Excuse me.
I was looking for the Weekly Volcano office.
I wished to see Mr. Dashwood.
A friend of mine desired me to offer a story by her.
She...
She wrote it. She'd be glad to write more if this suits.
- Not a first attempt, I take it? - No, sir.
She has sold to Olympic and Scandal,
and she got a prize for a tale at the Blarney Stone Banner.
A prize?
Yes.
Sit.
We'll take this.
Oh, you will?
With alterations. It's too long.
Uh, but you've cut...
I took care to have a few of my sinners repent.
The country just went through a war.
People want to be amused, not preached at.
Morals don't sell nowadays.
Perhaps mention that to your friend?
What compensation? How do you...
We pay 25 to 30 for things of this sort.
We'll pay 20 for that.
You can have it. Make the edits.
Should I tell my friend
that you'll take another if she had one better than this?
We'll look at it. Tell her to make it short and spicy.
And if the main character is a girl,
make sure she's married by the end.
- Or dead. Either way. - Excuse me?
What name would she like to put to the story?
Oh. Uh, yes, none at all, if you please.
Just as she likes, of course.
Oh, well.
Good morning, sir.
Good day.
Synced by LobsterCheese www.addic7ed.com
My Beth would like you very much.
This is a boarding house, not a charity.
I need the rent on time.
Good afternoon, Miss March.
Oh, good afternoon.
- You're on fire. - Thank you.
You're on fire!
Thank you.
I have the same habit, you see?
Oh.
Kitty and Minny are waiting.
Oh.
- My students need me. - Always working.
Money is the end and aim of my mercenary existence.
No one gets ink stains like yours
just out of a desire for money.
Well, my sister Amy's in Paris,
and until she marries someone obscenely wealthy,
it's up to me to keep the family afloat.
Goodbye.
The decadents have ruined Paris, if you ask me.
These French women couldn't lift a hairbrush.
Amy!
I said, "these French women couldn't lift a hairbrush."
Oh, yes, very true, Aunt March.
Don't humour me, girl.
What did they write, your troublemaking family?
Mother doesn't say anything about Beth.
I feel like I should go back, but they all say "stay."
You can do nothing if you go back.
The girl is sick, not lonely.
And you shouldn't go home
until you and Fred Vaughn are properly engaged.
Yes, and until I've completed all of my painting lessons, of course.
Oh, yes! Yes!
Of course.
Stop the carriage! Laurie!
Amy!
My, you've grown so much!
- My apologies. - You wrote you'd meet me at the hotel!
- I couldn't find you anywhere. - You didn't look hard enough!
Maybe I didn't recognise you because you're so beautiful now.
Oh, stop it.
- I thought you liked that sort of thing. - No! Where's your grandfather?
He's in Germany. He's still travelling.
I'm travelling on my own now.
- And flirting and gambling and drinking. - Well, don't tell your mother.
Are you chasing some young girl across Europe?
No.
I couldn't believe Jo turned you down. I'm so sorry.
Don't be, Amy. I'm not.
Amy!
- Amy March! - Oh.
- You come back right this instant. - Aunt March.
Come.
Come on.
- Aren't you looking grand? - Get off me! Allons-y!
We need to be somewhere.
Come to the New Year's Eve party. It's a ball.
Everyone will be there, including Fred.
Pick me up at the hotel at 8. Le Chavain.
Oh! Laurie!
Dress for festivities! Top hats and silks!
I will. I'll wear my best silk.
It's Laurie.
I know.
20 yards of the blue silk as well as the pink.
Someone will be by for it later.
Oh, Meg! That would look so lovely on you.
I know just the dressmaker to send you to.
You'll be the prettiest wife in Concord.
John needs a new coat for winter, and Daisy and Demi need new clothes...
And his wife needs a new dress.
I can't. It's...
I just can't.
He'll be so pleased with how you look he'll forget all about the expense.
I don't suppose it's too much an extravagance.
Will 20 yards do?
- Yes. - Very good.
50 dollars. What was I thinking?
- Mommy! - Mommy!
My loves.
Go play.
Beth!
There lies your way, due west.
Then westward-ho!
Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship.
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
Stay.
I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me.
That you do think you are not what you are.
If I think so, I think the same of you.
Then think you right. I am not what I am.
Excuse me?
I only speak English. I'm sorry.
- What did you say? - Come dance.
Oh.
I know exactly who I want to dance with.
- Who will you dance with, Jo? - You know I never dance.
Why can't we all go to the party? It's not fair.
- Just wear your regular shoes. - These fit last winter.
My nose will simply not look refined.
- I like your nose. - Now, Jo!
Don't touch me, thanks. I already feel ridiculous.
- I don't wanna look it. - You could be pretty if you tried.
Don't want to. Won't do it.
I don't want to go, but I wish I could hear all the music.
I'll keep it all in my head and try to sing it for you.
- Ought they to smoke like that? - It's the dampness drying.
Queer smell. It's like burnt leathers.
I'll take this off, and you'll see a perfect ringlet.
Why is her hair off?
- I'm so sorry. - What have you done?
I'm sorry.
You shouldn't have asked me to do it.
Marmee!
I can't go! I'm spoilt! My hair!
Don't stare. Don't put your hands behind your back.
Don't say Christopher Columbus. Don't say capitol.
- All right. - Don't shake hands.
Don't whistle.
Meg March, you look so pretty.
Meg.
Sorry. I didn't know anyone was here.
Not at all. Stay if you like.
- I won't disturb you? - No.
I don't know many people here. I felt rather strange at first.
So do I.
Miss March, isn't it?
Yes, Mr. Laurence, but I'm not Miss March.
I'm only Jo.
And I'm not Mr. Laurence. I'm only Laurie.
Don't you dance?
I don't know how you do things here yet.
You see, I spent most of my life in Europe.
Europe? Oh, that's capitol!
I shouldn't use words like that.
- Says who? - Oh.
Meg. She's my older sister. Here.
Oh. That's her. See?
The girl in the violet dress.
Very pretty.
She reminds me to be good
so Father will be proud of me when he returns.
Where is he?
Volunteered for the Union Army.
I wanted to go fight with him.
I can't get over my disappointment of being a girl.
Jo, would you like to dance with me?
I can't because...
Because of what?
- You won't tell? - Never.
I scorched my dress, see? There.
And Meg told me to keep still so no one would see it.
You can laugh if you want to. It's funny, I know.
I have an idea of how we can manage.
- What? - My foot.
I've hurt my ankle. How am I gonna get home?
I don't see what you can do except get a carriage or stay here all night.
Carriages are too expensive.
Well, let me take you. It's right next door.
Oh, no, thank you. We cannot accept.
You must take mine.
- Please. - No.
It's so early. You can't mean to leave yet.
I always leave early. I do, truly.
What choice do you have?
I told you those shoes were too small.
Goodness gracious, what have you done?
You're back! How was it?
- Thank you, Mr. Laurence. - Help your sister, then back to bed.
Make room! Meg's a wounded soldier.
I sprained my ankle.
Meg, you'll kill yourself for fashion one of these days.
Oh, here.
Hannah! We need ice!
- Oh, come in. Come in. - It's all right.
Apologies for the chaos.
I enjoy baking in the middle of the night.
Don't mind the clutter, Mr. Laurence. We don't.
Laurie, please.
Can I call you Teddy?
- Yes. - You must be part of their theatricals.
I'm Amy.
Hello.
... for the male roles or play a girl.
- Have a scone. - This? Thank you.
And ice.
