George Cukor said once that he had always assumed Louisa May Alcott's classic to be "a book that little girls read, like 'Elsie Dinsmore'," and he was pleasantly surprised by how solid and adult its themes are. He was right -- it's about falling in love with the wrong people, summoning the moral strength to overcome great obstacles, and accepting the responsibilities that come with maturity. His discovery and enthusiasm are wonderfully conveyed in this unfussy, honest adaptation. The scale and design are just right -- the March household isn't prettied-up as in later versions, you can see how much the family is struggling. Max Steiner's music is as simple and sweet as a Whitman's Sampler. And the casting, while not ideal, is inspired in the major roles. This was the first instance of Katharine Hepburn embodying all the feisty-New England qualities we associate with her, and it's as though lightning struck or something; she's truly inspired, lit from within. Watch her body language, how she matures from a gawky, hoydenish tomboy into a pensive and irresistible young lady. (Winona Ryder was a diligent and hardworking Jo in 1994, but she doesn't have Hepburn's... inevitability.) She's partnered splendidly by Douglass Montgomery, who's a more ardent and virile Laurie than you'd expect. Paul Lukas loads on the Continental charm as Professor Baer, making him seem an ideal match for Hepburn. And, of course, Edna May Oliver was born to play dour old Aunt March.
Spring Byington is a sugary, unpersuasive Marmee -- how did Jo inherit all that backbone, anyway, with such a wispy parent? -- and Jean Parker is both too old and too passive to convince as Beth. (She was good years later, in "The Gunfighter," in about as different a role as can be imagined.) But it's a measure of this film's overwhelming rightness that, over 70 years later, it can still move grown men to tears. It's dated in some of its particulars -- a stilted line here, a clumsy transition there -- but not in its generosity of spirit or depth of feeling. Few movies from 1933, in fact, still play as well.
Spring Byington is a sugary, unpersuasive Marmee -- how did Jo inherit all that backbone, anyway, with such a wispy parent? -- and Jean Parker is both too old and too passive to convince as Beth. (She was good years later, in "The Gunfighter," in about as different a role as can be imagined.) But it's a measure of this film's overwhelming rightness that, over 70 years later, it can still move grown men to tears. It's dated in some of its particulars -- a stilted line here, a clumsy transition there -- but not in its generosity of spirit or depth of feeling. Few movies from 1933, in fact, still play as well.