Original subtitles

♪ Way back when in 1863

♪ Now part of the American lore

♪ A young family must leave their home

♪ Because of a civil war

♪ Livin' their lives in a brand new town

♪ Doin' the best they can

♪ Four little women are on their own

♪ Lookin' to make a stand

♪ Fortunes of war can change the way

♪ We imagine our lives will be

♪ The March family are on their way

♪ Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy

Ever since we were little,

and long before we moved to Newcord,

Marmee would always look in on us

before she went to bed herself.

Meg's room was right at the head of the stairs,

so that's where Marmee would start.

Uh-oh.

Good night, dear.

This particular night, there was no way anyone could

have known about the adventure that Meg was about to have.

In fact, Meg didn't know herself.

Anyway, Beth and I were sleeping soundly

as Marmee made her rounds.

At least I was, because nothing ever

wakes me up once I'm asleep.

I suppose Marmee will still be fussing

over me when I'm an old lady of 20.

No, I won't do it, Susie!

Oh!

I won't do it, you can't make me give up my licorice.

Susie, you put that right back

in the bag this very minute, you hear?

I suppose little people have their demons too.

And as Daphne hurried down the poplar-lined lane,

Hugo spurred the mighty stallion in her direction.

Her heart pounded in

anticipation of their meeting

after so many months of being separated.

It's past midnight, Jo.

I'm just finishing up now, Marmee.

If I'm going to be a great novelist,

I've got to burn the midnight oil.

Oh, but you can't become a great novelist

if you don't get plenty of sleep.

After all, your brain needs to rest, too.

I know that, Marmee, and I'll get plenty of sleep

right after I finish this chapter.

You promise you'll go to bed then?

As soon as Hugo finds Daphne.

Oh my, I hope he finds her soon.

- He will, goodnight Marmee. - Goodnight, dear.

And remember what I said, Jo.

Mm-hmm.

The world seemed electric

as she reached the end of the lane.

She wasted not a glance at the gamekeeper

standing outside of his humble cottage.

She darted through the gate as Hugo

thundered to a stop and swept her into his arms.

And as he placed his lips on hers,

she remembered nothing but this moment.

Gosh, that's beautiful.

It's finished!

My masterwork.

Why am I having such trouble falling asleep?

Jo, are you awake?

Jo, may I come in?

It's Meg, where are you?

Jo, have you gone completely out of your mind?

I'm contemplating the moon.

It's beautiful.

Why don't you come out and join me, Meg?

No thank you, it's too cold.

You couldn't get to sleep either, huh?

I've just created a masterpiece

and sleeping is absolutely the last thing on my mind.

Can you imagine the feeling, Meg?

I'm afraid I can't, I've never written a masterpiece.

I know why you can't sleep.

Why?

It's simple to a trained observer of the human condition.

A trained observer, well, by all means, enlighten me.

As a matter of absolute fact, it's a question

of deductive reasoning, easily understandable.

I admit, I'm impressed.

Tell me, professor, what is my main problem?

Well, I'd say that you are in love.

Me, I'm what?

In love, it's simple.

No, I'm not.

Well of course you are, with Mr. John Brooke.

I don't believe a word of it.

What I really feel for John is just a great deal of respect.

I heard that when his father passed away,

John had to provide his own education

and he had to become a self-made man.

I knew it, you're in love.

Don't be silly, I'm not in love with him at all.

John is merely a good friend, that's all.

Well what would you want in a man then,

if you were in love?

Well let's see, I'd like him to be rich

so we could live in a fine house with servants.

And I would have beautiful dresses

and a liveried chauffer to drive my carriage.

And of course, we'd have lots of parties

and fancy-dress balls where we would dance the nights away.

And that's just for starters.

But the most important thing of all would be that

my husband would have to adore me above all other women.

Hmm, well that rich part does

put poor old John out of the running, doesn't it?

That ought to be obvious, Jo.

What's obvious is that I was right.

Huh?

You can't sleep because you planned on marrying

a rich man and fell in love with a poor man instead.

It's perfectly obvious.

I'm really glad that you came and asked me

to solve your romantic dilemma for you, Meg.