Laurie, how are your ankles? Do you need ice?
No, thank you, ma'am.
Just call me Mother or Marmee. Everyone does.
Meg, why don't you wear those pink shoes...
It's cold.
But they look so good.
It feels like being a fine young lady
to come home from a party in a carriage
and have maids wait on me.
For the writer in the attic.
Because you enjoyed the play so much tonight,
I wanted you to have this.
It will help you study character
and paint it with your pen.
I would love to read what you're writing,
if you'll trust me.
I promise honesty
and whatever intelligence I can muster.
Yours, Friedrich.
- Fred, would you like a glass? - I will, thank you.
Would you excuse me a second?
Laurie.
Amy.
I waited an hour for you.
I feel caught.
Amy, please. Amy.
Do you want to know what I honestly think of you?
- What do you honestly think of me? - I despise you.
Why do you despise me?
Because with every chance of being good, happy and useful
- you are lazy, faulty and miserable. - This is interesting.
Yes, well, selfish people do like to talk about themselves.
- Am I selfish? - Yes, very selfish.
With your money, talent, beauty and...
You think I'm beautiful.
Yes, you like that, you old vanity.
With all these good things to enjoy,
you can find nothing to do but dawdle.
I'll be good for you, Saint Amy. I'll be good.
Aren't you ashamed of a hand like that?
No, I'm not.
Looks like it's never done a day of work in its life,
and that ring is ridiculous.
Jo gave me this ring.
I feel sorry for you. I really do.
I just wish you'd bear it better.
You don't have to feel sorry for me. You'll feel the same way one day.
No, I'd be respected if I couldn't be loved.
What have you done lately,
oh great artiste?
Perhaps you're fantasising about spending Fred Vaughn's fortune.
Fred Vaughn, ladies and gentlemen!
Fred,
I'm so sorry.
Those are just stories, of course.
But I'm working on a novel.
And your novel,
it will be like this?
Yes.
So far, anyway.
With plots like this?
Duels and killing... - It sells, so...
Why don't you sign your real name?
Oh, my mother wouldn't like it.
It's too gory for her.
And I wanna help with the money I make and not worry her.
In a way, I don't like them.
Honestly.
I mean, I think they're not good.
Uh, but...
They're...
They're published in the papers,
and people have always said that I'm talented.
Oh, I think you're talented,
which is why I'm being so blunt.
I can't afford to starve on praise.
Are you upset?
Of course I'm upset. You just...
You just told me you didn't like my work.
I thought you wanted honesty.
I... Yes, I do.
Has no one ever talked to you like this before?
Yes, I've been rejected plenty of times.
Do you have anyone to take you seriously, Jo,
to talk about your work?
Who made you high priest of what's good and what's bad?
- No one, and I'm not... - Then why are you acting like it?
Jo, your reaction indicates that...
My reaction indicates that you are a pompous blowhard.
Shakespeare wrote for the masses.
Shakespeare was the greatest poet who ever lived
because he smuggled his poetry in popular works.
I'm no Shakespeare.
Thank goodness. We already have him.
If you know so much about it, then why don't you do it yourself?
Because I'm not a writer.
- I don't have the gifts you have. - No, you don't.
And you will always be a critic, and never an author,
and the world will forget that you ever even lived.
I'm sure they will.
But I... But I...
No one will forget Jo March.
I can believe it.
Listen.
We are not friends.
You are not my friend.
And I don't want your opinion because I don't like you very much.
So just don't talk to me anymore. Thank you.
Josephine, this came for you.
Thank you.
Beth.
Merry Christmas, world.
- Merry Christmas! - Merry Christmas!
- Jo, we've been up for hours. - What have you been writing?
I got carried away with our delicious revenge play last night.
Poison.
No, no poison. It's Christmas.
Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents.
- It's so dreadful being poor. - It's not fair.
How come some girls get to have lots of pretty things
and others have nothing?
At least we have Father, Mother and each other.
We haven't got Father,
and we won't have him for as long as this war drags on.
I wish I had heaps of money and plenty of servants
so I never had to work again.
You could be a proper actress on boards.
They aren't all fallen women.
I can't be an actress.
I have lots of wishes,
but my favourite one is to be an artist in Paris
and to do fine pictures and to be the best painter in the world.
That's what you want, too, isn't it, Jo? To be a famous writer?
Yes, but it sounds so crass when she says it.
- Why be ashamed of what we want? - I'm not.
My wish is to have us all to be together with Father and Mother in this house.
- That's what I want. - Beth is perfect.
What about your music, Queen Bess?
I only do that for us. I don't need anyone else to hear it.
You must not limit yourself.
Mother proposed not having any Christmas presents this year
because our men are suffering in the army.
We can't do much,
but we can make our little sacrifices and do it gladly.
Don't play mother just because she's not home.
- Jo! That's so boyish. - That's why I do it.
- I detest rude, unladylike girls. - I hate affected little chits.
My nose! My nose!
It's already no good!
I know you don't care what I think,
but you don't want your mother to find you like this, do you?
Of course we care what you think, Hannah.
You're more family than wicked old Aunt March.
- Don't, Jo. - Where is Marmee?
- I'm starving. - Goodness only knows.
Some poor creature came begging.
Your ma set straight off to see what was needed.
I wish she could help other people at a time convenient to us.
- Joanna and I are very hungry. - Dolls don't get hungry, Beth.
I've rewritten the climax, and we need to set it to memory.
Amy, get the costumes.
I have made the most divine crown
and I painted my old shoes blue so she looks like a princess.
I think the melancholy piece I've figured out is pretty good.
Meg, wait until you see this new speech.
I don't see how you can write such splendid things, Jo.
- You're a regular Shakespeare. - Well, not quite.
All right, Miss Michelangelo, can you please rehearse the fainting scene?
You're as stiff as a poker in that.
I can't help it. I never saw anyone faint before.
I don't intend to make myself all black and blue
If I can fall down easily, I'll try,
and if I cannot, I shall fall gracefully into a chair
and I don't care if Hugo comes at me with a pistol.
- Hannah. - I'm not acting.
What? I didn't even say anything.
I knew what you were going to say, and I'm not acting.
Merry Christmas, girls!
- Marmee! - Merry Christmas!
I'm glad to see you so happy.
Jo, you look tired. Were you up again all night writing?
- Of course. - Amy, come kiss me.
Merry Christmas. How are my girls?
- So hungry. - Look at this breakfast.
- I could eat a horse. - Don't say that, Jo.
What?
What is it?
Not far from here lives a poor young woman, Mrs. Hummel.
Her five children are in one bed to keep from freezing,
and there's nothing to eat.
My girls, will you give them your breakfast as a Christmas present?
This is where you say that Father would want us to?
Yes.
Thank you.
And thank you, Mr. Laurence, for including me.
You're welcome.
Perhaps you could
tutor my grandson in manners as well as mathematics.
Mein Gott. It is good angels come to us.
- Hello. - I'm back.
I have food and blankets and sweaters.
And we brought some medicine.
These are my girls.
Say hello.
He's not well.
Girls, why don't you unpack the food?
You want one?
Is it fairies?
- Santa Claus. - No, it's old Aunt March.
Mr. Laurence sent it.
- The Laurence boy's grandfather? - Yes.
Why?
He saw you giving your Christmas breakfast away,
and he wanted you to enjoy the day.
- But I thought he was a mean old man? - It's so generous of him.
His grandson Laurie put the idea into his head.
I know he did.
We should make friends with him.
Boys scare me.
That big old house scares me.
