A universal masterpiece and one of the few privileged films where every scene is a classic on its own ...

Rating: 10/10 (19 March 2012)

For some nostalgic dreamers, "Gone With the Wind" is a glorious swan song depicting the fall of the South during a devastating Civil War, and its reconstruction on the ashes of the Old Order, a Civilization forever "gone with the wind". It's the adaptation of Margaret Mitchell's epic tale written in bold letters with this peculiar ability to portray the Yankees as the 'bad guys', so common in the stories related by Southerners, as they invite us to understand their idealism if not to root for it: a vision of Gallantry and Old European Nobility where women were courted, wives were submissive to their husbands and slaves treated with paternalism.
But for some idealistic spirits, "Gone With the Wind" resonates as one of the most heart-breaking pages of American History, when the North fought the South in the name of Liberty, Freedom and Justice, and when History, written by the victorious side, ultimately showed the Confederate as the 'ones who were wrong'. "Gone With the Wind" chronicles what the South used to be, a world where coexisted two cultures, the Whites and the Colored. And the depiction of the slaves oscillates between the high pitched voice of the simple-minded Prissy (Butterfly McQueen) who knew nothing about "birthin' babies" and the wisdom and authority of Mammy, Hattie McDaniel in her Oscar-winning role: two figures, two extremes, so rooted in our hearts it's impossible to dislike them, despite the obvious stereotypes.
For literate minds, History is only the setting while the film is an incredible achievement in storytelling, inviting us to follow a gallery of magnificent and appealing characters during a slice of life, where the passing of time can be felt, when History affects story with mercy or ruthlessness... sometimes tragic, sometimes ironic. It's a narrative whose emotional core is the heroine Scarlett O'Hara (Vivien Leigh), whose heart belongs to the charming blonde Ashley Wilkes (Leslie Howard), married to the gentle and extremely good-hearted cousin Melanie Hamilton (Olivia de Havilland). A triangular love that sets the personality of Scarlett as a remarkable anti-heroine: selfish, greedy, jealous, but so brave, courageous and generous when the circumstances of War forever changed the face of the South. A great soul that could only be revealed by a great opportunity, a pivotal metamorphosis incarnated by the iconic "As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again".
The fascinating aspect of Scarlett's personality is that her flaws elevated her above all the other characters: she doesn't care for etiquette, for traditions, her spirit is free, her ego is big and her heart so vulnerable. While the South is definitely turned to the past, Scarlett thinks of the future, as she says: "after all, tomorrow is another day". Scarlett is a modern figure and that's what makes her so appealing both in the film and to the audience. And Rhett Butler, Clark Gable in his most defining role as 'the visitor from Charleston', is Scarlet's perfect match. Both don't belong to that era, they think of money, greed, prosperity, and passion. They embody all the values that America would stand for, transcending the old-fashioned setting of the South. But like the South's enthusiasm for War, the same pride that drives their passion would ruin their relationships.
For many passionate hearts, this is one of the most intense romances ever adapted to the big screen, a frustrating and seemingly impossible love between two strong-minded egos, two faces staring at each other as if they were at the verge of an irresistible passion or about to fight each other. As Scarlett was visibly jealous of Melanie when she went to bed with Ashley, the movie makes you penetrate the soul of these characters with such intensity you could feel she wished that Melanie could die. A childish and immature attitude, probably shared with Butler who wouldn't have minded if Ashley could die in the War, too. The love between Rhett and Scarlett is made of the same idealism that built the South myth, a lost but so endearing cause, a fire that burnt inside, and made pretty fitting that the most intimate and sensual moment they had was under the orange sky, during Atlanta's big fire.
Love has never been as passionate as a love-and-hate relationship and never seemed a romance so comparable to a lost cause, mirroring the Southerners' very faith in victory. Rhett's last stand when he takes Scarlett up the stairs in the 'one night she wouldn't turn him out' is the perfect illustration of a love that pumped its energy from hate and anger. As Scarlett, lost in her love for Ashley, will never realize that her man is Rhett... and when she does, Rhett is already fed up and finally delivers the most unforgettable come-uppance ever: "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn" before disappearing in a foggy mist. Scarlett gets a magnificent lesson about life, and wouldn't have been as likable without this last slap in the face. This "I don't give a damn" voted #1 in the American Film Institute's Top 100 Movie quotes was Rhett's revenge, and he sure deserved it... and many wannabe-Scarlett would admit that too.
But while "Gone With the Wind" deals with lost causes, it's more than anything the triumph of Cinema as the most defining Art of the last century. Echoing the novel's status as a best- seller, it's one of the greatest films of all time, the greatest casting ever, the greatest score and the greatest challenge for superlatives. Victor Fleming's super-production that would become a landmark in film-making, with its unique visual style and beautiful cinematography in colors, forever incarnated by Scarlett's shadowy silhouette standing beside a tree, during a beautiful sunset. Along with "The Wizard of Oz", and "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington", "Gone With the Wind" is probably Hollywood's Golden Age reaching its pinnacle before the War would come in 1939 .