A stage adaptation of the classic American novel, the aptly named Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, made its Vancouver — and Canadian debut — with a production by the Arts Club Theatre Company, and it might just be the best adaptation of the source material yet.
As an avid fan of the original book, Little Women accompanied many of my primary school recesses. I went into the play with high expectations and an attachment to the source material — I read both of its sequels, adored the 1994 and 2019 movies and thoroughly wore out my headphones listening to the soundtrack of the 2005 Broadway musical.
The first three words of the title — which distinguish the play’s title from the novel’s — were put into context when actor Kate Besworth identifies herself as both the author, Alcott, and the novel’s protagonist, Jo March. As they transitioned from Alcott’s to Jo’s world, each character managed to remain dynamic, creating a playful relationship with the audience as they broke the fourth wall and introduced their roles.
UBC MFA directing alum Barbara Tomasic’s direction took full advantage of an otherwise exposition-heavy first scene to showcase the cast’s vibrant chemistry while introducing relevant book details. The entrance scene was the first of many striking portraits and particularly well-crafted moments that stuck with me throughout the play. The scene ended heartwarmingly, with the March women huddled over a chair, perfectly recreating the book cover of my own childhood copy of the novel.
The set design by Jennifer Stewart conveyed the comfort and coziness of the March home while naturally leaving additional space for the play’s many secondary settings. The central use of a large staircase in particular allowed for more fluid movement across locations in the second act while adeptly translating certain difficult scenes onto the stage. For instance, the scene where Jo and Laurie rescue Amy from a lake inventively had the characters rush down from the top of the stairs and use them to reach out and save her, capturing the physical urgency of the scene in the restricted setting of a theatre.
The lighting direction by Jillian White also contributed to the creation of these spaces and the emphasis of more emotional moments in the scripts. Noteworthy examples included Laurie’s silent first introduction as he overlooks the family from the stairs and the spotlighting on Beth during her scenes at the piano.
Alongside establishing the cast and its interwoven personal dynamics, the play also had to tackle the task of believably building four intimate romantic relationships over the course of its two acts. In particular, Nick Fontaine’s dual role as John Brooke and Dr. Bhaer in the first and second acts, respectively, limited the time that could be dedicated to each character’s romantic arc.
Despite these limitations, each relationship was developed well and served its purpose satisfyingly in terms of each sister’s arc. Meg’s plotline in the second act, for example, still felt substantial despite the absence of Brooke. Similarly the absence of an actor for Mr. Lawrence — a key player in Beth’s arc — was handled well and did not impede the overarching story, a testament to both the pacing of the production and the cast’s chemistry.
The production’s portrayal of Laurie and Jo’s relationship, a subject of frequent contestation and reinterpretation in adaptations, was nuanced, profound and ultimately beautiful, ending in a very satisfying way. The confession scene between Laurie and Jo was a highlight, coming with well-placed momentum in the second act. While Besworth’s Jo was everything you could wish for from an overflowing and conflicted young woman, Conor Wylie’s performance as Laurie, sometimes wordless, was what made the scene beautifully devastating.
Kaitlyn Yott’s playful — at times laugh out loud funny — portrayal of Amy managed to be believable and consistent despite the challenge of the character’s aging throughout the show. Elizabeth Barrett’s Meg was colourful and nuanced, a believable counterpart to both Amy and Jo’s personalities. Ming Hudsons’s Beth, though characteristically subtle compared to the other sisters, perfectly captured the evolving degradation of the character’s health.
While each actor delivered a strong individual performance rooted in what translated to the audience as a deep understanding of their characters, the most striking moments were their group interactions. The believable hubbub perfectly captured the chaos of the March family, and the cast’s communal moments of simultaneous talking were particularly well-timed and executed.
The gravitas of Ming Hudson’s Beth shone through particularly during the character’s death scene. However, while Hudson’s performance might have drawn the first tears, Barrett’s silent, heartbreaking reaction as Meg is what opened the floodgates in my case — another brilliant instance of the cast’s powerful acting without lines.
More than anything, the production captured the source material’s heart and care. The play’s ability to tug at the heart strings meant that, by its conclusion, even the audience felt saddened to leave these characters and to learn of their ‘real-life’ fates through Alcott’s family history.