Jenny Snow says that Mr. Laurence disowned his son
after he went off with an Italian woman,
and now his grandson is an orphan
and he spends all his time in that house locked up with his tutor.
He's a very kind man
who lost his little girl when she was only a child,
and now his son as well.
- His daughter died? - That's so sad.
Doesn't Laurie just seem so romantic? He's half Italian.
What do you know? You've barely even spoken to him.
I'm not responsible for this feast,
but I've got a surprise.
Is he coming home, our Father?
Don't I wish I could go!
Poor Jo. We can't give up our only brother.
It must be so disagreeable to sleep in a tent.
Jo sits in the back so we can't see her cry.
- Ow! - So what if I do?
Will he be coming home?
He'll stay and work faithfully as long as he can.
We won't ask for him to come back a minute sooner than he can be spared.
"Give them all my dear love and a kiss.
Tell them I think of them by day,
pray for them by night
and find my best comforts in their affection at all times.
A year seems a very long time to wait before I see them,
but remind them that while we wait
we may all work so these hard days
need not be wasted.
I know that they will be loving children to you,
do their duty faithfully,
fight their enemies bravely
and conquer themselves so beautifully."
The Witch's Curse. A play by Jo March.
Make it sweet and swift and strong...
"For when I come back to them..."
Answer now, my song.
"... I may be
fonder and prouder than ever
of my little women."
Brava!
Excuse me?
Your stop, ma'am.
Oh, thank you.
She's gone? Why?
I don't know. She just left.
But she didn't say if she was coming back?
We didn't have a heart-to-heart, professor.
Why are you just sitting there? Please go, go.
Dust something.
And what about the girls? She was the best teacher they ever had.
I know.
It's so hard to go back to work after such good times.
Oh, I wish it was Christmas every day.
Or New Year's. Wouldn't that be exciting?
We are a bunch of ungrateful minxes.
- Don't say such despicable things. - I like strong words that mean something.
I have to go back to school and I don't have any limes.
Limes?
All the girls are trading pickled limes and I'm in debt.
I owe every so many limes.
- Will this do? - What did you do that for?
I know what it is to want little things and feel less than other girls.
Between that and the drawings, that'll wipe out my debt.
- What drawings? - Nothing.
I'm just glad Mother doesn't make me go to school with all those girls.
Hurry. I'll be late.
Beth, after your shopping I need you to work your way
through the new sums and spelling and I'll check it all when I get home.
- Fine. - Bye.
- Josephine? - Yes?
- Josephine? - Yes, here.
Is there a reason you stopped reading Belsham?
I'm sorry. I'll continue.
You mind yourself.
Someday you'll need me and you'll wish you had behaved better.
Thank you, Aunt March, for your employment and your many kindnesses,
but I intend to make my own way in the world.
No one makes their own way,
not really.
Least of all women. You'll need to marry well.
- But you're not married. - That's because I'm rich.
And I made sure to keep hold of my money.
Unlike your father.
So the only way to be an unmarried woman is to be rich?
Yes.
But there are precious few ways for women to make money.
That's not true.
You could run a cat house
or go on the stage.
Practically the same thing.
Other than that, you're right.
Precious few ways for women.
It's why you should heed me.
So I can get married.
No! So you can live a better life than your poor mother has.
- But Marmee loves her life. - You don't know what she loves.
Your father cared more about educating freed men's children
than he did about caring for his own family.
Yes, but he was right.
It's possible to be right and foolish.
- Well, I don't think so. - Well, you're not paid to think.
I know you don't care much about marriage now.
Can't say I blame you.
But I intend to go to Europe one more time
and I need a companion.
How would you like to be the person I take?
I'd like that more than anything.
All right, then read.
And don't sneak around.
I don't like sneaks.
- President Lincoln. - No, Father's fighting for him.
My father says the war is a waste
and we should just let them keep their labour.
Susan, it is immoral.
Everyone benefited from the system, including you Marches.
Why should only the South be punished?
- We should all be punished. - The Marches love a cause.
Fine. Just do Mr. Davis.
I don't know if I should.
I'll wipe out your debt and give you 5 more limes besides.
Miss March?
Sit down.
Sit down, Laurie.
Latin is a privilege.
Please, you have to learn this. I can't afford to lose this position.
- Just return to the Cicero... - There's a girl out there.
- No, there is not... - Yes, Mr. Brooke, there is a girl.
No, there's not.
- Oh, there is a girl. - That's a girl.
Hello there! Are you hurt?
I'm Amy.
- Hello, Amy. I'm Laurie. - I know.
You brought my sister back after the dance.
I would have never sprained my ankle.
I have lovely small feet, the best in the family.
But I can never go home again 'cause I'm in such trouble.
Look!
Mr. Davis hit me.
Tell the servants I want this painting purchased for me immediately.
- Amy, are you in here? - My hand!
- Jo. - What richness!
It hurts so much.
Theodore Laurence, you ought to be the happiest boy in the world.
- A fellow can't live on books alone. - I could.
- What did you do? - Nothing. I did nothing.
I did a drawing and then Mr. Davis hit me.
Christopher Columbus! Look at that!
It's my grandfather.
- Are you scared of him? - No, I'm not scared of anyone.
He looks stern, but my grandfather was much more handsome.
Jo, we do not compare grandfathers.
- You think he's more handsome, eh? - Oh.
No, actually, you are very handsome. I didn't mean...
I knew your mother's father.
You've got his spirit.
Oh, well, thank you, sir.
You are not to attend that school anymore.
Good. That man has always been an idiot.
- Jo will teach you. - Me? I already teach Beth.
You're a good teacher.
Yes, women being taught at home is much more proper, I believe.
Only because the schools we're in are so poor.
Indeed. Quite right.
I wish all the girls would leave this horrible school and that he would die.
Amy, you did wrong and there will be consequences.
I didn't. I didn't even do anything. I just did a drawing.
Thank you so much for taking care of our Amy.
- Yes, of course. - We don't wish death on people.
My girls have a way of getting into mischief.
So do I.
You'll run over and we'll take care of you.
Please. Come over whenever you'd like.
- Invite your sister Beth as well. - Yes, Beth would adore the piano.
- Is she the quiet one? - Yes, that's our Beth.
Tell that little girl to use our piano.
Jo, borrow whatever book you'd like.
- Can I come look at the paintings? - Yes.
There's also a lovely greenhouse.
We must go, girls.
- I'm going to take this. - Can you please buy this painting?
I'm gonna take this one if that's okay. I'll bring it back soon, I promise.
Thank you for my hand!
- Thank you, bye! - Thank you again.
Oh, Miss Meg!
You forgot your glove.
Well,
back to work.
Back to work.
Order!
A new play written by Miss Jo March
will appear at the Barnville Theatre in the course of the next few weeks
that will surpass anything
ever seen before on the American stage.
Starring the greatest actress from here to the Mississippi River,
Miss Meg March.
Weekly report: Meg, good. Jo, bad.
Beth, very good. And Amy, sort of middling.
Very well!
Mr. President and gentlemen,
I wish to propose the admission of a new member,
one who would be deeply deeply grateful
and would add immensely
to the spirit of the club.
I propose
Mr. Theodore Laurence!
- Absolutely not. - No!
What? Come now! Let's have him.
- He's a real boy. - We don't want any boys.
- This is a club for ladies. - Yeah!
- I think we should do it. - Why?
Even if we are afraid. I say yes.
- It's Laurie. - What? No!
- It'll change everything. - All right, I call a vote.
