GONE WITH THE WIND (1939)

Few films have ever been bigger than the classic Gone with the Wind. Still the highest-grossing film of all time (when adjusted for inflation, it has amassed a worldwide box-office record of roughly $4.3BN), this David O. Selznick production remains a romantic epic of unrivalled proportions, one as historically misleading as it is sumptuous. Many accusations have been levelled at this film, and it has garnered substantial controversy over the last 85 years. Yet, audiences continue to flock to see Gone with the Wind whenever it’s re-released in cinemas. The real question is: why?

There are any number of ways one could answer that question. However, the most obvious explanation is that it’s a classic romance tale, peppered with storylines replete with danger and adventure, and features compelling protagonists. Based on Margaret Mitchell’s novel of the same name, Gone with the Wind follows the times and trials of Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh), the somewhat impulsive and exceptionally determined oldest daughter of a Georgian plantation owner. Infatuated with Ashley Wilkes (Leslie Howard), despite the fact he’s already married to Melanie Hamilton (Olivia de Havilland), Scarlett is approached by the dashing, yet irreverent Rhett Butler (Clark Gable), who has the most terrible reputation…

All of this is set against the backdrop of heightening hostilities between the Union and the Confederacy. As the American Civil War encroaches, these romantic dalliances almost become of secondary importance as one country’s bloody history is placed at the forefront of our sweeping narrative. The book’s author has since stated that the story’s principal theme is that of survival, and in no other character than Scarlett is this theme made more obvious: she’s a born survivor, willing to fight tooth and nail for the means to thrive. This might mean marrying men she doesn’t care for, brandishing pistols at a moment’s notice, or travelling for miles across war-torn territory.

The first half of this lengthy, 238-minute epic has a primary focus on the war, with a shocking, unflinching look at the horrors one half of the country inflicted upon the other. The naïve, emboldened young men of Georgia are enthusiastic and primed for war, yet it’s Ashley who warns them of what’s to come: “Most of the miseries of the world were caused by wars. And when the wars were over, no one ever knew what they were about…”

These words are ironically prescient. Not so much because Ashley’s words foreshadow the inordinate waste and destruction achieved by such armed conflict, but due to the sheer number of falsehoods that have proliferated since 1865 surrounding the Civil War. This ugly and distasteful profusion of historical inaccuracies defines the Lost Cause of the Confederacy, a historical negationist myth that proclaims the war was fought over states’ rights, and not over slavery. Today, almost 160 years removed from the Confederacy’s surrender, there are some who still argue over what the largest conflict in American history was really all about.

It’s a myth that Gone with the Wind propagates. In only the opening credits, we’re struck by the startling intensity of Mitchell’s romanticisation, as the Old South is described in terms one might use to describe a fairytale kingdom: “There was a land of Cavaliers and Cotton Fields called the Old South… here in this pretty world, Gallantry took its last bow… here was the last ever to be seen of Knights and their Ladies Fair, of Master and of Slave… look for it only in books, for it is no more than a dream remembered. A Civilisation gone with the wind…”

And as these expository intertitles welcome us into this lost haven, we see a gallant white man astride a horse, hopping fences. We listen to the ‘h’ being pronounced in every what, where, and why, with the breathy delivery of Southern etiquette that the invading Yankees demonstrably lack. Additionally, white women live in total security and unabridged happiness, as slaves work contentedly around them. Mitchell’s story paints a vivid portrait of what was once a utopian society, built upon traditional ideals of honour, fortitude, and valour.

So, Gone with the Wind depicts an idealised, fictitious civilisation, one which has been swept up with time, and provides the indelible iconography for the collective imagination that drives historical revisionism. Much like in the justifiably maligned Birth of a Nation (1915), the Ku Klux Klan are depicted here as chivalrous knights (though we never see our heroes adorned in their white sheets, with the filmmakers being keen to downplay this aspect of the story, it’s far more explicit in the original novel). They are only shown wanting to protect the women of the South during the Reconstruction era, not perpetuate white supremacy.

It’s in such ‘political meetings’ that gallantry ostensibly took its last bow. Again, it’s doubly ironic that we’re told to find this ancient, moral civilisation in books, as any historian worth their salt could tell you that the American Civil War was fought over the issue of slavery. For this reason, Gone with the Wind may feel like a strained watch at times, as we’re more than aware only half the picture is being given, with even that half being doctored and distorted beyond recognition.