Still, it's a perfect shame about poor Mr. Brooke.

What do you mean?

Well it's only that he's so desperately

in love with you, it's a shame he can't have you.

You mean to tell me you didn't know?

Not for a minute, believe me.

You have only to gaze into his eyes.

I can tell that he longs to crush you to his breast.

You're a hopelessly romantic imbecile, Jo.

Is your insomnia cured?

It most certainly is.

Your romantic drivel has put me to sleep.

Good night.

Good morning.

Oh well, who expects gratitude?

Maybe I was too mean to Jo.

Jo, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to be so abrupt.

Huh, Josephine, where are you?

What are you doing down there?

My goodness.

I'm alright.

Only thing is, I don't think I'll be doing

much sitting for a few days.

Gotta hurry, I'm gonna be late.

Gangway, Milky Ann.

Looks like somebody's late again.

Come in.

I'm ready.

Oh Meg, will you help me, please?

What is it?

My hair has gotten so long it takes forever

to get the snarls brushed out in the mornings.

Well, would you like me to brush it out for you, Jo?

No, but if you like you could take my manuscript

and put it back into order for me,

because it got all scrambled up

when I fell of the roof last night.

Could you do that for me?

I'd really appreciate it if you could, Meg.

Well of course I will.

I'm going to submit it to the newspaper today.

Is your back feeling any better this morning?

It's still pretty sore.

I didn't know you were in the habit

of going in and out the window, Jo.

Well it's kind of fun.

Oh Jo, you're such a tomboy.

Yes, but boys do have more fun.

Oh, you're outrageous.

You know, your hair is so long and beautiful

I'd expect you to be, well, just a little bit more feminine.

Thanks a lot.

Page seven is missing.

Can't be.

I'm sorry, but it is missing.

It can't be, are you sure?

I double-checked, Jo, it's definitely not here.

I must've overlooked it

when I picked up the rest of the pages.

Is this yours, Jo?

I found it lying in the middle of the street.

Here Beth, let me see that.

It's page seven, Meg.

Good for you, Beth.

Beth, you saved my life.

Mr. Brooke's coming to see us.

I see him, so what?

Just look at the expression on his face.

Even from here I can tell that he's a man

driven by a violent inner need for love.

Oh, hogwash.

Good morning, Meg, you're looking radiant.

Good morning.

Good morning, Mr. Brooke, lovely day, isn't it?

Oh, good morning.

Mr. Brooke, you mustn't pay any attention to Meg.

Confidentially, I understand she had a very bad night,

but it's all worked out fine now.

Are you coming, Jo?

Well, gotta be going.

You see, it's just as I suspected all along.

What's that?

He's so desperate to see you that he comes by

the first thing in the morning.

He came by because Mr. Laurence is his employer.

Well why would he come four hours

early for Laurie's lessons?

Perhaps they've just started a different schedule.

- Not possible. - Why?

Because he's still watching us.

This is perfectly preposterous.

That may well be, but Meg, wouldn't it be fun

to sneak just one little peek backwards

to see if he's still standing

out there in front of our house?

I'm willing to bet he's still out there.

What a vulgar thing to suggest.

I'll bet you don't have the nerve to look.

How can you even mention it?

Well, because if you're positive

he's not posted in front of our house,

then there would be no harm in peeking back once.

I will not stoop to such a thing.

I'll close my eyes and count

to three and then we'll both turn.

Ready, one, two, three, go.

Well, have you got the nerve to turn around?

What did I say, told you so.

How old is Meg now?

Last April she turned 17, Auntie.

She still is much too young.

Huh?

Much too young, I tell you, and believe me, I should know.

If she marries a poor man, her whole life

will be spent in abject misery.

Stuff and nonsense anyway, all this marriage.

She says that the most important thing

she looks for in a man is that he have plenty of money.

Well that's encouraging.

I'm glad to see that one woman

in the March family has some sense.

I couldn't agree with you more, Auntie.

But Meg has fallen in love with a poor man.

John Brooke is as poor as a churchmouse.

That settles it then.

If any of you girls marry without my approval,

I shan't leave you a farthing in my will.