- Put your hands up. Aye, aye! - Don't put your hand up.
Put your hand up. It's Laurie.
Fine. Aye!
And because there's no time like the present...
Ladies, ladies, please, please!
This is my stratagem. I deserve the blame.
Jo only gave into it after lots of teasing, yes.
I merely wish to say, as a slight token of my gratitude
and as a means of promoting friendly relations
between adjoining nations,
and thus I propose this set of keys
for a little post office
I've made in the forest by the pond.
Yes, four keys.
For you, darling.
- And for you. - Thank you very much.
This is for me, and without further ado,
thank you for your favour.
I will take my seat as part of the club.
Hello!
Daisy and Demi!
You've gotten so big.
I wish you were here to teach them.
Well, I'm here now.
So good to have you home.
I think the loneliness got to Beth,
though she ain't said anything.
Where is Beth?
She's upstairs. Oh, my Jo.
We all thought she was better, but the fever had weakened her heart.
Take this
and find her the best doctor you can.
No, you need this money to live in New York.
No, I'm not going back.
I'm using the rest to take her to the sea and get her strong.
When's Amy coming home?
- We didn't want to worry her. - Does she not know?
Beth insisted we not tell her
because she didn't want to ruin Amy's trip.
Amy has always had a talent for getting out of the hard parts of life.
Jo, don't be angry with your sister.
Jo?
Jo, where are you?
- I can't find my other glove. - Take mine.
Jo, we're going to be late.
- Where are you going? - You're not invited.
You're going somewhere with Laurie. I know it.
Yes, we are. Now stop bothering.
- Do you have the tickets? - Yes.
- Hurry up. - You're going to the theatre with Laurie.
Meg, please can I come?
I'm sorry, dear, but you weren't invited.
You can't go, Amy, so don't be a baby and whine about it.
I've been shut up here and I never get to go anywhere.
Beth has her piano and I'm so lonely.
I can teach you chords.
I don't want chords, Beth, I want to go...
No. I think you'd hate to poke yourself in where you're not wanted.
We already have to deal with dull Mr. Brooke.
I like him. He's kind.
- I can pay for myself. - You will not come.
I'm sorry, my sweet, but Jo is right.
- No, please. - Next time.
- Stop petting her. - Please, please.
You'll be sorry for this, Jo March.
You will. You'll regret this.
Stop looking at me like that.
Ow, Jo!
I thought the actress was incre... Oh!
Very very good.
She was very good.
Meg, you're a million times better than she was.
Although she was a terrific fainter.
I wonder how she managed to turn so white as she did.
That Mr. Brooke. Could he be any more obsequious?
I thought he was very well-mannered.
Hold on. Let me just get this idea down.
- Beth, what's your favourite eye colour? - Purple.
Mr. Brooke has blue eyes and an old soul,
which is much more important than money.
Has anyone taken my novel?
- No. - No, why?
Amy, you've got it.
No, I haven't.
- That's a lie. - No, it isn't.
I haven't got it. I don't know where it is and I don't care.
Tell me or I'll make you!
I burnt your book!
I told you I'd make you pay and I did!
I'm sorry, Jo.
Amy.
It's just that the only thing you care about is your writing.
It's not as if I could have hurt you by ruining one of your dresses
and I really did want to hurt you.
I am the most sorry for it now. I'm so sorry.
Jo.
Don't let the sun go down on your anger.
Forgive her.
Help each other.
And you begin again tomorrow.
She doesn't deserve my forgiveness.
And I will hate her.
I will hate her forever.
Morning, ladies. Brisk and brilliant outside today.
Last day at the river.
- Let's go. - Get your ice skates.
Jo, you promised me I could come last time.
Jo!
Is she going to be like this forever?
It was a very hard loss for her.
Is there nothing I can do?
Go after her.
Don't say anything till Jo has got good-natured with Laurie,
and then just say some kind thing.
I'm sure she'll be friends again.
Jo, wait!
I'm coming!
You said I could come last time!
Jo, wait, I'm coming!
Wait!
Jo!
Stay near the edge. It's not safe in the middle.
- Got it. - Jo!
Jo, wait!
Jo!
Come on, let's go!
Jo, wait!
Jo!
- Are you all right? - Yes.
Amy, it's Amy.
Jo!
Jo, get a branch.
Amy.
- Amy. - Help!
Please help me!
Jo, help me pull.
Amy, grab the branch. Grab it, Amy.
I'm so sorry. Oh, my sister.
She's asleep.
If she had died, it would have been my fault.
She'll be fine.
The doctor said he didn't even think she'd catch cold.
What is wrong with me?
I've made so many resolutions and I've written sad notes
and I've cried over my sins,
but it just doesn't seem to help.
When I get in a passion,
I get so savage I could hurt anyone and I'd enjoy it.
You remind me of myself.
But you're never angry.
I'm angry nearly every day of my life.
You are?
I'm not patient by nature,
but with nearly 40 years of effort,
I'm learning to not let it get the better of me.
I'll do the same then.
I hope you'll do a great deal better than me.
There are some natures
too noble to curb
and too lofty to bend.
Jo?
Oh, Beth. My love.
You didn't need to come.
I never should have left.
Do you need anything? Here.
Take some water.
So good to see your face.
We're going to the sea to get you strong and well.
The sea?
I want you dancing by the time Amy gets back.
- She's not cutting her trip short, is she? - No, no.
Good.
Is there any news? What does she say?
She writes that Laurie is there.
I'm glad he's with her.
He won't respond to any of my letters.
Do you miss him?
I miss everything.
I know.
Hurry up, you two!
- Meg's gonna be gone for a week! - We're coming!
You take the other carriage, Laurie, and spy on Meg.
- Make sure she doesn't fall in love. - I will.
It was so nice of Annie to invite me to her debutante ball.
- Thank you for letting me go, Marmee. - Just be who you are.
And wear this to the ball.
It was mine when I was your age.
I never understood saving jewelry until marriage.
You should have something that's just yours.
Pretty things should be enjoyed.
Yes, pretty things should be enjoyed.
Hannah!
I wish I could go to the debutante ball.
Do you think this is a good idea,
her going away like this?
Girls have to go into the world
and make up their own minds about things.
- Don't forget about us. - I won't. It's only a week.
- It's beautiful. - It's not yours.
Well, it would look very good on me.
She needs to have some decent shoes.
Thank you for the carriage, Mr. Laurence.
I don't know how to repay you.
Nonsense!
I've said hi to the horses before. They're very nice.
Although there is one thing.
It occurred to me today
that my daughter's piano suffers from want of use.
Any of your girls would like to run over and practice on it now and then?
Just to keep it in tune.
If they don't care to come, then never mind.
Oh, sir.
They do care.
Very very much.
- You're the musical girl? - I love it dearly.
And I'll come
if you're quite sure nobody will hear me and be disturbed.
Not a soul, my dear.
- I'll miss you! - Bye!
- Good riddance! - No!
Bye!
Enjoy the ball!
- I'll be back soon. - Don't go and get married, Meg.
- Don't go falling in love. - Unless right now.
Thank you.
I'd be so excited about tonight.
Oh, no, I don't actually.
Now what dress will you wear tonight, Meg?
- I will wear this one. - That one?
- Can't you send home for another? - I haven't got another.
Only the one? That's so funny.
Not at all.
There's no need in sending home, Daisy.
I'm going to call you Daisy now.
I've got a sweet pink dress laid away,
and you'll wear it to please me, won't you, Daisy?
- If it's all right. - Of course.
