Gone with the Wind: A Film Review for Our Times

Set in Georgia, the film (and book) cover the American Civil War (1861-65) and the Reconstruction Era (1865-77) through the eyes of Scarlett O’Hara, the daughter of a wealthy plantation owner, following her as she grows and changes throughout the years.

The movie opens with the words, “There was a land of cavaliers and cotton fields called the Old South…here in this pretty world, gallantry took its last bow...” emblazoned across the screen in an elegant yet antiquated script. It sets the scene of the era, but it is nothing more than a nod to the glamourization and romanticization of what the ‘old south’ stood for.

And this is problematic in ways that are still pertinent to today’s cinema and television in that it reduces African Americans to roles of servitude and perpetuates stereotypes that have been ingrained in the culture throughout American history.

Let’s consider the following: the African American characters in the film, who are slaves, are unflatteringly depicted as loyal, docile, and attached to their white overseers. For example, Oscar Polk plays an unquestioning and faithful valet; Butterfly McQueen plays Prissy, represented as hysterical and dishonest. Though Hattie McDaniel was the first African American female to win an Oscar for her portrayal in the film--a historic moment for Black Americans, she could only receive this acknowledgment for a role that promoted her servitude and obedience. At this level, the movie is disturbing because it whitewashes the massive, crushing, and obscene reality of slavery, portraying the white overseers as “kind” and “decent” to those to whom they denied freedom and fundamental human rights.

This historical revisionism damages the film. At the same time, however, it is also interesting to compare and contrast this period with others in history where people profited off atrocities and injustices of the marginalized and oppressed.

That said, it is still hard to understand the film’s actual position. Because while it does give a voice to those opinions that existed (then and now) which defend the ways of a decadent ‘old south,’ it also dramatically changes tone in the second half, bringing about a sort of punishment to those characters that had for so long lived off of the death and torture of others. Each of the characters (overseers) falls victim to misery, madness, injury, and death that crosses generations. This could be interpreted as attempting to create a narrative of balance in an almost Biblical/Old Testament-y way.

Despite the massive problems stated above, the film displays certain elements which are hard to step away from and ignore (however, I am not separating the good from the bad, this film will hopefully continue to age worse and worse).

What stands out to me, and what I feel I need to acknowledge, is the character of Scarlett, keeping in mind that this should not be her story. And the fact that it is, unfortunately, speaks clearly to our society’s tendency to whitewash historical periods and events.

We follow Scarlett over the course of fifteen plus years, and in terms of femininity represented on screen, what we get to see is drastically different from most films produced at the time, and perhaps, still unrivaled to this day. Her character is extraordinarily crafted to fit all and zero archetypes at the same time. She is never trapped and never confined, heroine and anti-heroine at once. I switched between hating and loving her every ten minutes, in a good way. Scarlett captures the audience from the very first minute the camera’s gaze lands on her. She’s rosy-cheeked and flanked by two doting admirers. She continues to string us along throughout until the very last minute when we watch her dark silhouette standing starkly against the sunset as she grows more and more distant and the iconic orchestral theme sweeps across the landscape.

I think a significant part of Scarlett’s place in cinematic history is due to the excellent casting of Vivien Leigh, whose fascinating and heartbreaking life reveals a kindred spirit to that of Scarlett in more ways than one (even Scarlett’s description in the original book seems a word for word description of Leigh). Leigh immerses herself into the character and gradually exposes every facet of her complex identity and femininity, transforming and evolving before the audience’s eyes. Scarlett's character, as described in an article, was that of “daughter, sister, flirt, wife, midwife, mother, widow, nurse, killer, farmer, scavenger, business owner, socialite and — most importantly— survivor.” That gives you an idea of how much Leigh was able to say and show through her character, and how much she shined in comparison to the often flat and demeaning female characters in movies of the time. As I said before, the problem is that (historically) this is not Scarlett’s story; it should be instead that of Mammy, Pork, and Prissy.

As for Rhett Butler, I never really liked him (but then again I hardly liked any male characters in the film). But his character’s influence on cinema and storytelling is abundantly clear, paving the way for many more “wisecracking but reluctant American outlaw hero[es]” to come (Star Wars, Casablanca, Die Hard, etc.).

The production, artistic direction, and costumes are and will forever be gorgeous and overwhelming in a way that echoes the decadence of the story. I can’t help but be in awe of this film’s technical masterpiece and how things like costumes/prop/set design, score, etc., make this film a meaningful piece of visual and auditory art. There are at least ten shots I can think of that are absolutely unforgettable and monumental. Each costume is a masterpiece, accompanying every character throughout their arcs and acting as valuable markers of the passage of time: Scarlett’s early gowns are exquisite and explosive with childish frills, sporting the full hoop skirts and V-necklines of the 1860s, while the second half of the movie sees tighter, more vertical styles in richer and gaudier fabrics that reflect Scarlett and Rhett’s materialistic and baroque relationship.

After having seen the film several times and read sources about it over the years, I am finally able to gather my very scattered and contradictory thoughts about it: no, the (absurdly worded)“pretty world [...] of knights and their ladies fair” is not “gone with the wind”; It is not “no more than a dream remembered”... the cruelty and horrific remnants of that world are still with us today, spectres of humanity’s penchant for destruction and war, still affecting millions and millions of people and reincarnating into different versions of itself as history continues to repeat itself.

That being said, the movie does need to be seen, just as it needs to be criticized. It should definitely be discussed in more depth as a part of film history and American history in general but never excused, as I read once “Gone With the Wind tells us more about 1939 — and the years after — than about the 1860s.”