My family name will not be bandied about

in the parlors of the poor, on that point I am determined.

Suppose one of us doesn't get married at all?

- Like whom? - Like me.

Aren't you a little premature?

Tell me how old you'll be on your next birthday.

- 17. - That's much too early, Jo.

For what?

It's too early to make a decision,

whether to get married or not.

Now read to me, please.

It's rather late for you, isn't it, Auntie?

Late for what?

For the excitement of romantic literature

such as The Count of Monte Cristo.

It shouldn't even be considered at your age, Auntie.

Don't you be impertinent.

Besides, it's never too late for romance.

Now read Monte Cristo.

"Before Albert could throw his gloves

"in the face of the count, Morrel seized his hand.

"Beauchamp and Reanaud then held the other hand fast

"before he could free himself from Morrel's powerful grasp.

"Count Monte Cristo stretched his hand and grabbed

"the gloves from the convulsive fingers of Albert.

"He said in a terrifying voice,

"'I assume these were meant for me.

"'I'll soon return them, together with some bullets.

"'My vengeance will be all the sweeter by taking

"'the additional blood of this craven young upstart.'

"With that, he turned on his heel

"and strode quickly out of the ballroom."

This is one mighty fine-looking house.

I hope I got the right address.

Well, I guess the best thing to do

is just go up to the door and ask somebody.

"'Bring me the pistol with the ivory handle.

"'I wish to do some target shooting.

"'Perhaps I'll use that one

"'to deal with my young challenger.'

"The servant bowed, knowing that no one

"could challenge his master with pistols."

Sure do hope Miss Jo is here.

This could be mighty embarrassing if she's not.

"He held his gun in his right hand,

"and at the moment he aimed at the target,

"a servant came in, followed by a woman.

"She was heavily veiled and Edmond

"didn't recognize her at first.

"'Yes, Madame, ' he asked, 'what is it you want of me?'

"He peered sharply at her.

"The mysterious visitor, clasping her hands together,

"cried out in a despairing voice,

"'Edmond, please don't kill my son.'

"The count retreated with a startled expression

"and the gun dangled limply from his hand.

"'What was that you called me, Madame?'

"'It was your name I called, Edmond.'

"With that, she flung aside her veil

"and revealed herself to him.

"'Did you think that you could deceive me, Edmond?

"'I am probably the only one who could never forget.

"'And now you intend to commit murder on my son.'

"Recovering himself, the count gazed coldly at her.

"'What would you have me do, Madame?

"'He has challenged me.'"

What's wrong, why did you stop?

I thought you might be getting sleepy, Auntie.

Why that's absurd, why would I

be sleepy in the middle of the afternoon?

Well, my dear, you're the one who is sleepy.

I'm sorry, Auntie, I'm afraid

I didn't get enough sleep last night.

That will teach you to dream about romance.

Now read on, child.

Huh?

Don't break it down, come on in.

You know I don't like to disturbed when Jo is here.

This had better be important to cause this disturbance.

Well what's the matter, have you forgotten how to talk?

Ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt,

but there's a black man calling himself

John Murphy waiting at the front door.

Well what does he want?

Well, the man told me to tell you that he knows

Miss Josephine and that he's friend of the family.

Yes, I do know him.

How on earth?

Well, we found him hidden in our shed

in Pennsylvania because Confederate soldiers

were chasing him after he made a break for freedom.

So we sheltered him until the Confederates were driven out.

And then helped him to get away.

We sneaked him onto a train bound for safe territory

and that was the last we saw of him.

My goodness.

Miss Josephine, you remember me?

So you became a printer.

Mm-hmm, that's the way it happened, Miss Jo.

Seems like just because I could read,

this man I met in Philadelphia

gave me a good job in his print shop.

My job was picking up type for the boss printer

for whatever manuscripts come in.

Oh John, that's wonderful.

Everything's been breaking good

for me ever since you folks helped me.

Great, but what about your job?

My boss at the print shop retired and closed down

the business, so I guess I'm out of a job.

Anyway, I'm free to go anywhere I want

to look for another job.

And is that why you came to Newcord?