Still, by no means should this film be banned, nor censored. Parts of it are ugly, but so is the history it purports to depict: the fact it portrays this epoch unfaithfully is arguably historically valuable, as it reveals the pattern of racial prejudices that lingered in Hollywood and America long after the Civil War. When HBO removed the film from its streaming library in 2020, they were rightfully criticised, with the criticism being so unanimous that they reinstated it less than a month later. Because besides the fact that Gone with the Wind can serve as an edifying experience, allowing insight into the dangers of slipshod, racially-motivated myth-making, it’s an aesthetically stunning film.

Fleming’s Gone with the Wind is epic in every sense of the word. It’s a lavish period drama, ornately filmed and intelligently designed, with such a grandiose scope that one can’t help but be impressed. I only need to think of the wounded soldiers who are crammed in the church, or endlessly scattered as they lie dying in the railway yard, to be reminded of the colossal magnitude of the production. With a torn Confederate flag billowing in the wind, emblematic of an entire civilisation being violently torn asunder, Gone with the Wind isn’t a hulking behemoth of a film, but a delicately woven tapestry: personal lives and one country’s history become seamlessly intertwined.

Purely focusing on the visuals, the cinematography is superb; each scene looks like an oil painting. Ernest Haller’s work as director of photography reveals a studio system at the height of its powers. Swooping crane shots achieve a certain grace and majesty to match the film’s opulent setting and atmosphere. Moreover, the infamous shot of a burning building coming down (which was the first footage the production got for the film) never fails to stagger me.

Furthermore, the writing is captivating, regardless of the false history it promulgates. Even if it tends towards melodrama towards the end, with tragedy after tragedy attempting to eviscerate the viewer, the majority of the screenplay is phenomenally written. The badinage that takes place between Scarlett and Rhett is superlative, with many of these quips being instantly quotable, and continue to be amusing on repeat viewings.

Our two leads in Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable bring the material to life splendidly. Leigh’s incessant decrying of her scoundrel suitor—“Fiddle-dee-dee!”—and Gable’s self-satisfied rebukes of his beloved create a charming romance. That is, at least if you ignore the unfortunate depiction of marital rape, which is, of course, never presented as an issue. Still, their courtship remains entertaining viewing. As Scarlett attempts to get the attention of any and all men in her general vicinity, we’re instructed in dating rituals: pinching cheeks to ensure they’re red and flushed, inciting jealousy and competition amongst admirers, and maintaining a waistline of 18.5″ despite physiology, mortality, and common sense.

Meanwhile, Rhett succeeds as the ostracised, Byronic hero. As one of our first introductions to him reveals: “He has the most terrible reputation…” It’s immediately apparent that he lacks the commendable Southern etiquette that all Scarlett’s other suitors possess in spades, and we quickly learn he is, in no uncertain terms, a total rascal. A smuggler, blockade runner, and gambler, he’s no stranger to danger, which adds to his charm.

Of all the commendable performances, it’s perhaps Hattie McDaniel who delivers the best showing. She became the first African American to be nominated for, and the first to win, an Academy Award. Of course, the period in which this film was made becomes apparent: despite the acclaim her portrayal received, McDaniel was barred from attending the premiere as it took place in racially-segregated Atlanta.

And so, Hollywood’s greatest success also remains one of its most controversial. It’s undeniable that Gone with the Wind will forever have a place in the history books. As the first colour film to win Best Picture, and the longest film ever to snatch this coveted award (with that legacy unlikely ever to be threatened), it will be decorated with superlatives for another 85 years to come. However, as luxurious as the production and as resplendent as the picture may be, it’s a film that always elicits the odd grimace. Despite all the accolades, Gone with the Wind is not quite timeless. Instead, it was a product of its time, and remains a part of that delirious reverie, which hopefully will one day be swept away entirely.

USA | 1939 | 238 MINUTES | 1.33:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH

Cast & Crew

director: Victor Fleming.
writer: Sidney Howard (based on the novel by Margaret Mitchell).
starring: Clark Gable, Vivien Leigh, Leslie Howard & Olivia de Havilland.