“I almost wish I hadn't any conscience, it's so inconvenient. If I didn't care about doing the right and didn't feel uncomfortable when doing wrong, I should get on capitally.”
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We had a sisters' night out on Friday night and, appropriately enough, went to see the new Little Women movie. I wasn't opposed to seeing the film, but wasn't excited either because- dark confession- Little Women was never one of my favourite books when I was a child. I have to the best of my recollection seen three adaptations of Louisa May Alcott's 1868 novel: the 1949 version, the 1994 film, and now the newest incarnation. I saw the 1949 version as a child and it doesn't seem to have made much of an impression on me; all I remember with any clarity is that Amy was played by a young Elizabeth Taylor. The 1994 adaptation was actually pretty good, with a lot of fine performances. Winona Ryder was a convincing Jo March and the rest of the cast was solid as well. In any case, being neither inordinately fond of the book nor wedded to any of the film adaptations, I was able to watch this new 2019 movie with an open mind. And it was... really quite good. Anyone familiar with the book (or movies) knows all of Little Women's major plot points and this film hits them all, though it changes things up by showing a lot of the events in flashbacks. This worked for me though, as I mentioned in my review of the 2011 adaptation of Jane Eyre, I can see how this approach might confuse someone who didn't already know the story. Indeed, one of my sisters was mildly annoyed because, every time there was a flashback or forward, the couple sitting next to her would have a whispered exchange, with the woman explaining to the man what was happening. Apparently the dude wasn't up to speed on Alcott's works... shocker. The cast was also very solid, with many turning in fine performances- Saoirse Ronan is great as Jo, Emma Watson a fine Meg, and Eliza Scanlon is a sympathetic Beth but not sickeningly sweet, which is always a danger with that character. Florence Pugh was particularly good as Amy, making her seem flawed but very relatably human. This film contrasts the character differences- and outlooks- between Jo and Amy more and, I think, more effectively than other versions. Meryl Streep was very good as Aunt March, and this is coming from someone who frequently finds Streep annoying. I went back and forth on Laura Dern as Marmee, sometimes liking the character and sometimes finding her just a wee bit too hippie-ish for my liking. Timothee Chalamet is also fine as Laurie, though I couldn't decide- and still haven't- if I liked his portrayal of the character more or less than Christian Bale's. One portrayal which I really did appreciate was that of Mr. Laurence, played by an almost unrecognisable Chris Cooper. The character is expanded and very effective in this version; it's very moving when, hearing Beth playing the piano once used by his deceased daughter, the elderly man sits on the stairs out of sight, quietly listening. I also liked the portrayal of Professor Bhaer by Louis Garrel more than that of Gabriel Byrne in the 1994 film. Though he gives a perfectly fine performance in the role I've never particularly liked Byrne in it, though I'm not sure I could come up with a valid reason for this negative feeling... I just don't like him as the professor. Something which I did like more about Little Women 1994 is that they had two different actresses playing Amy: a child actress- Kirsten Dunst- for the earlier scenes and an adult- Samantha Mathis- for the later ones. The 2019 version has the same actress playing Amy throughout, and I don't think this works nearly as well. For one thing, in the scene where Amy burns Jo's manuscript, this is a childish act of revenge but she's being played by a woman in her early 20's and all I could think was, 'Girl, you're way too old to be acting like that.' In addition, when Amy meets up with Laurie in Paris, he says, "How you've grown." But she hasn't: she's the same height and size she's been through the entire movie, as tall as all the other girls throughout though she's supposed to be appreciably younger- a child- in the earlier scenes. I will say, though, that as an adult character this is my favourite Amy. Another aspect of the film which annoyed me was the method used to portray people writing letters. Instead of showing the character writing- or reading- the letter and having a voice over of what it says, or showing the actual words on the page, the director made the odd decision to have the character face the screen and speak their letter as a monologue directly to the audience. This happens at least three times during the movie and took me right out of it... breaking the fourth wall like this seemed weird and distracting and affected. All in all, however, this is a very good adaptation of Little Women and I enjoyed watching- and discussing- it with my own sisters. Greta Gerwig (the director) is to be applauded for her work here, both for what she's done and also what she refrained from doing. Given the trash we've been getting in the form of film remakes recently, I was a bit afraid that this might turn out to be another feminist screed of 'women morally superior, men inferior (and evil/stupid)'. Thankfully, this was not the case. This movie doesn't ignore the difficulties and unfairness faced by women in this time period- indeed, it addresses them clearly and directly on numerous