How Florence Pugh Got Us to Care About Amy March

Scene from Little Women (2019)

If one was to talk about Louisa May Alcott's "Little Women" prior to the Greta Gerwig-directed adaptation, there would be one common refrain: Amy March is the worst March sister. This isn't up for debate. The internet is littered with articles claiming that the youngest sister was somehow a character not worthy of sympathy for a variety of reasons including (but not limited to) burning Jo's manuscript and stealing Laurie away from Jo. It's all a bit vindictive when looked at through Alcott's prose, but what Gerwig has done is something that no other adaptation has been able to do. Not only is it grappling with the themes of women being in charge of their own narrative, but it's also in some ways course-correcting the public conversation around the characters by contemporizing them, adding an emotional depth to the relationships that secretly make it bolder than even the equally beloved 1994 adaptation.

As much attention is once again thrown onto Jo, audiences have become enraptured with Amy this time around, and it's easy to see why. There is something to seeing her played with vulnerability the way that Florence Pugh has, giving layers to a role that's easy to write-off as flat and villainous. After all, she is in some ways piggybacking off of Jo's achievements. She is the least sympathetic role because of this. What Pugh does is add depth to the character by making her decisions not come from a place of malice, but sometimes out of a desire to be a great artist and never getting the respect she deserves. After all, Jo wants it too but thinks "it sounds crass when she says it." Already it's finding ways to take that comment and explore how the public has agreed with that statement, even when they really shouldn't.

Everybody loves Jo. If one was to ask Alcott, there's a good chance that she would say the same. After all, Jo IS Alcott in literary form, and it's something that Gerwig latched onto when making the film. Throughout the course of the journey, Jo is seen trying to publish the book that will become "Little Women," and there's something fulfilling about watching the print being set and the papers being pressed that only helps to justify how much Little Women in 2019 is still Jo's story, preciously being held onto as she haggles for better licensing deal. Yes, if there's any doubt that Jo was the favorite sister in this adaptation, it quickly disappears by the time the story kicks into gear. In some ways casting Saoirse Ronan in that role only confirms how much Jo matters to Gerwig. After all, Ronan worked with Gerwig on her directorial debut Lady Bird, for which both received Oscar nominations. Recent conversations have suggested that Gerwig and Ronan want to work together as old ladies making movies together, so the bias is far from subtle as to how much Ronan, the most decorated actress of the four in terms of prior acclaim, is the focal point of this story. Gerwig will be the first to even tell you that Ronan directly said that she was going to play Jo before production even began.

That is why it's easy to overlook the other three sisters: Amy (Pugh), Meg (Emma Watson), and Beth (Eliza Scanlen). So much attention has been lavished onto Jo over the past century in film and discourse that nobody has thought to make the other three into more interesting characters than where they started. For Gerwig, it wasn't just about adapting a story that found Jo dealing with agency in her own life. It was about Jo telling the story of her family and why their lives matter. They were each different in their own way, though none could go on the heightened adventures that fiction promised. They were forced to be creative within their homes, putting on theatre and doing their best not to annoy each other. As Little Women comments on, the idea that something isn't meaningful until someone says it is is something that Jo is striving to fix. Just because The March Sisters don't go on wild adventures (except on the stage or in their Pickwick Club meetings) doesn't mean that their experiences are invalidated. In fact, there is something reassuring in knowing that women can live totally different lives and not have one way to be right. Jo is making everyone's life more meaningful by publishing a book about it.

In this case, Gerwig gives the impression that Jo is especially coming to terms with Amy. There are comical moments of vanity, such as when Amy tries to make a cast of her foot and ruins her ankles (which are the most beautiful in the family). Her naivety is adorable and slowly introduces her to the world of the story. She has observed her sisters early on and develops her own interests from what they do. She doesn't want to be an actress like Meg or a musician like Beth. She wants to be an artist, touring the world to share her gifts. It's the kind of fantasy that someone brought up in a creative family would have. The only issue is that there's Jo, whose gifts to the family seem obvious. She writes the plays, serves at times as leader of the house. She is the parent figure for when Marmie (Laura Dern) is not around, and she only wants what's best for them. Amy is as much responding to Jo's actions as a sister as a parent, rebelling against the rules she places on her because of her youth. 

It's hard to remember that Amy is the youngest sister for a variety of reasons. The most literal is that Pugh is 24-years-old and has to play her as young as 5. That's not an easy feat and one that has mired controversy in part because other adaptations choose to cast younger actors instead. Pugh gets around this with simple acts like playing with her nose or imitating her sisters with this bold, bright confidence that when gone south causes her to cry and think naively about what matters. She's sad because of her ankles, or how she can't go to see theater. There's so much of the jealous young sibling that many write-offs as being an annoying younger sister, but what is it like to not have the advantages that Jo does? 

The most memorable moment comes when Amy doesn't get to attend the theater with her three sisters. As a result, she finds a way to ruin something precious to Jo out of rebellion. Because Jo is literary-minded, there is no use tearing up a dress or breaking a mirror. Those things don't matter. Amy attacks Jo where it hurts: her manuscript. It's a moment that divides them, sending Jo into a lack of confidence as a writer. This is also where Amy gets villainized, making actions such as not visiting Beth on her deathbed seem much worse than they are. She is trying to form her own identity outside of Jo's shadow, and it comes with youthful acts of pointless rebellion. The only thing is that those acts hurt, and the way that Gerwig's script looks at Jo and Amy from there on out suggests a divide that's more cleansing than restraining orders.