Well first, because I wanted to pay back the money

that your momma was kind enough to lend me.

And maybe there might be some kind of print shop

here that needs a man to help.

John, please sit down while we're talking.

I'm very good at picking type, Miss Josephine.

What is that?

Well, you just look at the manuscripts

and pick out the necessary types, don't you know?

Oh, so you're working with manuscripts.

Mm-hmm, hand-written manuscripts.

For instance, you might look at

a novel or a short story I'd written

and pick out the type they'd use to print it?

Mm-hmm, and the typesetter composes them

as the sentences run and he prints them on the paper.

Where have you been looking for a job?

I just got into Newcord today, Miss Jo.

Well have you got a place to stay yet?

The quarters at the Slavery Emancipation Society.

Are you in a hurry, John,

do you have anywhere to go right now?

I'd like to go visit your mother and pay back

the $20 that I borrowed from her.

You can go home with me, that'll work out fine.

I just have to stop at one place first, okay?

Yes'm.

If you young people have finished your conversation,

I'd like Jo to continue reading to me.

Oh Auntie, would it be alright with you if I finished

reading the book tomorrow instead of today?

But dear, we were interrupted

right at the most exciting part of the story.

Oh, but just think about it, Auntie March.

It'll be that much more exciting tomorrow.

Maybe it will be, but I'm not pleased.

Oh anyway, Auntie dear, I've got to

attend to my own novel today.

Heavens, that's right.

I have a budding novelist right in my family.

My latest novel may not win any literary prizes,

but I'm hoping at least somebody may buy it.

Well, I'll buy it for my own library.

That's not what I want.

What's the matter, my $2 isn't enough for you?

No sir, what you propose is the same thing

as asking me to accept charity.

I want you to publish it in your newspaper.

As you no doubt know, Jo, Anthony handles

all submissions to the literary department.

Even if I think your work is brilliant,

he has the final say about whether it gets published or not.

Anthony won't like this book.

He won't publish anything of mine.

I wouldn't say that.

I really don't know what he tells you, but to me he said,

"That Jo March has a lot of talent.

"She'll be a great writer someday."

I can't believe that he said that.

As the saying goes, "speak of the devil."

"And he shall appear."

You're looking at the brightest light

of the Newcord Times.

This is my friend, his name's John Murphy

and he's from Philadelphia.

This is Anthony Boone.

John Murphy, it's a pleasure.

Anthony reported your escape in the newspaper, John.

Of course, you're quite a celebrity.

You escaped from the Confederates, didn't you?

- Yes sir. - Good.

Here's Josephine's latest work.

You just might like it.

Yes, let me see that.

She writes well.

I'll read this tonight after work.

If you agree with my opinion,

I would like very much to publish this one.

I mentioned to her just before you came in

that you've been heaping praise on her recent work.

And I think that this story definitely

lives up to her standards, as you'll see.

Well have you made up your mind

to publish this one, Chief?

No, that is not without the express approval

of my literary expert-in-chief.

I just thought I'd state my opinion, that's all.

So it's up to me, huh?

I bow to his respect for talent.

Is this your final draft?

That's right.

Still, I'd better check it over

before we go ahead with it.

Oh Chief, if you wouldn't mind,

would it be alright if I ask you

for one more little tiny favor?

What now?

Do you suppose you could use

my friend John here at the newspaper?

He could be either a type picker or a typesetter.

Well, let me see.

John, would you be up to that kind of work?

Yes.

He's a good man, Chief.

And you've been saying you need another helper.

- Please, sir. - I know he'll work very hard.

- You won't be sorry. - You won't be sorry.

Mother will be excited to see you.

Well, what are you waiting for?

I've been waiting a long time

to return this, ma'am.

Thank you, John.

We're all very happy that you could come back to us.

Of course, none of us knew for certain

until that very moment, that John had made good his escape.

That had been a frightening time for all of us,

and I think we were all afraid he might've been recaptured.

But here he was, safe and sound

and making a fine life for himself.

Now if only Father would come home.

That's what we're all hoping for.

♪ Fortunes of war can change the way

♪ We imagine our lives will be

♪ The March family are on their way

♪ Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy