Sisterhood of ‘Little Women’ Bridges Generations of Fans

In “Little Women,” the heroines of Louisa May Alcott’s 19th-Century classic--sisters Jo, Meg, Beth and Amy March--come of age under the rather 20th-Century feminist guidance of their loving mother, Marmee, while their father is off fighting the Civil War. (Rated PG)

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Several weeks after release, “Little Women” is still playing to theaters filled largely, it appears, with mothers and daughters and their Kleenex.

They come because the mothers read Alcott’s novel as children and want to perpetuate a family tradition. Or because they always meant to read it. Or because teachers have assigned the girls to see the movie or read the book.

Even the hippest kids who were expecting a treacly homage to perfect families gave the movie an A.

Regardless of the period costumes and quaint language (“Oh, blast!”), they could still relate to the young women as individuals--Jo, the hot-tempered writer; Meg, the domestic traditionalist; Beth, the Good Samaritan, and Amy, the youngest and most materialistic.

The family is struggling financially just as the girls are growing up and preparing to leave home. Marmee, both idealistic and practical, wants her daughters to marry--but hopes money will place second to love. At the same time, she urges them to hone their individual talents, eschewing corsets and restrictions for a more liberating life of education and self-improvement.

The sisters’ bonds, said to be stronger than any marriage they will have, are tested through the arrival of Laurie, a friendly and wealthy boy who moves in next door, through the different paths they choose and through death.

Nearly all viewers agreed the most moving scene was when Beth died.

“I really cried, I thought it was so good,” said Jessica Agee, 13. “I cried in the book, too, when Beth died, and when Jo turned down Laurie” after he proposed to her. Jessica said the book was “way better” because it had more details.

Lindsay Ruoff, 8, and her mother, Karen Kirby, said they were going to go home and start reading the book. Said Kirby: “My mom and I read it together when I was my daughter’s age. We’re going to do the same thing. She’d read one chapter one night, I’d read one the next night, until we got through the book. It brought back memories.”

Nearly everyone had a favorite character. Kirby said hers was Jo. But her daughter preferred Amy because “she was the smallest.”

Jessica said she liked Jo. “She seemed like me. She wasn’t always good, not always bad. She wasn’t perfect. She wasn’t terrible. She was, like, human.”

Jessica’s friend Patricia Tran, 12, said she preferred Amy who, when young, tells her sisters: “ ‘We’ll all grow up someday; we might as well know what we want.’ She was open, she knew what to say.”

While plenty of men went with wives or girlfriends to the movie, young boys were scarce.

Trevor Carney, 10, went with his mother and sister Theresa, 12. Theresa thought boys might be embarrassed to go, but Trevor insisted the movie is not just for girls and gave it an A-plus. “I liked it,” he said.

Jessica wasn’t sure boys she knew would like the movie because it’s “sensitive.”

“If they’re sensitive, they’d like it,” Patricia argued.

“Do we know a lot of sensitive guys?” Jessica asked. “No, I don’t think so.”

But if boys saw it, she said, “they would realize the power that girls have, too, what they can do. Like Jo became a good writer, and she didn’t think she’d make it. I think it teaches you a lesson: to be yourself.”