By: Tania Nana
As a lifelong fan of Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, I’ve read the book more times than I can count and devoured every screen adaptation out there. So when I stepped into the Theatre Royal Plymouth, I wasn’t just hoping for a faithful retelling, I was hoping to feel that familiar spark again. Thankfully, this production adaptation by Anne-Marie Casey didn’t just meet expectations; it stirred something even deeper.
Little Women follows the lives of the four March sisters, Jo, Meg, Beth, and Amy, as they grow up during the American Civil War. Through love, loss, ambition and sisterhood, this heartwarming stage adaptation brings Alcott’s classic novel to life with warmth, humour and timeless emotional depth.
From the moment the curtains drew back, I felt right at home in the March household. The set, featuring bare winter trees, a glowing hearth and softly lit lamps, evoked concord in all its humble charm. It’s stagecraft that soothes and invites, allowing the story itself to take centre stage.
Stepping in for the injured Honeysuckle Weeks, understudy Ellie Pawsey took on the role of Marmee with quiet grace and maternal warmth. Pawsey’s presence never feels forced; instead, she anchors the family with gentle authority, perfectly guiding her girls through hardship and hope.
A particular highlight was Imogen Elliott as Amy, my personal favourite March sister and, in this production, an undeniable standout. Elliott brings a spark to Amy that’s both endearing and layered. Her ambition, her flair for the dramatic, her sharp wit, they all shone through. But it was in her quieter moments, especially when confronted with the realities of growing up, that Elliott truly grounded Amy’s character. It was refreshing to see her portrayed with such depth and affection.
The sisters’ bond felt real from the start, warm, messy and full of love. Grace Molony as Jo brims with fiery wit and fierce independence, a perfect foil to society’s expectations. Jade Kennedy brings depth to Meg, threading sweetness with a quiet strength. And Catherine Chalk’s Beth, tender and timid, lights up the stage with a thoughtful fragility. Together, they create the kind of connection you could almost reach out and touch.
Elsewhere, Belinda Lang adds zing as Aunt March, with sharp timing, dry wit and a flicker of affection beneath the formality, while Cillian Lenaghan’s Laurie was boyish and bright. Jack Ashton delivered a quietly sincere double performance as both Mr Brooke and Professor Bhaer.
What struck me most about this production is how well it balances humour, tenderness and reflection. Witty banter and domestic scene playfulness are tempered with quieter moments of ambition, uncertainty and sorrow. The show blends joy and realism in a way that makes the story feel truly timeless.
And through it all, the music, subtle, sparse, never overdone, lifted the emotional beats just enough without losing intimacy. In one particularly moving moment, the sisters gathered around the piano, and everything softened.
The production occasionally slows to linger on big moments, but rather than feeling sluggish, it gives us time to soak in the Marches’ journey, their losses, reunions and growth. Some may find it unhurried; however, I found it gave the story space to breathe, just like the seasons it follows.
This Little Women is no rushed retelling. It’s a lovingly made, carefully stitched quilt of a show familiar, comforting, but not without its surprises. For longtime fans like me, it feels like coming home. For newcomers, it offers a doorway into one of literature’s most enduring families, handled with both reverence and heart.
Whether you’re rediscovering the March sisters or meeting them for the first time, this production wraps you in nostalgia and warmth. It’s an unforgettable evening of theatre that invites you to laugh, feel, and carry a little more love and hope out into the night.