Everyone's in love with you, Daisy.
- You have to keep my dress. - I can't keep your dress.
- You have to. - No, I...
Have fun, little Daisy.
Laurie. I didn't know you were going to come.
It was supposed to be a surprise.
What a lovely surprise it is!
Why are they calling you Daisy?
It's their pet name for me.
Meg is a perfectly good name.
It's just like playing a part.
To be Daisy for a little while.
What would Jo say?
You wouldn't actually marry one of these men, would you?
I might.
You'll get a terrible headache tomorrow.
Do you like how I look?
No, I don't.
Why not?
I don't like fuss and feathers.
You're the rudest boy I ever saw.
Please forgive me and come dance.
I'm afraid it would be too disagreeable for you.
I don't like your dress,
but I think you are just splendid.
- Really? - Really.
I know it's silly,
but please don't tell Jo.
Let me have my fun tonight.
I'll be desperately good for the rest of my life.
I'm sorry, John.
The silk was the first real expense.
50 dollars, while a lot,
is not, I suppose, too much for a dress,
with all the notions that are needed to finish it these days.
It's not exactly even a dress yet. It's...
It's just the fabric.
Oh.
I see.
I know you're angry, John.
I don't mean to waste your money,
but I can't resist when I see Sally buying all she wants
and pitying me because I don't.
I tried to be contented, but it is hard.
I'm tired of being poor.
I was afraid of this.
I do my best, Meg.
Oh, John.
My dear, kind, hard-working boy.
It was so ungrateful and wicked.
How could I say it?
- Perhaps you meant it. - No, I didn't.
We'll work out a way to get you a coat as well
and then won't we be grand?
- The two of us. - I can't afford it, my dear.
- John. - I need to go to bed.
John.
And I really am very sorry
that you've had to do without so many beautiful things
and that you're married to someone
who can't give them to you.
Hello, Amy!
I don't want to see you.
Amy, don't be mad at me.
- I'm sorry for how I behaved. - Have you been drinking again?
Why are you being so hard on me?
- It's 4 pm. - Someone has to do it.
When do you begin your great work of art, Raphaella?
Never.
Never, what? Why?
I'm a failure.
Jo is in New York being a writer and I'm a failure.
It's quite a statement to make at 20.
Rome took all the vanity out of me
and Paris made me realise I'd never be a genius,
so I'm giving up all my foolish artistic hopes.
Why should you give up, Amy? You have so much talent...
Talent is no genius,
and no amount of energy can make it so.
I want to be great or nothing,
and I will not be some commonplace dauber,
and I don't intend to try anymore.
What women are allowed into the club of geniuses anyway?
The Brontës?
- That's it? - Yes, I think so.
And who always declares genius?
- Men, I suppose. - They're cutting down the competition.
That's a very complicated argument to make me feel better.
Do you though? Do you feel better?
I do think, male or female,
I am of middling talent.
Middling talent?
May I ask your last portrait be of me?
All right.
Now that you've given up all your foolish artistic hopes,
what are you gonna do with your life?
Polish up on my other talents and become an ornament to society.
That's where Fred Vaughn comes in, I suppose.
- Don't make fun. - I said his name.
- You're not engaged, I hope? - No.
But you will be if he goes down properly on one knee?
Most likely, yes.
He's rich. Richer than you, even.
I understand.
Queens of society can't get on without money,
although it does sound odd from the mouth of one of your mother's girls.
I've always known I would marry rich.
- Why should I be ashamed of that? - It's nothing to be ashamed of.
As long as you love him.
I believe we have some power over who we love.
It isn't something that just happens to a person.
I think the poets might disagree.
Well, I'm not a poet.
I'm just a woman.
And as a woman there's no way for me to make my own money.
Not enough to earn a living or support my family.
And if I had money, which I don't,
that money would belong to my husband the moment we got married.
And if we had children, they would be his, not mine.
They would be his property.
So don't sit there and tell me
that marriage isn't an economic proposition because it is.
It may not be for you, but it most certainly is for me.
Oh, that's Fred. Can you unbutton me, please?
Thank you.
How do I look? Do I look all right?
You look beautiful.
You are beautiful.
Fred!
I've missed you.
This is Fred Vaughn and his sister Kate. Of course, you know Mr. Brooke.
This is Meg, Amy, Beth and Jo.
- So pleased to meet you. - Oh, how elegant.
I'm Amy March. You remember that name.
I'm gonna come find you one day in London.
Oh, I certainly will.
- I know something you don't know. - Tell me this second.
Has Meg perhaps mislaid a glove?
- Mr. Brooke has it. - Yes.
- How do you know? - I saw it.
- Where? - In his pocket.
- All this time? - Yes. Isn't it romantic?
- No, it's horrid. - I thought you'd be pleased.
At the idea of anybody coming to take Meg away?
- No, thank you. - Ah.
You'll feel better about it when somebody comes to take you away.
- I'd like to see anyone try. - I would like to see someone try as well.
"We could not have loved the earth so well
if we had had no childhood in it,
if it were not the earth
where the same flowers come up again every spring
that we used to gather with our tiny fingers.
What novelty is worth that sweet monotony
where everything is known and loved
because it is known?"
How great is that?
I love to listen to you read, Jo,
but I just love it better when you read the stories you've written.
I don't have any new stories.
Why not?
Haven't written any.
You have a pencil and paper. Sit here and write me something.
I can't.
I don't think I can anymore.
Why?
It's just...
No one even cares to hear my stories anyway.
Write something for me.
You are a writer
even before anyone knew or paid you.
I'm very sick and you must do what I say.
Do what Marmee taught us to do.
Do it for someone else.
If you're walking to Vermont,
there's a Mrs. Sewell in Keene New Hampshire
who will give you room and board.
There you are.
You should go home to the girls. I can take care of this.
I need to be here.
I spent my whole life ashamed of my country.
No offence meant,
but you should still be ashamed.
I know. I am.
- Hello, sir. - Hello, ma'am.
Do you have sons in the army?
Yes, ma'am, I had four,
but two were killed
and one is a prisoner.
I'm going to the other.
He's very sick in a Washington hospital.
You've done a great deal for your country, sir.
I'd go myself if I was any use,
but as I ain't
I give my boys.
Sir, I'll get you a blanket
to keep you warm
- Thank you. God bless. - Bless you, sir.
Mrs. March?
Telegram from Washington, ma'am.
- Is Jo back yet from Aunt March? - No, I haven't seen her yet.
- I've got it. - You want another pair of shoes?
Thank you. I can't miss the last train.
Oh, Hannah, did you get Father's nightshirts?
- Yes, I did. - What can I do to help, Beth?
- Thank you so much for being here. - Of course.
Did you find the warm blanket?
If I may be of any more assistance, please tell me.
I'll look in on the girls every day without fail.
Thank you for everything.
I've always admired your husband. I pray for a quick recovery.
I found these linens.
- Hannah, medicine? - The medicine is all packed.
I'm sorry.
I came to offer myself as an escort to your mother.
Mr. Laurence has commissions for me in Washington,
and it would give me real satisfaction to be of service to her there.
- Thank you. - Of course.
All right.
While I'm gone, Hannah is in charge.
Remember to check on the Hummels.
It will be a difficult winter for everyone.
Will this be enough for the train?
25 dollars?
That's not like Aunt March to be so generous.
I didn't go to Aunt March. I couldn't bear to.
- Where did you get the money? - I only sold what was my own.
Jo, your hair!
- Your one beauty! - You look like a boy.
It doesn't affect the fate of the nation, so don't wail.
I'm so proud you're my daughter.
I was just crazy to do something for Father.
- It'll be good for my vanity anyway. - It could be nice.
- You never do that. - This isn't what I wanted for her.
Oh, Teddy.
Oh, Jo.
My girls,
I love you more than words can say.
Be good to each other, pray for Father's recovery
and I'll be back as soon as I can.
Love you.
Jo.
What is it? Is it Father?
No.
It's my hair.
I would feel the same way.
I know you would.
Laurie, when are you going back to your grandfather?
Very soon.
You've said that a dozen times in the past month.
Short answers save trouble.
He is expecting you, so why don't you do it?
- Natural depravity, I suppose. - Natural indolence, you mean.
I'll only plague him if I go,
so I might as well stay and plague you a little longer.
You can bear it.
In fact I think it agrees with you.
Stop.
- What are you doing? - I'm looking at you.
I mean, what do you intend to do?
- With life? - Yes.
I've been writing an opera.
- I'd be the central figure. - That's a waste of time.
What would you have me do?
Go on and work for your grandfather and make something of yourself.
You're not playing fair.
Here.
It's really good.
When did you do this one?
It was the day at the beach.
First time I met Fred.
That's right.
What's he doing?
He's in London on business.
He'll be back in a few weeks.
Don't marry him.
What?
Don't marry him.
- Why? - Why?
You know why.
No.
- No. - Yes.
- No. Laurie. - What?
You're being mean.
- Stop it. - What do you mean?
I have been second to Jo my whole life in everything.
And I will not be the person you settle for
just because you cannot have her.
I won't. I won't do it.
I won't, not when I've spent my entire life loving you.
I'm making a mould of my foot for Laurie
to remind him I have nice feet.
Mr. Brooke writes that Father is still very sick,
but improving.
Mr. Brooke also says Mother is the best nurse a man could ask for.
I wish all the letters were from Mother and not Mr. Brooke.
I'm grateful for any letters.
I think the deep purple is very fitting for Mr. Laurence.
- Do you agree, Amy? - Quite. The design is very cunning.
I had to thank him somehow
for allowing me to play the piano at his house all the time.
I'm going to town for groceries.
Jo, can you look into getting more firewood?
You all haven't been to see the Hummels. We should go.
Beth, we would barely have enough to feed ourselves.
- Besides, I have to finish this story. - Marmee said that...
Marmee told us to do lots of things, but we can't possibly do them all.
But I always go by myself, and you haven't been keeping up with your tasks.
We do. We work.
Don't worry, sweet girl. We'll find the time.
- But it's been weeks. - We'll go soon.
No, my foot is stuck! I can't get it out!
Stop it, Jo!
I can't get it out! I'm gonna lose my foot!
- I can't get it out! - Fine. I'll go myself.
Hello. For Mr. Laurence.
Here she comes!
Beth, look what they got you...
- Here's a letter from the old gentleman. - Open the note!
Oh, Beth, just look!
Jo, read the letter. I cannot.
"Miss Beth March,
I have had many pairs of slippers in my life,
but I never had any that suited me so well as yours,
and they will always remind me of the gentle giver.
I like to pay my debts and hope you will accept this gift.
Your grateful friend and humble servant, James Laurence."
Beth! So sweet, "your humble servant."
- Isn't it beautiful? - Look how shiny it is!
It has gold that goes all the way around...
All the way around.
- So beautiful. - And it's got a little drawing here.
Sir, I wanted to thank you for...
You remind me
so much of my little girl.
The piano is yours.
I should have given it to you long ago.
Thank you.
My child,
you're burning.
The Hummels are very sick.
She's resting.
How is she? Is there anything I can do?
- What is it? - Scarlet fever.
What's scarlet fever?
I visited the Hummels. The baby has died.
Have you all had it before?
Meg and I have, but Amy hasn't.
- She will have to be sent away. - I don't want to be sent away.
- We'll see if Aunt March can take her. - I don't like Aunt March.
It's for your own good, child.
- Should we send for Mother? - No, we shouldn't worry her.
I've never wished for money more than now.
Listen.
We'll nurse her, and she'll get better.
She will.
"The post office in the forest was a capital little institution,
and flourished wonderfully
for many things passed through it:
poetry and pickles,
music and ginger bread,
invitations, scoldings and even puppies."
- It's all about us. - It is.
- I love it. - It's just a little story.
- Nothing like what you usually write. - Do you think it's too boring?
- No, it's my favourite one yet. - Really?
- Write me another. - Yes, ma'am.
- Keep writing them. - I will.
Even when I'm not here.
Don't say that.
- I have to tell you. - No, you don't.
I've had a very long time to think about this,
and I'm not afraid.
No.
It's like the tide going out.
It goes out slowly, but it can't be stopped.
I'll stop it.
I stopped it before.
You will get better.
Father will get better,
and we'll all be together soon, all right?
- We can't stop God's will. - God hasn't met my will yet.
What Jo wills shall be done.
Amy.
Come here.
- Yes? - Come sit.
If you are very good, one day this ring will belong to you.
Really?
If you keep being a proper young lady,
just see if it doesn't.
You are your family's hope now.
Beth is sick, Jo is a lost cause
and I hear Meg has had her head turned by a penniless tutor, so...
It'll be up to you
to support them all,
and your indigent parents in their old age.
So you must marry well.
Hmm?
Save your family.
All right. That's all I wanted to say to you.
So you can go back and do your little painting.
- Hello, Aunt March. - Oh.
That Laurence boy was just here.
He was?
What a disappointment he's turned out to be.
Must be the Italian in him.
Uh, when will he be back?
He's gone to London.
Why?
What do you need to discuss with him?
I just told Fred Vaughn I wouldn't marry him.
Meg.
I'll come home to help with the children. I'm so sorry, I just...
- I'm so worried for Beth. - Stay.
I asked for leave. I'll take care of the children.
John.
There's one other thing.
You should send your fabric to the dressmaker as soon as possible.
- I can't. - I don't want to hear another word.
I want you to have that dress. My old coat will be fine for winter.
- John. - It's all settled.
John. I really can't.
I sold the fabric to Sally.
You did?
I don't want you to be unhappy.
I couldn't be.
John Brooke is my husband,
and I'm his wife.
Oh! Hannah!
It's all right. It's all right.
What do we do?
We should send for your mother.
- Marmee. - Bless you.
Marmee, she's worse. I didn't know what else to do.
- Jo, how is she? - My girls.
My sweet Beth.
Hannah, make a clear broth and Jo, get ice.
We need to cool you.
Who's with Father?
John stayed with him.
We need to change the linens.
We're going to move you, sweet girl.
Look at her. Hold on, it's okay.
Please fight.
Don't go quietly.
Fight.
Please. Please just fight to the end
and be loud and don't just quietly go away, Beth.
Marmee?
Jo.
Merry Christmas, Beth.
- You have to make sure it's in the middle. - I know.
You're doing the sides first.
The sides are the best for my popcorn because I'm making popcorn now.
You're wasting decorations.
The sides are the most important bit.
Here's another Christmas gift for the March family.
Oh, my God!
Father!
My little women.
How you've grown!
Oh, Beth.
Merry Christmas, my dear.
- Merry Christmas to each of you. - Merry Christmas, Father.
Merry Christmas.
Thank God.
- Thank God you're home. - Thank God for you.
Now I can be angry with you in person.
I can't believe today is my wedding day.
What's wrong?
Nothing.
Jo.
We can leave. We can leave right now.
I can make money.
I'll sell stories. I'll do anything.
I'll cook. I'll clean. I'll work in a factory.
- I can make a life for us. - Jo...
And you should be an actress and you should have a life on the stage.
Let's just run away together.
- I want to get married. - Why?
Because I love him.
You will be bored of him in two years,
and we will be interesting forever.
Just because my dreams are different than yours
doesn't mean they're unimportant.
I want a home
and a family,
and I'm willing to work and struggle,
but I want to do it with John.
I just hate that you're leaving me.
- Don't leave. - Oh, Jo...
I'm not leaving you.
And besides,
one day it will be your turn.
I'd rather be a free spinster and paddle my own canoe.
I would.
I can't believe childhood is over.
It was going to end one way or another,
and what a happy end!
What excessive promises,
giving yourself away
to get the other.
What a gift,
always given before is known the cost
or the reward.
I pronounce you man and wife.
You may kiss the bride.
You don't have to make a fuss.
You don't need to see me to the carriage.
I'm happy to.
I hope you will be happy now
that you've ruined your life
the same way your mother did by marrying your father.
Thank you, my sister. You're too kind.
And thank you for today's festivities.
You're most welcome.
Thank you, Aunt March.
I don't like to be kissed.
Oh, I'm sorry.
You will be sorry when you've tried love in a cottage
and found it a failure.
It can't be worse than some people find in big houses.
Oh, I quite understand your meaning, missus.
- I don't miss a thing. - We know this.
And you're not entirely wrong.
I may not always be right, but I'm never wrong.
And here's the only sane member of the family.
I really can't take anymore of this.
Marmee! Marmee!
Marmee!
- Aunt March is going to Europe! - And she wants me to go with her!
That's wonderful!
Now I know why I spent all those boring hours reading to her.
No, no, she wants me to go.
As her companion.
Europe with you?
Yes, she wants me to work on my art and my French, of course.
You don't really like French though, do you?
That's wonderful, Amy.
Father, I'm going to Europe.
Meg married, Amy off to Europe,
and now that you're a graduate you'll be off on a long holiday.
I'm not good like Beth, so I'm angry and I'm restless.
You don't have to stay here, Jo.
Why? Should we run off and join a pirate ship?
- No, no... - It's no use, Jo.
- Please, don't. No. - Jo, we gotta have it out.
I've loved you ever since I've known you. I couldn't help it.
And I tried to show it and you wouldn't let me, which is fine,
but I must make you hear now and give me an answer
because I cannot go on like this any longer.
- Please don't. - I gave up billiards.
I gave up everything you didn't like. I'm happy I did.
It's fine and I waited and I never complained
because I...
I figured you'd love me, Jo.
And I realise I'm not half good enough,
- and I'm not this great man... - Yes, yes, yes, you are.
You're a great deal too good for me.
I'm so grateful to you and I'm so proud of you.
And I just...
I don't see why I can't love you as you want me to.
I don't know why.
- You can't? - No.
I can't change how I feel,
and it would be a lie to say I do when I don't.
I'm so sorry, Teddy.
I'm so sorry, but I can't help it.
I can't love anyone else, Jo. I only love you.
Teddy, it would be a disaster if we got married.
- It wouldn't be a disaster. - We'd be miserable.
- Jo, I'd be a perfect saint. - I can't. I can't.
- I've tried it and I failed. - Why does everyone expect it then?
Why does your family and my grandpa expect it?
Why are you saying this? Say yes.
Let's be happy together, Jo.
I can't say yes truly, so I'm not going to say it at all.
You'll see that I'm right eventually and you'll thank me for it.
I'd rather hang myself than realise this, Jo.
- Teddy. - I would rather be dead.
Teddy, don't say that.
Teddy.
Listen, you'll find some lovely accomplished girl
who will love you and adore you
and she's gonna make a fine mistress for your fine house,
- but I wouldn't, all right? - Yes, you would, Jo.
Look at me. I'm homely and I'm awkward...
- I love you, Jo. - ... and I'm odd.
- And you'd be ashamed of me. - I love you, Jo.
And we would quarrel. We can't help it even now.
I'd hate elegant society. You'd hate my scribbling.
We would be unhappy,
and we'd wish we hadn't done it, and everything would be horrid.
Is there anything more?
- No, nothing more. - All right.
Except that...
Teddy, I don't believe I will ever marry.
I'm happy as I am.
I love my liberty too well to be in any hurry to give it up.
- I think you're wrong about that, Jo. - No.
I think you will marry, Jo.
I think you'll find someone and love them
and you will live and die for them because that's your way,
and you will.
And I'll watch.
I don't want to disturb your writing.
I don't do that anymore.
Didn't save her.
You're much too lonely here, Jo.
Wouldn't you like to go back to New York?
What about your friend?
- Friedrich, wasn't that his name? - No.
I ruined our friendship with my temper just as I ruin everything else.
I'm sure I'll never see him again.
I doubt a sincere friend would be deterred.
I wish that were true.
If I was a girl in a book, this would all be so easy.
Just give up the world happily.
Laurie's returning, you know.
- Oh, he is? - Mmh.
There was a letter from Amy. She's coming home.
She's devastated about Beth.
Aunt March is very ill, so Laurie will accompany them.
- That's good of him. - Mmh.
- What is it? - I don't know.
He'll always be quite contempt with my family.
I don't understand it.
Perhaps...
Perhaps I
was too quick in turning him down.
Laurie.
Do you love him?
If he asked me again, I think I would say yes.
Do you think he'll ask me again?
But do you love him?
I care more to be loved.
I want to be loved.
That is not the same as loving.
I know.
You know,
I just feel...
I just feel like
women...
They have minds and they have souls
as well as just hearts,
and they've got ambition and they've got talent
as well as just beauty,
and I'm so sick of people saying
that love is just all a woman is fit for.
I'm so sick of it,
but I'm so lonely.
I couldn't let you travel alone, not with Aunt March being so sick,
even if you despise me.
I don't despise you, Laurie.
Beth was the best of us.
I'm not marrying Fred.
I heard about that.
And you are under no obligation to say anything
or do anything.
I just didn't love him as I should.
So we don't need to talk about it. We don't need to say anything.
My dear Teddy.
I miss you more than I can express.
I used to think that the worst fate was to be a wife.
I was young and stupid,
but now I have changed.
The worst fate is to live my life without you in it.
I was wrong to turn you down and to run away to New York.
Jo.
Jo. Jo.
Jo.
Wake up.
Teddy! You're back!
You're glad to see me then?
Yes.
I was worried.
Here, come sit.
How's Amy?
Did she bother you all the way from Europe with her preening?
Yes, but I like that.
Where is she now? Did she not come straight home?
Your mother has her down at Meg's. We stopped on the way home.
There was no getting my wife out of their clutches.
Your what?
I've done it now. It was meant to be a surprise.
We were engaged and we were hoping to wait,
but that is to say that now we are man and wife.
You and Amy?
Yes.
- Are you in love? - Yes.
Jo, I wanna say one thing and then we'll put it away forever.
I've always loved you,
but the love I feel for Amy is different.
And I think
you were right about this.
I think we would have killed each other.
Yes.
I think it was meant this way.
Oh, Teddy!
You know you're the only one who ever calls me that?
Teddy.
What does Amy call you?
"My Lord."
That sounds like her.
You look deserving of it.
Can we still be friends, Jo, please?
Of course, my boy. Always.
- Laurie told you? - Yes, yes.
Amy, I'm so happy for you.
