With scents of apple and cinnamon in the air and ceilings adorned with vines and flowers, the always freezing Bedlam Theatre was made warm on the opening night of EUTC’s Little Women. Directed by Lauryn McGuire and Meri Suonenlahti, Marisha Chamberlain’s adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s beloved classic is deeply heart-warming and thoughtful, placing the sisterly bond at the forefront of their production.
The four March sisters are instantly recognisable as our ‘Little Women’, a testament to how the leads breath a new life into universally cherished characters. The chaos and comfort of sisterhood appear through their natural banter, reflecting a close-knit cast bond. We empathise with every sister in turn — Sophie Davis as Meg subtly shows growing affection for Mr Brooke, while Elsie Frith as Beth channels her quiet selflessness. The play scene—overly-exaggerated theatrically to the audience’s unrestrained laughter—symbolises their innocence and girlhood before being exposed to harsher realities, capturing the glowing bond of sisterhood that Alcott’s novel embodies.
Liv De Pury is Jo March in all her brazen, outspoken bravery. De Pury is skilfully in tune with Jo’s emotions which surface under the bravado of unwavering strength, whether in confessions to Marmee (played with maternal warmth by Roni Kane), or moments of forgiveness when reconciling with Amy. Rachel McLaren, another standout performer, embodies Amy’s childish indignation and superficiality through youthful mannerisms and exaggerated facial expressions. When she burns Jo’s manuscript, inventive lighting design allows warm orange lighting to become piercing as her face is flooded in blazing orange flames. McLaren doesn’t just reduce Amy to an archetypal younger sister though, as we see through tender moments with her sisters.
Dylan Kaeuper is a lively, charismatic Laurie, matching De Pury’s youthful boisterousness. When it comes to the infamous “it’s no use, Jo” scene, he shows no signs of hesitation in laying bare Laurie’s emotions. The two are perfectly in sync, making the roles their own.
The pacing at times feels a bit disjointed—most of the plot is crammed into the second half, with the ending revealed to us suddenly through Jo’s narration and Amy’s story in particular slightly glossed over. This however gives more attention to the sisterhood, rather than their marriages. Scenes with De Pury and Frith particularly are quietly harrowing, representing their enduring sisterly love through grief.
From intricate floral corsets to flowing skirts, the costumes (managed by Millie Franchi) channel the sisters’ personalities through Jo’s masculine dress and Meg’s flowery pink corset. The nostalgic domestic set—managed by Azalea Drace—makes us feel a part of the March family and gives us glimpses into the outside world away from the sanctuary of the March household.
McGuire and Suonenlahti’s adaptation is a love letter to all who hold Alcott’s novel dearly, weaving her celebration of sisterhood throughout and amplifying the voices of the ‘Little Women’ above all.
Photo by Emily Sharp (@emilyrosesharp on Instagram)