occasions. But it also doesn't make the people in the story into caricatures; the women have their strengths, their virtues, and their triumphs. But they also have their flaws, faults and failures and the same is true of the male characters. Essentially, the characters of both sexes in this film are human: well meaning, struggling to do the best they can in an imperfect, messy, often cruel but sometimes wonderful world. I also appreciate the importance placed on family here, and the need for it in both good times and bad... people you love to share in the triumphs and uphold one another during the tragedies. One moment which stands out for me is when Jo, who has refused Laurie's offer of marriage and moved to New York to pursue her dream of being a writer, returns home for Beth's final illness. After her sister's death, she confesses to Marmee that she's having second thoughts about everything, because she's horribly lonely, separated from family and friends... ambition is a cold companion. Contrary to a lot of modern narratives, this film at least introduces the idea that most people can't have everything they want: there are trade-offs and sacrifices which must be made. Everyone has regrets and roads not travelled, but that is life and not a cause for bitterness. It's great, of course, if one can fulfill one's dreams and be wildly successful at it, but if the cost is losing those you love- and who love you- well, who wants to end up like Aunt March, old and alone, having to pay people- even family- to spend time with you. Related Posts:A friend of mine moved to Newfoundland in the fall to attend school. She's been sharing pictures of the snowstorm they got walloped by the other day. Here's her car: Her apartment door, now doubling as a refrigerator: It reminds me of this section of Laura Ingalls Wilder's 1940 book The Long Winter, written about the brutal winter of 1880-81: One still morning, Laura came downstairs to find Ma looking surprised and Pa laughing. "Go look out the back door!" he told Laura. She ran through the lean-to and opened the back door. There was a rough, low tunnel going into shadows in gray-white snow. Its walls and its floor were snow and its snow roof solidly filled the top of the doorway. "I had to gopher my way to the stable this morning," Pa explained. "But what did you do with the snow?" Laura asked. "Oh, I made the tunnel as low as I could get through. I dug the snow out and pushed it back of me and up through a hole that I blocked with the last of it. There's nothing like snow for keeping out wind!" Pa rejoiced. "As long as that snowbank stands, I can do my chores in comfort." "How deep is the snow?" Ma wanted to know. "I can't say. It's piled up considerably deeper than the lean-to roof," Pa answered. "You don't mean to say this house is buried in snow!" Ma exclaimed. "A good thing if it is," Pa replied. "You notice the kitchen is warmer than it has been this winter?" Laura ran upstairs. She scratched a peephole on the window and put her eyes to it. She could hardly believe them. Main Street was level with her eyes. Across the glittering snow she could see the blank, square top of Harthorn's false front sticking up like a short piece of solid board fence. She heard a gay shout and then she saw horses' hoofs trotting rapidly before her eyes. Eight gray hoofs, with slender brown ankles swiftly bending and straightening, passed quickly by, and then a long sled with two pairs of boots standing on it. She crouched down, to look upward through the peephole, but the sled was gone. She saw only the sky sharp with sunlight that stabbed her eyes. She ran down to the warm kitchen to tell what she had seen. "The Wilder boys," Pa said. "They're hauling hay." "How do you know, P a ? " Laura asked him. "I only saw the horses' feet, and boots." "There's no one in town but those two, and me, that dares go out of town," said Pa. "Folks are afraid a blizzard'll come up. Those Wilder boys are hauling in all their slough hay from Big Slough and selling it for three dollars a load to burn." "Three dollars!" Ma exclaimed. "Yes, and fair enough for the risk they take. They're making a good thing out of it. Wish I could. But they've got coal to burn. I'll be glad if we have enough hay to last us through. I wasn't counting on it for our winter's fuel." " T h e y went by as high as the houses!" Laura exclaimed. She was still excited. It was strange to see horses' hoofs and a sled and boots in front of your eyes, as a little animal, a gopher, for instance, might see them. "It's a wonder they don't sink in the drifts," Ma said. "Oh, no." Pa was wolfing his toast and drinking his tea rapidly. " T h e y won't sink. These winds pack the snow as hard as a rock. David's shoes don't even make tracks on it. T h e only trouble's where the grass is lodged and loose underneath." Related Posts:“What the deuce is it to me?" he interrupted impatiently: "you say that we go round the sun. If we went round the moon it would not make a pennyworth of difference to me or to my work.” The above statement is from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's 1887 novel A Study In Scarlet, which is the first Sherlock Holmes story and contains the meeting between Holmes and Dr. Watson. When the two men become flatmates in 221B Baker Street, Watson becomes very curious about Holmes and endeavours to learn all he can about the eccentric genius. He finds that, while Holmes has an encyclopedic knowledge of a lot of topics, there are other