Both Jo and Amy wanted to go to Europe with Aunt March (Meryl Streep). There is some deceit in the wealthy aunt choosing Amy after years of promising it to Jo. There's even something devious about Amy finding Laurie during a carriage ride through the park. Still, it's here that the divides begin to take shape and Pugh's performance gets to be more than second-fiddle to Ronan's. There is a sense of love as Jo and Amy fall further apart. Jo is lonely, talking with Marmie about how independence as a woman is gratifying, but also terribly isolating. Why would one even want to write knowing that it could never be theirs in a world dominated by patriarchy? Meanwhile, one would expect Amy's story to be better because of her means, her ability to paint in the most beautiful architecture and villas that Europe has to offer. No, it turns out she's just as miserable because despite following her own path, she came to similar conclusions.

During a crucial scene in the film, Amy announces her retirement from being an artist to Laurie. She feels that there's no need to keep moving forward when men own everything. It's the theme of the entire movie, and Pugh's reserved voice hides a defeat that lies underneath. She is no longer acting out of any vindictive behavior that could be read as spite (if it ever was). It is now personal, reflecting the life of a woman who has just discovered the world for what it is. It's the moment where she becomes sympathetic on the way too empathetic. It's realizing that even with opportunities to better yourself, there are still some limitations out there. Marrying Laurie will not make things better. Being independent lacks any validation in society. After all, Meg found happiness as a wife, why couldn't she? She's just as lonely as Jo, but her road there is one where both sisters realize why they turned to creative paths in the first place. The only difference is that Jo has a lot more to say than Amy, a now somewhat tragic figure accused of burning her sister's manuscript when she was a child. She's done so much good since, so why not be remembered for that?

Prior to Little Women, Pugh had one of those banner years for an actress coming into an Oscar nomination. Between Fighting with My Family and Midsommar, she gained acclaim for her ability to find nuance in observation. When it was announced during interviews that Gerwig halted production on Little Women until they got Pugh personally, it began to make sense why they chose her. To make Amy empathetic, they needed a performer who not only could make the younger Amy delightful, but make the older one seem like more than a revenge-hungry jerk, out to ruin Jo's life by doing everything she could do better. A lot of credit should be given to Gerwig's script, but more should be given to Pugh's ability to feel like an outsider even within her own family, doing her best to please her sisters and not always feeling like she's achieved that goal. She is waiting to jump into her own identity, but will constantly be compared to Jo, even by accident.

That is why the confidence she exudes in the third act is important. Not only has she lived a life full of mistakes, but she has developed her own personality, free of her sisters. While audiences will always be drawn to Jo's embrace of life, Amy's crushing realizations of being the other child feel more crucial than ever. Suddenly her acts don't seem vindictive. She's making innocent mistakes along the way, not quite fitting into society just like she didn't into the family. She longs to be wanted, and Jo finds something touching in it. That's why she's written that way in the film. Following burning the manuscript, the film feels like Jo grappling with the meaning of Amy as more than a brat. Why does she want to be a great artist? Who doesn't? It's a way to feel like your life mattered, especially by the context of Little Women's ethos that women can't define their own independence in 19th century New England. Jo is trailblazing it by suggesting that more than one person can be the artist in the family, or that there can be many great stories told by different perspectives. Just because you're seen as "the other" as a child doesn't mean you'll always be. One day you will achieve that singularity you dream of.

So why is Amy March evil? She is just written that way, coming across as the annoying little sister most of us have. But honestly, is she really that bad? Maybe she's just an insecure child, trying to find meaning in a world that sometimes neglects her. When she finds that love, she latches onto it and the world misunderstands her. Gerwig is one of the few to adapt the story and find the humanity of her character on a deeper level, allowing her to hold intelligent conversations and captivating scenes where her youthful spirit clash with self-realization that forms throughout the story. She is delightfully awkward, but she's also someone wanting to be taken seriously in the world. Jo couldn't be nearly as goofy socially as Amy is, and that's part of her charm. She is that third voice in a two-person conversation, wanting to be heard but never be acknowledged. By the end, it's cathartic when she finally does.

Then again, it's also the magic of a performer as charismatic as Pugh finally getting a role that allows her to be joyfully silly, but also give a performance rich with nuance and detail that makes the world understand what she's capable of. She is allowed to be that hot mess sometimes, but she's just trying to be a good person. It also helps that Little Women came out in the same year as The Irishman and proved that the same actor could play really young without having to rely on de-aging technology. Jokes aside, she just has that youthful spirit that develops into maturity that none of the other performances have, and it's a big reason why the film feels like more than the latest Little Women adapted to screening, telling a story that everyone knows so well. It's got more emotional complexity going on, and that's in part with how Jo is willing to perceive Amy as an equal through gradual acceptance throughout the film.

In some ways, it's ironic that Pugh's Best Supporting Actress nomination is being usurped by Laura Dern, who also appears in Marriage Story. Both roles reflect women trying to gain power in a world dominated by unrealistic expectations. They both deliver these powerhouse moments that give deeper meaning to roles that seem vindictive. Most of all, they feel like the essential supporting roles of the year. While it's likely that Pugh will be back around for more Oscar nominations in the near future, one can't help but praise The Academy for at least getting this nomination right. It's not only a role that enhances the movie, but it also changes how a literary character over a century old is now seen in the public's consciousness. She helped to lead a change. Sure, everyone loves Jo March the most, but now there's a good case for giving Amy the benefit of the doubt from time to time.