Cinematic museum piece, not masterpiece

Rating: Null/10 (24 August 2004)

This is a story by and mainly for women, in any case only women might be able to appreciate and understand Scarlett O'Hara's totally irrational behaviour (if anyone can, please explain it to me). Still, it's such a cinema milestone you have to see it. It's an attractive, fairly durable (and fairly endurable) movie - everything you'd expect from a classic Hollywood epic, though time has revealed some deep flaws in its construction.

On the positive side, there are some lush sets and rich colours, and the repeated use of silhouettes against a dramatic sky is very effective and memorable. The film also succeeds in making us think: what life was like in the heyday of the South; what the slaves made of it all; the utter waste of war (as always); how we would cope if our lives and homes were suddenly devastated. But unfortunately the film doesn't really want us to think, and scenes are hurried along presumably in order to squeeze in everyone's favourite episode from the book. There are some amusing moments, and some stirring moments - the story is clearly capable of arousing strong emotions, though this is mainly due to the numerous tragic deaths which are so liberally sprinkled throughout the film that we begin to feel distinctly manipulated.
This main failing of the film is that there is too much script. The dialogue is rapid fire and unnatural, it is often impossible to hear clearly what is being said. There is little in the way of dramatic silence and every action and emotion is represented or accompanied by an exhausting gush of Southern drawl. At times, such as when Prissy ascends the stairs with Melanie Hamilton, you can sense the actors' real exhaustion with the script.
As a result of the script, the acting is too stylized (nobody could speak those lines in a normal voice), and while this is no doubt intentional, subtlety and cinematic effect is sacrificed for an unsatisfying theatricality. In particular, Lesley Howard brings this film to its knees with a performance so wooden you can hear his legs creak, and the narrative slows perceptibly during his every scene. This is very disappointing, as Ashley could have been one of the more interesting and original characters in the story.
Originality is generally in short order. Margaret Mitchell's book may well have been a big success but is highly derivative of the feisty 19th century female literature of the South. There is nothing original in GTTW's story of rebellious womanhood, of urbane cads, or of chaps throwing their hats in the air at the prospect of going to war (dusted off yet again in `Cold Mountain'). This over-familiarity may tell on a sophisticated modern audience.
Vivien Leigh (who is rarely off-screen) is excellent, almost miraculous, but Scarlett is made to sustain a tone of coquettish petulance for the full duration, and Leigh has no opportunity to modulate dramatic key. The result is a monotonous and eventually annoying performance (not helped by Scarlett's irksome irrationality). Gable and the lovely Olivia de Havilland are also victims of one-dimensional characterization.
The power of the film rests largely on the more dismal aspects of the story, and in the end it is the dismal aspects that leave the lasting impression, leaving us feeling slightly ill-at-ease and unsatisfied - particularly concerning the behaviour of Scarlett.
To get this movie and its relative merits into perspective, compare Hollywood's facile treatment of another blockbuster novel `War and Peace' with the 1968 Russian version. Then consider again how different - and how much better - GWWT might have been.