Last weekend, at the beautiful Bagley Wright Theatre, Seattle Rep debuted its modern adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s original coming-of-age novel, Little Women. At the time of its release, Alcott’s novel about the magnanimous Marches, a family of four young and exceptional women, was an immediate success, marking a cultural turning point for stories written by and about women. Seattle Rep’s production of this notorious nineteenth-century novel, adapted by playwright Kate Hamill and directed by Marti Lyons, emphatically reminds us why Little Women still resonates so deeply with audiences even today. Their fresh and inspiring take on the novel remains true to the source material’s heart while offering a compassionate perspective that liberates the story from its own temporal binds.
Before the play even began, I was immediately struck by the elegance of the set. The luscious red curtains and the small model house atop the burning fireplace drew me into the cozy, comfortable atmosphere of the Marches’ world. As a lover of the novel and its cinematic adaptations, I was struck by how familiar this image felt; yet again, I found myself lovingly invited into the March’s home.
Once the curtains were actually drawn and the play progressed, this charm was only magnified—I was definitely shocked to see crystal chandeliers descend from the ceiling at one point! The clever design of the house certainly worked well for the action and progression of the play, shifting as the characters continually shifted around it, both physically and emotionally. Yet, it was the little details that stood out to me most: from the wallpaper to the projected rug to the smoke rising from the chimney and the snow falling all around, the keen eye of the scenic director, Colette Pollard, positively brought this space to life.
Of course, Pollard’s vision was helped by the coordination with the play’s lighting design by Reza Behjat. I loved how Behjat was able to illuminate the beauty of Pollard’s set in so many different ways. The lighting brought warmth to the home in those familial moments, while highlighting the emotions of specific characters in others, adding dimension to the set. For instance, when Jo and Laurie first meet at the Mingott’s ball, the background characters dance behind them as aesthetic silhouettes, leaving Jo and Laurie to enjoy the privacy of their own intimate spotlight. This choice not only developed a playful mood around the main characters but also made the set feel more dynamic and lived in, adding to its opulent beauty and swirling atmosphere.
Altogether, this illuminated set allowed the actors to thrive, delivering performances that filled the stage with the lively personalities of their characters. As an ensemble, they perfectly captured the quarreling and passionate attitude of a house full of sisters. Jo, played by Amelio Garcia, and Amy, played by Rebecca Cort, hilariously butt heads in the way that only sisters can, teasing and annoying each other relentlessly while Meg, played by Cy Paolantonio, and Beth, played by Katie Peabody, attempt to manage them both. Cort certainly delivered the most humor in her role, capturing the immature perspective of a little girl who can’t help but mix her words up in an attempt to be like her big sisters. Cort’s childish mannerisms alongside her stellar comedic timing made for a wonderful impression of young Amy, which was in stark contrast to the equally compelling performance of Amy as an adult.
In both instances, this foundation established the lively repertoire between her and Garcia as Jo. Jo is a character near and dear to my heart and many others’, so she can definitely be a lot to live up to, yet Garcia absolutely embodied everything that she stands for. The decision to have a transmasc actor play Jo added so much nuance to the original role, foregrounding the queer subtext in Alcott’s own text. There is a prevalent discussion in this adaptation about the effect of being forced into a role with which you don’t identify, which is explored in a gendered way. Garcia thus sheds new light on the tragedy of Jo’s struggle to become a lady. I was absolutely moved by his performance. They made me laugh with their dramatic and sarcastic line deliveries so characteristic of Jo, yet their depiction of Jo’s inner turmoil broke my heart over and over—not just through Jo’s overtly emotional speeches but in the more subtle ways that he embodied Jo’s appeal to non-conformity. While audiences have always empathized with Jo’s struggle, their performance and the direction as a whole helped illuminate why her story can be so devastatingly heartbreaking.
This theme can certainly be seen in Austin Winter’s performance of Laurie, as well. When Jo and Laurie share their intimate spotlight at the Mingott’s ball, for example, the two admit that they would like to switch places with each other, neither satisfied with who they are told they must be. While Jo has always declared, in every adaptation, that she would rather be a man, Laurie is not usually so direct. Of course, many have remarked upon the names of “Jo” and “Laurie” with each seemingly belonging to the opposite sex. Thus, this gendered discussion between the two has been prevalent from the very start, though buried beneath subtext. This adaptation, however, chooses to liberate this discussion from subtext and confront it head-on. As director Marti Lyons points out, we tend to read gender non-conformity as a solely contemporary experience, but in resurrecting it in Alcott’s nineteenth-century work, Lyons recognizes the importance of bringing this conversation to the past.
Winter’s performance brings the boyish charm of Laurie to life while highlighting the more subtle feminine undertones of the character. They captured the endearingly awkward expressions, the loving playfulness, and the complex romanticism of Laurie. They won me over in every scene, making Laurie’s confession of love to Jo just as devastating as it has always been. Yet, in emphasizing how hard Laurie tries to fit in to be a man, Winter demonstrates the nuanced complexity of his unrequited love; Laurie and Jo can never be together so long as their genders are so forcefully performed.
