort of Alcott stand-in. It was, rather, the exact same font used on the first edition covers of Louisa May Alcott's novel when it came out in 1868. The Little Women font wasn't a design firm's misguided attempt at something quirky and feminine, though. When the initial artwork for the movie was released this fall, fans were struck by the odd choice of lettering on the poster: a narrow and tall sans-serif font with uneven leading, which seemed out-of-step with 2019's otherwise bold movie typefaces. Everything you need to know about Greta Gerwig's adaptation of Little Women you can learn from the font.
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