The Case for Amy and Laurie: Deconstructing Gender in Little Women A featured film analysis of Little Women (2019) Written by Bridget Raymundo1,2,3,4 Department of English, 2Women and Gender Studies Institute, 3Book and Media Studies (St. Michael’s College) 4 Second-year undergraduate of Victoria College, University of Toronto
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Capturing the complexity of gender in film has often been at the forefront of contemporary conversations— audiences crave authentic representation. Greta Gerwig has gained notoriety in recent years as an intelligent director; yet, she has continued to compel audiences in her approach to screenwriting. The depth of the page and how Gerwig translates her words to the screen creates a fluidity within her characters beyond conventional representations of gender. Her second film, Little Women imbues new life into a classic story. Through a controlled chaotic dialogue, interweaving past and present, and just a sprinkle of modernity, Gerwig has created a script that communicates youth and all its unknowable complexities. While the protagonist, Jo March, is also reinvigorated in this retelling, Gerwig’s adaptation has shifted perspectives on two characters previously villainized for their choices: Laurie and Amy. Laurie, often seen as Jo’s other half becomes the male on-looker, as much of Gerwig’s description of him is in admiring the little women, who then become the focus. Amy, as the antithesis to Jo suddenly becomes more similar than ever to her sister in her quest for independence. Neither Laurie nor Amy are the central figures of this story; however, they are symbolic of a tender nature Marmee claims is “too noble to curb, too lofty to bend”. Amy, in particular, has always been somewhat detested by readers and viewers, and critiqued for her seemingly shallow dreams. Gerwig rejects this claim in her writing, and Amy’s highly in-tune sense of self distinguishes her from past interpretations. Laurie does not understand Amy’s fixation on attaining wealth and he remarks, “I understand queens of society can’t go on without money. But it does sound odd coming from one of your mother’s girls”. Amy’s aspiration to marry rich, while commonplace in society at the time, is a radical diversion from the norms of the March women. Even Meg, who wants a traditional home and family, marries for love over wealth. Thus, Amy’s goal in marrying rich is understandably misinterpreted as anti-feminist. However, Gerwig suggests an alternative pragmatic motivation to the idea of “marrying rich” that is later repeated by Jo. Amy retorts to Laurie, “Even if I had my own money, which I don’t, it would belong to my husband the moment we were married... So don’t sit there and tell me that marriage isn’t an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it most certainly is for me”. Amy is identifying a base distinction between men and women in this period. Laurie has a choice to be romantic and non-conforming, Amy does not. She feels a responsibility to her family, and because of that burden, Amy’s ladder-climb into high society becomes the furthest from a self-centered ambition. Amy’s sense of obligation originates in the parallel narrative of childhood when Amy stays with her aunt. Aunt March, who represents the ideal of self-sufficiency to the March sisters, heeds Amy, “You are your family’s hope now… So you must marry well and save your family”. These two characters become the most companionable as they both understand the transactional nature of marriage. While Amy also desires to be loved, unlike her sisters, she is not driven by this desire— her ideal goal is to be respected by her peers in society. Amy knows that the most sensible way to provide for her family financially is to marry the richest suitor. She understood how to navigate a system designed to suppress her and instead, reclaims the dominant narratives of being a “lady” for her own economic gain. Screenwriters’ Perspectives Vol. 1 No. 1 2020
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