by Little Women – the delightful mid-1800s novel about four sisters groping their way to adulthood – has been adapted, remixed and retold in award-winning numbers. There are a series of heartwarming films (most recently, Greta Gerwig’s 2019 adaptation); multiple television movies and miniseries; a Broadway musical; opera and ballet immersion. You can read many books that recast the March family as witches or mermaids or modern women, stories where the family is Black, Muslim, or lives on the New Orleans military base.
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Still, the story is engaging and enduring. Watching Hayes Theater Co’s uneven production of the musical adaptation, directed and choreographed by Amy Campbell, its weaknesses are clear – but so is seemingly undying love.
The show takes a scrapbook approach to Louisa May Alcott’s romance novel. Book writer Allan Knee (Finding Neverland) has shortened key parts of the plot, cut them loose and put them back together. There is a sketch that marks 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 convey young Amy crashing through thin ice into a freezing river.
It’s a tight abridgement, although the focus is on Jo, as there are few adaptations to be made, the other marches are left in a broad sweep, and their nuances are traded for more traditional Broadway beats. Shannen Alyce Quan, one of musical theater’s most exciting new stars, plays Jo with great detail, insight and care. The Jo is provocative, stubborn and opinionated but always very loving; there is no doubt on this stage about the depth and size of Jo’s heart.
Throughout the program, 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 Baer).
The score, by Jason Howland, plays with Broadway pop to make beautiful, if mostly forgettable, melodies – and Mindi Dickstein’s lyrics are much the same. At the Hayes, the seven-piece backing band (led by musical director Gianna Cheung, musically directed by Laura Tipoki) favors a bright full sound to support the company on stage, some pushing against the edges of the score , crying when hitting the limits of their upper or lower register.
Campbell’s production is a contradiction in terms: it juxtaposes tender scenes of realistic drama (strongest in the second act) against spare contemporary sets that take much of the magic out of the room. The stage is bare, except for a series of strategically placed stretch cords that run from floor to ceiling to create dimension and space – but also, primarily, to function as a dance and movement apparatus. Campbell is a choreographer first and has built a space for dancers; the sisters rip through the ropes to enter one of Jo’s stories; they twirl with the chords as partners when they feel daydreamy and romantic. Many of the musical numbers in this production transcend their skillful progression of plot and characters to show movement: Beth and Jo’s tender duet is punctuated as the actors climb a series of boxes, clearly focusing on footwork to be safe as they sing. until Beth’s death.
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The huge costumes, by Lily Mateljan, are a riot of quilting and patches that don’t quite work but hint at the DIY approach of the Marches and their hand-filled closets.
The looks and props work best when the troupe is acting out one of Jo’s jokes, in a coat made of ribbons or a dress that might once have been a veil. If we could see the story of their reuse (especially later, when the rain is shown through a joyful flashback to the girls’ youth), this could reduce the great dissonance between story and style, staging and aesthetics.
There are some genuinely loving, heartfelt, and funny moments in this production, but it feels fundamentally and clearly discordant. The actors wear their hearts on their sleeves; the set has none at all. You’re left with the impression that our dear old Marches and their lives are completely irrelevant to this show – a disappointing end result. Still, if you love Little Women, you’ll find pockets of this story that will let their most endearing qualities shine through, and perhaps give you that pleasant experience of catching up with an old friend – especially when Quan is in his full glory as the invincible. Jo.
