Little Women – the irresistibly charming mid-1800s novel about four sisters forging towards adulthood – has been adapted, remixed and retold in dizzying numbers. There’s a series of heartwarming films (the latest was Greta Gerwig’s 2019 adaptation); multiple TV movies and miniseries; a Broadway musical; an opera and an immersive ballet. You can read dozens of books that recast the March family as witches or mermaids or modern women, stories in which the family are Black, Muslim or living on a New Orleans military base.
Still, the story appeals and endures. Watching Hayes Theatre Co’s uneven production of the musical adaptation, directed and choreographed by Amy Campbell, its weaknesses are clear – but so is its seemingly unkillable loveliness.
The show takes a scrapbook approach to Louisa May Alcott’s beloved novel. The book writer, Allan Knee (Finding Neverland), has shorthanded key parts of the plot, cutting them loose and reassembling them again. There is a sketch that nods to the sisters’ first Christmas without their father, who is a chaplain in the Union army; a throwaway line about the Hummels, a family the Marches support with charity and kindness; and an offstage sound effect to indicate young Amy’s harrowing crash through thin ice into a freezing river.
It’s a solid abridgement, though in focusing on Jo, as many adaptations are wont to do, the other Marches are left in broad strokes, their nuances traded in for more traditional Broadway beats. Jo is played with remarkable detail, insight and care by Shannen Alyce Quan, one of musical theatre’s most exciting new stars. Their Jo is brash, stubborn and opinionated but always deeply loving; there is never any doubt on this stage about the depth and size of Jo’s heart.
Across the board, performances are generous, warm and game. The company includes Cameron Bajraktarevic-Hayward (John Brooke), Molly Bugeja (Beth), Peter Carroll (Mr Laurence), Emily Cascarino (Marmee); Lawrence Hawkins (Laurie); Vitoria Hronopoulos (Amy); Tisha Kelemen (Aunt March); Kaori Maeda-Judge (Meg); and Tyran Stig (Professor Bhaer).
The score, by Jason Howland, plays with Broadway pop to make melodies that are pretty, if largely forgettable – and Mindi Dickstein’s lyrics are much the same. At the Hayes, the lean seven-piece band (led by music director Gianna Cheung, with music supervision by Laura Tipoki) favours a bright, full sound to support the onstage company, some of whom strain against the edges of the score, fraying when hitting the limits of their upper or lower registers.
Campbell’s production is frustratingly at odds with itself: it places tender scenes of realistic drama (strongest in the second act) against a spare and mercilessly contemporary set that sucks a good deal of the magic out of the room. The stage is bare, save for a series of strategically placed stretch cords that run from floor to ceiling to create dimension and space – but also, primarily, serve as a prop for dancing and movement.
Campbell is a choreographer first and has built a dancers’ space; the sisters crawl through the cords to make their entrance into one of Jo’s stories; they twirl with the cords as partners when feeling daydreamy and romantic. Many of the musical numbers in this production sacrifice their able progression of plot and character to showcase movement: Beth and Jo’s tender duet is marred by the actors’ climbing a series of boxes, clearly concentrating on foot placement to keep safe as they sing their way to Beth’s death.
The overwhelming costumes, by Lily Mateljan, are a riot of quilting and patches that don’t entirely work but do hint at the DIY approach of the Marches and their closets filled with hand-me-downs.
The looks and props work best when the company is acting out one of Jo’s fanciful stories, in a coat made out of ribbons or a dress that may have once been a blanket. If we could have seen the story of their repurposing (especially later, when rainfall is represented by a joyous callback to the girls’ childhood), this could have lessened the striking dissonance between story and style, staging and aesthetics.
There are genuinely moving, heartwarming, and funny moments in this production but it feels distinctly and fundamentally in disagreement. The actors have their hearts on their sleeves; the set doesn’t have one at all.
You’re left with the sense that our dear old Marches and their world don’t quite belong in this show – a baffling end result. Still, if you love Little Women, you’ll find pockets of this story let their most endearing qualities shine through, and may give you that pleasant experience of catching up with an old friend – especially when Quan is in their full glory as the indomitable Jo.
Little Women is on at the Hayes theatre until 11 August
