The Case for Amy and Laurie: Deconstructing Gender in Little Women

A featured film analysis by Bridget Raymundo

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.

In this adaptation, Laurie is essentially the fifth March sister—he acts as the bridge between these two gendered worlds, and Gerwig makes it known how different domestic lives can be. She writes, “Mr. Laurence sits with his grandson, Laurie, his grandson’s tutor, Mr. Brooks. It is quiet and proper, the opposite of the merry mayhem of the March household”. The “mayhem” Gerwig refers to is the interrupting dialogue used throughout the film, where the sisters will often talk over one another to create a seamless and natural rhythm of words. The symmetry of the dialogue is one facet of the greater framework Gerwig establishes in the co-consecutive narratives of childhood and young adulthood. Laurie comes from a privileged upbringing and is expected to be a gentleman of society, and yet the place of propriety that should feel comfortable to him becomes a world he rejects. Apart from the women Laurie is conveyed as a shy and reserved character. For instance, he is hidden from the rest of the party where he meets Jo and is often looking longingly at the March house in front of his grandfather and tutor. Laurie is initially unsure of where he fits into the dynamic of the girls, then as he journeys through adolescence, he finds his place there. In the script, Gerwig describes that Marmee, “sees his loneliness, his lack of a mother”, which suggests that the March’s represent a feminine world he has previously been denied. Beyond his desire for a motherly figure, Laurie is consistently shown as an admirer of womanhood. Within Jo and Laurie’s first interaction, it is written that, “Laurie doesn’t look disappointed that [Jo’s] a girl at all”. This demonstrates that femininity is not a disadvantage to him, in fact, it becomes something he aspires to. He observes the March women in their entirety, independent from their beauty or gender. Laurie identifies with a household Gerwig describes as a, “slightly medieval utopia of artists and thinkers”, which differs from the business-minded world of his grandfather. The only time Laurie diverts from his tender nature is in the present storyline where most of the women, him included, are “without a sense of direction” in life. He is seen drinking and courting women without any real aim. Gerwig clarifies that the reason he has fallen into the trap of male conformity is because in the parallel storyline he’s lost his other half in Jo and as a result, his ability to be his former vulnerable and tender-hearted self. Through his relationship with Amy, which is finally given the depth it deserves, Laurie is able to regain the romanticism of his adolescence.

The entire storyline of both Amy and Laurie is building towards this moment in present day Paris where the two characters are finally honest with one another. Through their dialogue, Amy and Laurie both get in passion when Laurie alludes to his growing feelings for Amy. Gerwig prefaces, “Laurie gets very intense all of the sudden, words rush out”. Laurie goes on to tell Amy not to marry Fred and as he draws closer to her, he is vulnerable again for the first time since Jo broke his heart. Yet, just as Laurie’s protective walls come down, Amy is quick to shield herself, responding, “I have been second to Jo my whole life in everything and I will not be the person you settle for just because you cannot have her. I won’t do it, not when… I’ve spent my entire life loving you”. This line reveals two fundamental aspects of Amy’s character: she will always value being treated fairly over misplaced adoration, and despite her sense of practicality she is also, by nature, a romantic. Gerwig reinforces Amy’s secret tendency for longing through a humorous transition to childhood in the following scene where younger Amy says, “I’m making a mold of my foot for Laurie to remind him I have nice feet”. Amy’s admittance of feelings for Laurie conveys to the audience that Amy has always loved in the same way Laurie has— youthfully and wholeheartedly. Nonetheless, Gerwig does not admonish this way of loving or treat it as independent from a rational mind. If these characters are meant to be progressive, the dreamer and the realist must work in tandem. The unification of these two characters argues that emotion is not separate from reason, as Gerwig remarks, “This is the way it was meant”. The genius of Gerwig’s writing is that these characters, although distanced from us by over a century feel real and genuine because they simply get to be young and not downplayed for their emotion. The superiority of age is a problem of many older writers who write young characters. What makes her writing so powerful is that she does not conform to dominant male-centred narratives. Ultimately, Gerwig becomes a force of feminine empowerment, and through her subversive approach to storytelling, her characters are given the chance to breathe.