Every filmed version of a beloved story will have some things that are ho-hum and some that are the best of any of the movies. For Little Women (2017), a three-part miniseries, Emily Watson’s Marmee is a triumph. Top actresses are cast as Marmee, so the field is particularly strong. Watson’s work and the script she’s given to deliver are truthful, painful, and joyous. This is a must-watch.
Some of the other choices, however, are not as strong. Let’s look.
ONE
At three hours runtime, LW2017 can add details the others leave out. We get Father March at the war right away. Both parents are much more present throughout, giving a complete family in the storytelling.
The very first scene has the girls trimming a lock of hair to send to him for Christmas. It’s a very weird sequence, though. Close-ups, corset laces, shadows, scissor blades . . . why shoot this like soft-core thriller content?
TWO
As Marmee returns home she crosses paths in the road with Laurie in the carriage, coming to Grandfather’s house for the first time. Laurie is Trouble, of course. He disrupts the March life in many ways. It’s not the most visually descriptive or inventive Two, though.
THREE
I am utterly and totally making something up here. We see Father, still nursing the sick in the war, cover the body of a man who’s died. Again, this is a strange choice. It establishes Father, the war, and, most pertinent of all, death. We all know what happens later with Beth. Does this moment foreshadow or portend that? I don’t think so. We know nothing about this corpse and have no connection to it.
But here it is, sitting after the Two and before the Four, so it’s what we have to work with.
FOUR
Taking Christmas breakfast to the Hummels, burning Meg’s hair off, twisting the ankle, working for Aunt March, and writing in the attic. All the familiar Four moments are here. Some notable differences, though: Mr. Brooke, who’s given a meatier role, carries Meg inside after her ankle sprain. Their romance is given screentime.
Marmee cracks the whip about going to work and school. This family is not as industrious, at least willingly, as other Marches. You could say that these characters are more fully fleshed because they have a dark side to go with the light.
When Amy is denied a chance at the theater and burns Jo’s book in retaliation, this version more clearly has Jo say, “You haven’t been asked.” We don’t usually think of Jo as a stickler for the rules and for manners. No one, as far as I’m concerned, can justify what Amy does, but this version tries. Jo is not just careless or distracted, she genuinely looks Amy in the eye and refuses her. And when Amy falls through the ice while skating, the whole rescue is so realistic that a known scene feels perilous and freshly told.
Throughout the versions of the Four, Marmee often has a scene where she tells Jo about her own anger. It’s a nice moment usually, but here Watson nails it to the wall. Of all the times she makes me cry with her honesty and intensity, this is the first. A little later, when Marmee tries to pack after receiving the telegram about Father in the hospital, is the second time she gets me sobbing like a child.
SWITCH
The Four continues on through Beth’s illness. Her fever breaks just as Marmee arrives home. It reminds me a little of Sense and Sensibility when Mrs. Dashwood comes running to be at Marianne’s bedside, only to arrive after the worst has passed. Can’t these writers bring the mother in when the impact is greater and the daughter is still in danger? Harrumph!
FIVE
Meg’s courtship with John Brooke has more details here than any other version. He goes off to war and is wounded.
Jo writes a novel. She’s in the attic writing all the time but on what isn’t clear. She sells stories, and apparently she writes a thrilling book in the same vein. Later she has a vehement conversation with her father about getting paid for this book. She’s pretty judgmental with him and harsh. You’ll find that most of the Five has Jo angry. Her refusals of Laurie are consistent and clear. She goes to New York and meets Professor Bhaer.
Meanwhile, Amy becomes Aunt March’s companion and is invited to Europe. Beth finally admits to Jo and then Marmee that she’s dying. Here again Watson is devastating.
SIX
Beth dies. Father is there, holding Jo in a chair while Marmee nurses Beth through her last moments. You can see why I grabbed onto Father at the Three. It’s a thin thread, and I don’t think the filmmakers intended to make that connection, but if I were the editor I would’ve pumped the mirror as much as I could. Father isn’t some remote Santa Claus-looking figure in this version. Anchoring key beats around him is a good idea.
SEVEN
This beat did. Jo, grieving, comes to Father for advice. “Help me.” He tells her to write. It’s a sweet moment.
EIGHT
Jo writes a poem and sends it to be published. It’s her first effort at a deep, heartfelt piece. The novel “Little Women” isn’t produced in this version. Or, at least, that’s how I interpreted it. My expectations were upended, which isn’t always wise.
Professor Bhaer clips the poem from the magazine and saves it. He’s back in the game, baby. (His character tends to disappear during many life events.)
Laurie and Amy, still overseas, agree to marry. When a letter announcing their engagement arrives home, Marmee asks Jo is she is bothered. “No.” Jo fears she might’ve said yes to Laurie for all the wrong reasons if he’d asked her again.
Family business is wrapped up. Bhaer comes to town under the umbrella in the rain.
NINE
The Academy school, filled with children. They all lived happily ever after.
CRITICAL NOTES
Have I gushed too much over Emily Watson’s Marmee? I do believe if you watched it you wouldn’t be disappointed, no matter how much praise I heap. She means so much to me because she exemplifies the trials we all face, especially as women and mothers. You want what’s best for your children. That’s a small suffering. You face illness and even tragedy. That’s a large suffering. Yet in that Six moment when Beth is passing, Marmee finds the strength to say the most beautiful, heartbreaking thing anyone could say. An actor and a writer have captured a truth, and a director has recognized and documented the moment. Kudos to all.