Musical Version of Little Women Lacks Luster, but Foster Shines

Little Women, the famously heart-warming and heart-wrenching story about a mother and her four daughters, is a classic that never seems stale. Until it hit Broadway, that is.

A new musical version of Little Women retains little of the heart that was so profound in the original novel, turning what was once a warm and elegant tale into farce.

The flesh-and-blood characters of the original, who Louisa May Alcott based on herself and her immediate family, are reduced here to paper doll cut-outs that aesthetically please, but lack substance. Their two-dimensional and flimsy depiction causes the story to deteriorate, as the audience cannot enter their lives and inner struggles without first empathizing with real characters. The scenery, though picturesque, only reinforces the feeling that the audience is watching a life-size storybook.

The most disheartening aspect of the musical is, however, the lighthearted manner in which Alan Knee’s book treats the story’s serious events. An air of triviality and frivolity surrounds the Civil War-era March family—Meg, Jo, Beth, Amy, and their mother, whom they call Marmee (Maureen McGovern)—during their darkest moments. In this production, directed by Susan Schulman, the characters seem perennially happy, undaunted by the bloody war that snatches more and more fathers away from their homes with each passing day (including their own father).

Composer-lyricist team Mindi Dickstein and Jason Howland give McGovern only one brief song in which to express the difficulty of raising four girls, and even then we aren’t given so much as a glimpse into the turmoil within Marmee’s mind and outside the home as much as we are teased into wanting to know more. A taciturn promise is forged between Marmee and the audience at that point; she promises to let us in on her thoughts. But this promise is broken as the play continues.

One of the most powerful moments in the original novel comes when Marmee receives news that her husband is wounded in the war and needs her with him, yet the family doesn’t have the financial means necessary to make that possible. In an act of selflessness, Jo (Sutton Foster) sells the one thing that she can—her long, luxurious hair. It is an immense sacrifice for Jo; modern audiences should keep in mind that it was an even greater sacrifice than we can fathom today when short hair on women is widely accepted. The relief, pride, and selflessness swells into one of the most touching and poignant snapshots of the loving family. In the play, however, this scene is so utterly lacking in sincerity that it is almost humorous.

Amidst all of the inconsistencies and disappointments of the adaptation, there is a redeeming quality to this production—star, Sutton Foster. Her portrayal of the spirited Jo is so fluidly natural that at times she almost breaks out of the idealized storybook cage in which she is imprisoned. The power and earnestness in her solo numbers makes it seem like she is searching for some trace of dramatic weight in the forgettable pop score.

As much as this production would like to, it is impossible to take all of the trials and suffering associated with growing up, make a lighthearted joke, sing a blasé song, and tie it all up with a pretty bow—especially not with a classic novel of this magnitude. Unfortunately for audiences, the warmth and simple elegance so vital to the original story did not make the journey from the page to the stage.