ones- such as astronomy- that he's completely ignorant of, simply because they don't interest him. Here's the section of the book (part of chapter two) that it's from: As the weeks went by, my interest in him and my curiosity as to his aims in life, gradually deepened and increased. His very person and appearance were such as to strike the attention of the most casual observer. In height he was rather over six feet, and so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His eyes were sharp and piercing, save during those intervals of torpor to which I have alluded; and his thin, hawk-like nose gave his whole expression an air of alertness and decision. His chin, too, had the prominence and squareness which mark the man of determination. His hands were invariably blotted with ink and stained with chemicals, yet he was possessed of extraordinary delicacy of touch, as I frequently had occasion to observe when I watched him manipulating his fragile philosophical instruments. The reader may set me down as a hopeless busybody, when I confess how much this man stimulated my curiosity, and how often I endeavoured to break through the reticence which he showed on all that concerned himself. Before pronouncing judgment, however, be it remembered, how objectless was my life, and how little there was to engage my attention. My health forbade me from venturing out unless the weather was exceptionally genial, and I had no friends who would call upon me and break the monotony of my daily existence. Under these circumstances, I eagerly hailed the little mystery which hung around my companion, and spent much of my time in endeavouring to unravel it. He was not studying medicine. He had himself, in reply to a question, confirmed Stamford’s opinion upon that point. Neither did he appear to have pursued any course of reading which might fit him for a degree in science or any other recognized portal which would give him an entrance into the learned world. Yet his zeal for certain studies was remarkable, and within eccentric limits his knowledge was so extraordinarily ample and minute that his observations have fairly astounded me. Surely no man would work so hard or attain such precise information unless he had some definite end in view. Desultory readers are seldom remarkable for the exactness of their learning. No man burdens his mind with small matters unless he has some very good reason for doing so. His ignorance was as remarkable as his knowledge. Of contemporary literature, philosophy and politics he appeared to know next to nothing. Upon my quoting Thomas Carlyle, he inquired in the naivest way who he might be and what he had done. My surprise reached a climax, however, when I found incidentally that he was ignorant of the Copernican Theory and of the composition of the Solar System. That any civilized human being in this nineteenth century should not be aware that the earth travelled round the sun appeared to be to me such an extraordinary fact that I could hardly realize it. “You appear to be astonished,” he said, smiling at my expression of surprise. “Now that I do know it I shall do my best to forget it.” “To forget it!” “You see,” he explained, “I consider that a man’s brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skilful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to think that that little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. Depend upon it there comes a time when for every addition of knowledge you forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones.” “But the Solar System!” I protested. “What the deuce is it to me?” he interrupted impatiently; “you say that we go round the sun. If we went round the moon it would not make a pennyworth of difference to me or to my work.” I was on the point of asking him what that work might be, but something in his manner showed me that the question would be an unwelcome one. I pondered over our short conversation, however, and endeavoured to draw my deductions from it. He said that he would acquire no knowledge which did not bear upon his object. Therefore all the knowledge which he possessed was such as would be useful to him. I enumerated in my own mind all the various points upon which he had shown me that he was exceptionally well-informed. I even took a pencil and jotted them down. I could not help smiling at the document when I had completed it. It ran in this way-- SHERLOCK HOLMES—his limits. 1. Knowledge of Literature.—Nil. 2. Philosophy.—Nil. 3. Astronomy.—Nil. 4. Politics.—Feeble. 5. Botany.—Variable. Well up in belladonna, opium, and poisons generally. Knows nothing of practical gardening. 6. Geology.—Practical, but limited. Tells at a glance different soils from each other. After walks has shown me splashes upon his trousers, and told me by their colour and consistence in what part of London he had received them. 7. Chemistry.—Profound. 8. Anatomy.—Accurate, but unsystematic. 9. Sensational Literature.—Immense. He appears to know every detail of every horror perpetrated in the century. 10. Plays the violin well. 11. Is an expert singlestick player, boxer, and swordsman. 12. Has a good practical knowledge of British law. When I had got so far in my list I threw it into the fire in despair. “If I can only find what the fellow is driving at by reconciling all these accomplishments, and discovering a calling which needs them all,” I said to myself, “I may as well give up the attempt at once.”
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