Little Women (2019)

My little boy asked me what Little Women was about; he’s often curious about the movies I go see. I explained to him simply that it’s about four sisters growing up together during the Civil War. They help each other and others through hard times and celebrate the happy times. They play, laugh, fight a bit, and love each other to no end. He smiled and said that it sounds like our family. Perhaps that’s what Greta Gerwig, and Louisa May Alcott before her, had hoped for, that we would see the March family as our own, connect to their struggles, triumphs and misadventures. With the film’s PG rating, I half considered going again to take my son, but at 5 years old, movies without talking animals, robots or musical numbers aren’t likely to hold is attention. Maybe in a few years.

Never could I have imagined such a perfect cast for this story. Saorise Ronan leads the film as Jo, the second eldest March sister who dreams of being a writer and an independent woman, something very rare in 19th century America. In the present, she is living in New York, selling stories but comes home at the news of Beth (Eliza Scanlen), her younger sister, has fallen ill. The eldest sister, Meg (Emma Watson) has a husband, two little kids and quiet financial woes. Watson portrays this modest, yet happy lifestyle well, but with a twinge of longing for more. Amy (Florence Pugh), the youngest sister seems to feel left out at times and is often gone when life is at its hardest, either by inexperience or away with Aunt March (Meryl Streep). Timothee Chalemet plays Laurie, the rich boy next door who is often a playmate and potential romantic partner to the sisters as they grow up together. Laura Dern portrays the girls’ mother, a strong resilient woman who has to lead her girls alone while her husband, (Bob Odenkirk) is off at war.

I love how at times these actors are portraying children at play in one scene and grown women with children, personal, financial and professional problems in the next. It can often be hard to believe young people in their 20s portraying a young teen, but that rarely happens in this film. The magic is that they are so believable and recognizable in both instances. I loved Amy as a young, jealous sister, desperately wanting to keep up with Jo, and Pugh allows her to grow up gracefully while keeping that chip on her shoulder. Each actress does this with their characters so wonderfully.

One of my favorite, and most touching scenes happens towards the beginning of the film and helps set the perfect tone. It is Christmas morning and the girls wake to find a beautiful breakfast sprawled across the table for them. Before they begin, their mother returns from the cold to tell them that the woman down the road with five small children has no food for them and asks her girls to give their breakfast to her. There’s a moment of hesitation, they’re young, and looking at that food we can’t blame them. They all realize it’s the right thing to do. The image of them carrying picnic baskets together through the snow is wonderful, but the joy they bring to this poor woman and her children with so little is fantastic. You can feel the warmth of the kind act straight through the screen. You can imagine no greater joy has happened in that cold shack except that Christmas morning. And the girls are rewarded for their kindness.

This adaptation is so full of color, movement and life. We feel the exhilaration of the dances and galas the older girls attend. Meg’s wedding, while so modest by today’s standards, could be the envy of modern brides. It is so full of color, beauty and life. Moments of sadness are full of blue and gray shadows. The costumes, from modest coats and hats in the snow to beautiful ball dresses are all lovely and the color pallets seem to match the personalities of the character wearing it.

Gerwig writes the screenplay so that the saddest moment in the film as a focal point where the past and present timelines meet. It’s a wonderful trick to the writing and makes the idea of moving on even more poignant. This moment, which is no less devastating for those who already know that story, made the entire sold out theater I sat in cry together. It was a rare, beautiful moment. All around I could hear stifled sniffles and atmosphere was filled with silent, shared tears.

I could go on and on about Gerwig’s Little Women. I feel that its six Oscar nominations are not quite enough, I firmly believe Gerwig should have been nominated for best director. Best Picture, adapted screenplay, original score, costume design, supporting actress for Pugh and leading actress for Ronan are certainly nothing to take for granted. But instead of sounding too greedy, I must leave it at this: Never have I seen a movie that so perfectly describes the plight of these young 19th century women. Amy spells it out perfectly, how little rights and economic power she has and how marriage may not always be about love, but money and how complicated and heartbreaking that can be. Jo shows us this, as she struggles to be taken seriously as a writer while secretly longing for love. Meg shows us that while it is hard to struggle, love is worth it. And Beth breaks our hearts with her encouragement, music and kindness.

“Women, they have minds, and they have souls, as well as just hearts. And they’ve got ambition, and they’ve got talent, as well as just beauty. I’m so sick of people saying that love is just all a woman is fit for.”

Midsommar

Horror movies often capitalize on darkness, gloom and things that go bump in the night. In Ari Aster’s Midsommar, the main action happens where there is almost no night. This summer solstice festival in remote Sweden is full of bright, dazzling sunshine, flowing green grass and flowers in full bloom. It’s an idealistic pastoral setting, with everyone smiling, clad in white linen. It can be so hard to run from something so perfect, even as horrific events begin to unfold around you.

After a heartbreaking opening that I wouldn’t dare spoil, Dani (Florence Pugh) is depressed and probably longing for some purpose or escape. Her inattentive boyfriend, Christian (Jack Reynor), is all she has, so when he decides to go with his friends to Pelle’s village in Sweden for their midsommar festival, she tags along at the last moment. A quick cut from her being near tears in a friend’s apartment to fighting off a panic attack in the airplane shows the grief she’s hiding and fighting through all alone. 

Out in the middle of nowhere Sweden, Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren) introduces Dani, Christian, Josh (William Jackson Harper) and Mark (Will Poulter) to his brother and a nice British couple he brought along. They take some psychedelic drugs in the middle of a field before going to the village. Mark’s reaction adds some comedy, perfect for his American idiot character. Dani does not have a good trip. That image of grass growing out of her hand gave me chills. 

Once at the village, things start to pick up speed. There are short explanations about the village rituals, an elaborate meal and a couple gruesome deaths. It’s all part of the festivities, and with Josh and Christian being anthropology students, they try to keep an open mind, while the British couple are horrifically shocked, appalled and ready to leave. Dani is shaken but seems numb to it. It’s only the beginning, there’s still a drug fueled dancing competition, pube pies, grotesque mutilation, the worst one night stand ever. Like Burning Man, it ends in a spectacular fire. 

While I felt like the first hour dragged, I was always invested. There was always a building sense of dread, even in the slowest scenes, that kept me hooked. And soon, the big events of the film were coming quick and building the adrenaline along with the dread. The Maypole dancing scene was one of my favorites, with the music and dancing starting and stopping and getting faster every time. Dani loses herself in it while Christian broods before deciding to drink his tea, sealing his fate.

The visual effect that made the trees and flowers seem to breathe while Dani was under the drugs was one of my favorite moments in the film. I was so captivated and disturbed by that effect, it really helps us understand frightening, yet exhilarating high Dani was feeling. 

Everyone is comparing Midsommar to Aster’s previous film, Hereditary. They tackle similar subjects and bring about similar results, but they are night and day. Literally. Visually Midsommar is so bright and spacious while Hereditary is so dark and cramped. And to be honest, I didn’t find Midsommar nearly as scary, but I don’t think it’s meant to be. There are horrific and disturbing images, but nothing nearly as creepy as the last few minutes of Hereditary. But I guess that depends if you’re more afraid of the supernatural or tradition. That said, I guess Midsommar is more realistic and plausible of the two and that can be pretty damn scary. 

“Ignore the bear.”