Dismantling the Stereotypical Nature of the “Strong Woman” in Greta Gerwig’s Little Women Written by Eden Prosser1,2,3 1 Department of English, 2Department of History, Department of Classics 3 Fourth-year undergraduate of Trinity College, University of Toronto
In an era so oft hailed as progressive, one might expect to find strong women across the small and silver screens. And yet, when Greta Gerwig’s Little Women (2019) first graced the theatre, it felt different than any project that had come before. Here were four women, who were not simply defined by their physical strength or “notlike-other-girls”-ness, but were instead unique and multi-faceted. Through their trials and tribulations, they each demonstrated inner power, showing that one need not hide their more feminine qualities to be accepted in a wide world full of men. In Gerwig’s lush and nuanced script, each of the four March sisters undergoes a blossoming arc in which they learn to define who they are, what they want, and how they are going to get there. And yet, these are overarching arcs, stretching across 135 minutes of glorious development. Throughout this time, beliefs are dismantled, stereotypes are dismissed, and women are portrayed in ways they have never been before. One such young March sister is Jo, the feisty protagonist: a writer unafraid to share her truth, who learns to shoulder love through the progression of her story.
To Make it in a Man’s World, One Must Hide That Which Makes Them a Woman From their very first introduction, the four March girls appear different as can be. Meg, the eldest, is traditional: caring for child-rearing and marriage, carrying on the family legacy. Beth, the youngest, is quiet and demure, content to play the day away at her piano. Amy, the brash and naïve middle child, is rife with dreams and craves all the attention. In contrast, there is Jo. Josephine “Jo” March, the traditional protagonist of Alcott’s initial tale. She is introduced as a tomboy: preferring trousers over tulle and lessons over love. Early in the film, she informs her aunt that she has no intention of ever marrying; she instead intents to “make [her] own way in the world,” presumably through intellectual and authorly pursuits (35:20). Her sisters even jokingly refer to her as their “only brother,” despite her female sex (32:16). In short, she is the antithesis of the eighteenth-century woman: a characterization Gerwig steadfastly leans into. Screenwriters’ Perspectives Vol. 3 No. 1 2022
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