Tag Archives: The Devil Wears Prada

Little Women (2019): Sisterhood and Adulthood

The seventh adaptation of the beloved book, Little Women, directed by Greta Gerwig (Lady Bird), is the story of the four daughters of the March household, Jo (Saoirse Ronan; Brooklyn), Meg (Emma Watson; Harry Potter), Amy (Florence Pugh; Lady Macbeth), and Beth (Eliza Scanlen; Sharp Objects). Set during the civil war, each of the girls has their own ambitions, lives, and loves as they learn to become adults together.

Gerwig is able to create the warmth and care of a loving family. The young women are close in age and know each other incredibly well. The argue, tease, and tussle, but the depth of their genuine affection is clear. Even when they are petty, it’s impossible to overlook how much they love each other. They have all the inside jokes and goofy banter of people who have spent their lives together. Their closeness is also shown in their physicality. They walk arm-in-arm and seem to always be on top of each other. When they gather to hear a letter from their father, they sit closely together, locked in a familiar mutual embrace. The ease and comfort they feel around each other is palpable and it makes their bonds of sisterhood immediately believable.

The affection shown between the March sisters is incredibly endearing.

The film repeatedly points out the gender inequality of the time. The girls, Jo in particular, all seem limited by the opportunities available and the expectations of social norms. They want to be independent, but there are precious few ways for women to support themselves. Furthermore, the idea of an independent women is itself controversial. While Gerwig is direct with this message, it isn’t excessive or detrimental to the narrative. The limitations are encountered naturally and, sadly, often feel more relevant to the modern world than we would like. Meryl Streep (The Devil Wears Prada) appears as the unmarried elderly aunt that attempts to conform their behaviors to society. Her acting feels artificial, as usual, but she serves to demonstrate how different the leads are from most women of their time. All the March girls are strong female characters, but Gerwig deserves special praise for allowing each to be strong in their own way. Too often media will prescribe a single notion of what a Strong Female CharacterTM­ means to the exclusion of many. The girls here have different desires from fame to companionship to motherhood and each is presented with equal care and respect.

In her second outing as director, Gerwig has once again proven herself a formidable talent. She deftly controls the large cast of characters, often in scenes featuring dozens of performers, and does so while still giving each lead their own personality and enough opportunity to develop. She is a sensitive and empathetic director with affection towards all her characters. They are all imperfect, but flaws are not judged, only accepted as part of being human. Even when characters act impulsively or selfishly, they are still eminently lovable. Gerwig has created a warm, empathetic adaption of a classic story with themes and messages that still resonate today.

4/5 stars.

Colossal (2017)

Nacho Vigalondo, the Spanish director who debuted with the similarly strange Timecrimes, is back with his highest profile release yet. Colossal stars Anne Hathaway (The Devil Wears Prada) as she plays against type as Gloria, an out-of-control alcoholic writer who returns to her small-town family home after being kicked out by her fed-up boyfriend. When back home she reunites with a childhood friend (Jason Sudeikis; We’re the Millers) and discovers that she is somehow controlling a giant Godzilla-like monster rampaging through South Korea.

The ridiculous setup brings lots of laughs. As Gloria discovers the rules of her powers, her drunken attempts to make sense of things are hilarious and Hathaway is clearly enjoying herself in the role. In her few moments of sobriety she fails miserably at explaining her situation to her friends. It isn’t until she starts making the monster dance or do other unusual movements that she is able to convince them. These scenes become comedic as the director crosscuts between her steps in a suburban playground and the masses of hysterical people fleeing city-wide destruction in Seoul. Then, when she is afraid of what might happen if others knew about her ability, she clumsily tries to hide the truth, as if anyone would believe her. When Gloria is still discovering the rules of her situation, the film is as funny as it is intriguing.

The discovery of Gloria’s powers is the best part of the film.

What’s surprising is how being the monster changes her. In her previous life, Gloria’s lack of responsibility allowed her to spiral out of control. She didn’t have any impact on others so she was left without a purpose until now. The ability to control a gigantic beast in another country becomes empowering. She can suddenly communicate with and affect the lives of millions and it changes the way she approaches her life. She starts to make better decisions (i.e. drinking less) and taking more responsibility. The use of the supernatural setup to grow her character is an unexpectedly compelling character arc.

It’s the film’s latter half that drags it down. Unsatisfied with the lighter tone, Vigalondo moves the film into much darker territory. Certain characters make abrupt turns into villainous roles and the sudden change is unearned. It ruins the fun of the wacky premise and doesn’t match the precedent set by the early parts of the movie. The director also adds unnecessary exposition. There are brief flashbacks throughout the film that hint at the cause of Gloria’s powers, but when their true nature is fully revealed it creates plot holes rather than filling them. The explanation doesn’t add gravity to the film and only distracts from the core: Gloria’s self-improvement. As strange as it seems, these changes stretch belief more than Anne Hathaway controlling a kaiju.

The most important factors in a film like this are consistency and commitment. Consistency in tone and commitment to the story. Far-fetched premises like Being John Malkovich, or any of Charlie Kaufman’s works for that matter, succeed because they have a clear emotional direction and stick to that angle. Other unusual takes on the kaiju genre like Bong Joon-ho’s The Host managed their lighter approach because they never deviated from their initial intent. Instead of continuing in the tone of Colossal’s successful early sections, Vigalondo loses focus and falls prey to damaging forced conflict and exposition.

3/5 stars.