Trickiest part is keeping the scrambled storyline/timeline straight; the film hops around instantaneously, so it's hard to know whether one is in the past, present, or future. Kinda frustrating, even infuriating, so I eventually wound up throwing my arms high in the air and just rolling with it.
In the end, it doesn't really matter, does it? No, it does not.
The greatest sacrilege is the complete and utter absence of any factoids whatsoever at the end. Guess you gotta read Wiki afterward to see why any of this matters much, if at all.
As you may (or may not) remember from high school English or Literature, author Louisa May Alcott led a really fascinating life, about 90% of which is excluded from this latest film adaptation. So many fascinating events and people interwoven throughout her short 55 years; far too many to account for in two hours, and that's a shame. Given the current #metoo #timesupnow enlightenment surge, a thoughtful and thorough Ken Burns-like biopic-miniseries based on her life feels apropos and overdue.
For you cinephiles out there, TWELVE Little Women miniseries have been created (2017, 1998, 1987, 1981, 1979, 1978, 1970, 1962, 1959, 1958, 1955, and 1950-1951), but, as yet, scant dedication to its creator, much less anything approaching "the definitive biopic of L.M. Alcott: seamstress, governess, teacher, novelist, poet, transcendentalist, feminist, abolitionist/Underground Railroad stationmaster, and student (and family friend) of Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Margaret Fuller, and Julia Ward Howe."
If you create it, you better believe I'll adore it.