Big Little Women...

2019 movies...there was QuentinTarantino's love poem to Sharon Tate...Martin Scorsese's atonement for films knee-deep in gore without redemption...Bong Joon-ho's insidious tale of class warfare...Lulu Wang's tender look at what we gain and lose in assimilation...Noah Baumbach's (un)biased look at the denouement of marriage, maybe his own...Todd Phillips polarizing view of karma in our increasingly uncaring society...but Greta Gerwig…your latest take on Little Women destroyed me in the best sense of the word...in this century as women claim to be a Carrie Bradshaw or one of  her posse...just color me a March girl...I am Meg...and I want to be an actress...but realism sits me down...I am Beth...the piano calls my name...but my concert is for no one but me...I am Amy...the world is wide...and French...and the easel beckons...but there is a clarity too...and the paint brush is packed away...I am older...I am Marmee...angry at the world every day...because of how it should be and how it is...for everyone...for women...and I vow to be better...and now I am approaching Aunt March's age...as a man the outspokenness would be bold...as a women...in Alcott's time...and even now...crochety and rigid...but most of all I am Jo...the writer...creating a world with a pen...or a keyboard...brimming with equal portions assuredness and self-doubt...Greta Gerwig is Jo too...and the writer in me ached for her...the previews for her exquisite film consisted of Sponge Bob, Dolittle and other fodder aimed at children...what the hell was Regal trying to say?...that Little Women is a children's movie?...would they pull this shit with Tarantino?...will the DGA or Oscar invite Greta to the big boys table?...or sit her in the parlor on a velvet settee?...well maybe if her name was G. Gerwig...you know like J.K. Rowling...or J. March...