Luckily, there is always Beth to aid and support her loved ones when they need it most. Like Jo, Beth is another difficult character to live up to, so perfect and beloved by all. Katie Peabody had no problem embodying the beautiful Beth March, shining warmly across the stage like the character in her own home. While Jo is the most obvious protagonist, Beth is the heart—or the conscience, as the Marches call her—of the story. She begins the play, “Tell me a story, Jo.” Without her, there is no story, because without her, there is no Jo. Garcia and Peabody made this apparent through their own beautiful chemistry. Together, they helped each other shine.
Yet, this story is still about all the Marches, and no character can be overlooked. Meg, as the eldest sister, is often forgotten or overlooked—but not with the charming Cy Paolantonio playing her! While Meg doesn’t have many moments to shine on her own, Paolantonio was always a delight onstage. She is quirky and shy, yet responsible and charismatic when she needs to be. I loved the humor Paolantonio brought to the character, coughing ridiculously beside her sister in the Mingott’s scene, for instance, or tripping over her feet while dancing. In one serious scene, she equally delivered a powerfully compassionate monologue about the stress of being an overworked stay-at-home mother, emphasizing Alcott’s feminist message about the difficult roles that women must play.
Richard Ngyuen Sloniker as Meg’s husband, John Brooks, had lovely chemistry with Paolantonio. He shined most in the scenes alongside her, perfectly stuffy yet warmed by Meg’s beauty. While he was great as Brooks, I think I most enjoyed him as Aunt March’s parrot—hilarious and unexpected! Aunt March, played by Colleen Madden, was quite drily funny, as well. Madden left more of an impression, however, as Marmee. She was so warm and sweet in this role, capturing the soothing mannerisms of the motherly figure perfectly. Hannah, played by Macall Gordon, played the caretaking role well, too. I was especially impressed by the accent, as well as the boisterous personality of Mrs. Mingott. Finally, Chike Johnson delivered a commanding performance as Mr. Laurence, capturing his heart of gold. He worked well in the paternal role of Mr. March, in this way.
Little Women has always had such a colorful cast of characters who shine brightly in their own way. In this theatrical adaptation, these personalities were brought to life with the help of the beautiful costuming led by An-lin Dauber. These costumes felt perfectly suited to their time with rich fabrics and textures that highlighted elements of each character. Jo’s outfits, for example, always seemed to have layers for her to shed: pants hiding behind skirts or overalls beneath dresses, her true self peeking behind the costume. Amy, on the other hand, had all the frills and poofs as a little girl with her hair in messy braids, as well as the sleek elegance of her gown as a woman. I loved how dynamic these costumes were, in this way. Every costume was distinct from the rest and each was equally impressive.
While all of these specific details made for an aesthetically pleasing production, it was the writing that moved me most of all. Each adaptation of Little Women brings something new to the table, and I loved the bold metatheatricality of Hamill’s. Of course, with Jo and Alcott both being writers, the importance of storytelling has always been relevant, but it works especially well in this dramatic format. Jo’s plays highlight her struggle to create the role she wants for herself, which is seemingly why she denies Beth’s request to tell a “real story.” As the characters grow up, much to the dismay of Jo, her stories are her only way of holding onto what she once had; they help her make sense of the world. When Amy burns Jo’s book, this blow is even more devastating, leaving Jo’s childhood in ashes.
In Alcott’s original story and every other adaptation, the girls do grow up—even Jo—finding careers, husbands, and families. That is, all except Beth, who dies before Jo meets her husband and Amy and Laurie get married. Many have speculated about the nature of Jo’s end: Greta Gerwig’s 2019 film adaptation even goes so far as to suggest that Alcott was pressured to add a love interest for Jo in order for the novel to be published. However, Hamill makes the bold decision to end the story with Beth’s death. As the curtains close around her funeral, Jo proclaims, “In this story, Beth doesn’t die.” This decision by Hamill was everything to me. There was no need for Jo to go on and find “love,” or for Laurie and Amy to get married because that is not what this story was about. Rather than kill Beth so that Jo must move on to find romance to fill her void, Hamill is content to end the story with them. Because Little Women is not about romance; it is about the deep bond and love between sisters, which does not need a manufactured happy ending. This was a happy ending. Though tears ran uncontrollably down my face, I could not have been happier with this conclusion.
Thus, I have no critiques of this beautiful production of Little Women. Even the elements I have not yet mentioned, like the sound design and original music by Jane Shaw, moved me deeply. Shaw’s score was whimsical and touching, bringing me to tears on more than one occasion. Really, my only regret in seeing this production was that I did not think to bring tissues. So, while I absolutely recommend everyone bring their loved ones to the theatre to see this play, just don’t make my mistake! Seattle Rep’s Little Women will have you weeping in even the happy moments. It is just that good.
Little Women Bagley Wright Theatre in Uptown, 155 Mercer St, Seattle, WA 98109. November 10-December 17, 2023. Wed-Sat 7:30 PM. Sun 12 PM and 5:30 PM. Select dates offer Spanish captioning, ASL interpretation, sensory-friendly performances, mask-required performances, and pre or post-show events.
Tickets and information: https://www.seattlerep.org/plays/202324-season/little-women/performances