Little Women – Review – Sheffied Lyceum Theatre

By Clare Jenkins, May 2025

How reassuring that a mid-19th Century American ‘girl’s book’ as stuffed full of virtuous homilies as the plum pud on the stage’s Christmas table is still seen as relevant enough to fill a 21st Century theatre.

Not that there were too many little women in the first-night audience for Anne-Marie Casey’s 2011 adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s classic novel. Plenty of Good Wives, doubtless, and mothers and grandmothers, even a scattering of men – Jo’s Boys, to quote the last book in the series.

A regular bestseller since it was published in 1868, Little Women still rates highly in surveys of most popular novels – and not just for children. A BBC poll 20-odd years ago ranked it 18th among the UK’s best-loved novels of all time. It’s been adapted for the screen (most recently by Greta Gerwig in 2019), TV, Japanese animation… Heavens, as Marmee might say, it’s even been adapted for Indian and South Korean audiences.

So what’s the enduring appeal of a coming-of-age story about four young sisters approaching adulthood at a time when women had little choice or influence in society or, indeed, over their own lives? Well, unsurprisingly, the novel’s messages of persistence, strength, familial duty vs personal growth still speak to us, as do debates over what constitutes ‘womanliness’.

For the purposes of condensing the story, Casey’s skilfully pithy adaptation makes some changes – the girls’ father is a much-missed absent presence, for instance – but mainly remains faithful to the original.

“Family dynamics shift”

The curtain rises on Ruari Murchison’s artfully tree-lined set, warmly recreating an almost Dickensian vision of homespun Massachusetts life, with its twinkling Christmas tree, its piano, Jo’s ‘scribbling desk’ and a chaise longue scattered with patchwork quilts. It’s a cosy vision at odds with the sound of gunfire offstage.

Inside, the four March sisters – vain, aspirational, artistic Amy (“If only I had a classical nose, I would be happy”), sensitive, selfless Beth, spirited proto-feminist Jo and maternally-minded Meg – are singing Glory, Glory Hallelujah with their mother. Marmee is determined to keep the home flag flying during the Civil War which has seen their father join the army as a chaplain. But before we sink into bathos, the scene changes and the girls vigorously engage in a mock fight with pretend rifles and homemade swords.

Over the course of a lengthy first act, the character of each gingham-clad girl develops, and family dynamics shift, as they deal with sibling rivalries, arguments, unrequited love, trauma and loss. Doubts about their self-image, struggles to express their own personalities, achieve their ambitions – all the challenges still faced by young women today are explored in a pacey two hours with wit and intelligence, and with some fine character portrayals among the eight-strong cast.

Grace Molony throws herself – often literally – into the role of fiercely independent Jo, whistling and madcapping her way through expectations of femininity, writing newspaper articles both to express herself creatively and to help out financially, the family having fallen on hard times. Ever hyperactive, she’s described at different points as “more a wild colt than a girl” and “like a chestnut – prickly on the outside, but silky-soft within’’.

“Playful”

Imogen Elliott’s Amy subtly develops from petted petulance to more grounded maturity while Jade Kennedy is a winsome Meg. And Catherine Chalk is an affectingly courageous Beth, the shy, home-loving sister whose health fails after she catches scarlet fever while visiting a poor family, continuing the family tradition of altruism.

Ellie Pawsey, standing in for Honeysuckle Weeks, does a fine job as Marmee, the warm-hearted, Pilgrim’s Progress-quoting mother trying to remain calm for the sake of family harmony while grieving her husband’s absence. Belinda Lang, meanwhile, is almost cartoonishly sour as the imperious Aunt March. Where the two male characters are concerned, Cillian Lenaghan is a boisterously playful Laurie, the wealthy young man in love with Jo, though after marrying Amy his character becomes strangely less sympathetic. And Jack Ashton brings a refreshing note of calm maturity as both Laurie’s tutor John Brook and the older Professor Friedrich Bhaer, a German émigré and Jo’s fellow lodger at a boarding-house in New York.

Director Loveday Ingram keeps the energy levels high and steers clear of too much mawkish sentimentality, despite the occasional hymn or carol signalling a change of scene or focus. While letting everyone’s hopes and dreams play out, she subtly brings out the feminist angle: that women’s authentic voices can still struggle to be heard. That’s what’s really meant by sisterhood.

‘Little Women’ is at Sheffield’s Lyceum Theatre until Saturday, then continues its national tour
images: Nobby Clark