This was meant to be.
Oh, I'm so relieved, thank you.
I wanted to write, Jo, and I wanted to explain everything,
but everything was happening so fast and I was worried you'd be angry at me.
No, no.
No? You're not angry at me?
Life is too short to be angry at one's sisters.
I really miss her.
I know.
Thank you.
Mr. Laurence.
Jo.
Oh, Jo.
I couldn't bring myself to...
The house doesn't seem right without her,
and I couldn't go in knowing she wouldn't be there.
I know I'm not half so good as my sister,
but you know I'll be a friend to lean on,
if you'll let me.
Dear Mr. Dashwood.
Enclosed are the first few chapters
of a piece I've only begun working on.
It could suit as a story for young people,
but I think it is probably quite boring.
However, I'm sending it to you just in case it has something of value,
though I doubt it.
Jo March.
I thought she hated me.
She could still hate you and leave you the house.
What about you and John?
I can't manage a grand house like this. It's too big.
I should sell it,
but I'd love to do something
that would really make Aunt March turn in her grave.
I wouldn't mind that.
A nice turning, just a rotation, nothing terrible.
What will you do?
I'd like to open a school.
We never had a proper school,
and now there are women's colleges opening.
- There should be a school for Daisy. - What will Demi do?
I'll open a school for boys and girls both.
What about writing?
- What about it? - What are you working on?
I started something, but I don't think it's very good.
Everyone likes what you write.
- No, they don't. - I do.
- Well, it's just about our little life. - So?
Who will be interested in a story
of domestic struggles and joys?
It doesn't have any real importance, does it?
Maybe it doesn't seem important because people don't write about them.
No, writing doesn't confer importance. It reflects it.
I don't think so.
Writing them will make them more important.
When did you become so wise?
I always have been. You were too busy noticing my faults.
Which were never there, of course.
Dear Miss March.
I read the chapters you sent,
and I have to agree: they aren't very promising,
but please send more stories of the scandalous variety,
if you have any.
Or, shall I say, your friend can.
My apologies for the joke. I couldn't help it.
Jo! Come down!
Coming!
I'm starving.
- Oh, uh, Jo, you might want to wait. - I'm famished.
But Jo, dear, you have a guest.
I don't know anyone.
I'm sorry to intrude.
It's you.
Hello.
Hello. I'm Josephine March. I'm Jo.
Josephine, is that you? Welcome, welcome.
This is Kitty and Minny.
I see that you've already met our professor.
He's a very accomplished man.
Your mother says that you are a writer.
I keep a diary, you know.
- Oh. - A lot of interesting people here.
Intellectuals and Europeans...
Jo, I hope it is all right. I got your address from Mrs. Kirke.
- Who is this? Who are you? - I'm so sorry to intrude.
I was close by and I thought I...
- But I'll be going. - No, no!
Please stay. We have more than enough room.
Can someone tell me who this man is?
- I don't want to be a burden. - Oh, you're not a burden at all.
- Yes, of course. Please. - I'm Laurie.
- Who are you? - I'm Friedrich Bhaer.
We were at the same boarding house together in New York.
Oh, Jo. He's very handsome.
Do you intend to stay in New York?
No. I've been offered a professorship in California.
And as I have nothing keeping me here,
I thought I might go west.
It is new there.
They are less particular about immigrants.
Perhaps I should go west.
You're not an immigrant, so perhaps you should stay home.
Well, I'm going!
This is a beautiful instrument.
Which one of you plays?
It was my sister, Beth.
We all play a little.
But none so well as her.
It is very hard to lose a sister.
I'm sorry.
- Do you play? - Yes, I do.
It would make us so happy if you played now.
She wouldn't want the piano to sit silent.
I don't wish to offend.
Not in the least.
It was lovely to meet you.
Bye.
- Bye, Laurie. - Goodbye.
- Thank you for everything. - Lovely to have you.
If you ever come to California,
I would love to see you.
I don't know that I will, but thank you.
Well.
Goodbye.
What?
Why are you all looking at me like that?
What a wonderful man! I hope he comes back.
He would make a terrific friend for me.
- Oh, Father, he wasn't here for you. - No?
Jo, you love him.
- What? No, I don't. - Yes, you do.
I am half as smart as you, but I can see it so plainly.
You love him. Doesn't she love him?
It's a good instinct. You love him.
I've never seen you so happy. What else is love?
You need to go after him.
Laurie, prepare the horses. We can catch him before he gets on the train.
- I'm coming, too. - Yes.
- No, I'm not going. - Yes, you are.
- Amy is right. - Exactly.
Never thought I'd prepare a carriage to help Jo March chase a man,
but I like it.
- He's moving to California. - That was fiction.
He was practically begging for a reason to stay.
- But it's raining outside. - It doesn't matter.
Can you come with me? I need to fix you.
Laurie, will you stop standing there and go get the horses ready?
Thank you.
You never ask about my mother, even when you know I've seen her.
I assume she's still alive.
- But I ask after your mother. - I have no idea why.
- You're willfully missing the point. - That's true.
What? What is that? What do they want?
I have no idea.
- Father, are you publishing this? - What happens to the little women?
Tell me you have the rest of this book.
What?
I'm just trying to fix this hair.
- Stop the carriage! - Stop! Stop!
- Stop! - All right, Jo, out, out.
Go, go, go.
Kiss him! Come on!
Frankly, I don't see why she didn't marry the neighbour.
Because the neighbour marries her sister.
Right, right. Of course.
- So who does she marry? - No one.
She doesn't marry either of them.
No.
No, no, no. That won't work at all.
She says the whole book that she doesn't want to marry.
Who cares?
Girls wanna see women married, not consistent.
- No, it isn't the right ending. - The right ending is the one that sells.
Trust me.
If you decide to end your delightful book
with your heroine a spinster,
no one will buy it.
It won't be worth printing.
I suppose marriage has always been an economic proposition
even in fiction.
- It's romance. - It's mercenary.
Just end it that way, will you?
Fine.
Go! Kiss him, Ms. March!
Jo!
I don't want you to leave.
- I want you to stay. - You do?
Yes.
I would never leave if you wished me to stay.
- No, I want you to stay. - I have nothing to give you, Jo.
It doesn't matter.
- My hands are empty. - They're not empty.
I love it.
It's romantic.
It's very moving. It's very emotional.
Well, thank you.
We can call the chapter
"Under the Umbrella."
- That's good. - Perfect.
Now, there's the question of the contract.
I prepare to give you 5 % of the royalties.
So I get 5 % of the profit?
5 % of the net profits after I recoup.
What about a payment upfront?
I'm the one taking the risk in printing this book.
Yes, but it's my book.
If it does well, we'll both make money.
If not, I can stay in business.
So I get nothing if it fails?
No, I'll give you 500 dollars right now to buy out the copyright.
Copyright?
That's the right for reprinting, that sort of thing.
Sequels, characters for other stories.
Might that be worth something?
- Well, only if it's a success. - I see.
Seems like something I would want to own, no?
Didn't you say your family needed the money more immediately?
Yes, they do, which is why I wanted upfront payment.
No, it's too risky. I'll only pay for the copyright.
You keep your 500 dollars and I'll keep the copyright.
Also I want 10 % of royalties.
5.5 %. That's very generous.
- 9 %. - 6 % and that's it.
Mr. Dashwood, if I'm going to sell my heroine into marriage for money,
I might as well get some of it.
6.6 %.
Done.
And you don't need to decide about the copyright right now.
No, I've decided.
I want to own my own book.
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