Greta Gerwig’s freewheeling adaptation is the definition of a festive spirit-raiser, sending the sisters on a giddy and moving march to womanhoodI hadn’t really been looking forward to Little Women.
I didn’t love the book, nor the other four film versions, nor the innumerable times it’s been adapted for telly.
Even more sacrilegiously, I didn’t much like Lady Bird, Greta Gerwig’s previous Saoirse Ronan/Timothée Chalamet love-in.
My Chalamet allergy, kept in abeyance at that stage by his scant airtime, has considerably worsened in the two years since.Plus, I’m a bit iffy on films that appear to co-opt a post-MeToo manifesto for a period tale.
Hence my reticence.
And, perhaps, my evangelistic zeal after the screening.
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