"You're a heartless creature, but that's part of your charm"

Rating: 8/10 (24 March 2010)

Normally when a classic novel is adapted to the screen, the novel still remains definitive. Austen, Dickens, the Bronte sisters, Wells and Verne will always be what they are regardless of how many films are made of their work. Gone with the Wind is a rare exception – a best-selling and critically acclaimed book upon release, and yet the name and the story now belong firmly to the motion picture tradition.
When you look at Gone with the Wind, in particular its heroine Scarlett O'Hara, it's sometimes hard to fathom its appeal. It is essentially the story of bull-headed individualism in the face of social catastrophe. But if there was ever an attempt to make bull-headed individualism look romantic, this was it. Gone with the Wind is not, as so many film noirs of the next decade would be, a misogynist mope about the men ruined by such a self-centred woman, but neither is it a feminist glorification of the strong-willed woman. I think its impact lies in that it is really two stories – the tragic depiction of a vanishing way of life, told through the eyes of someone who cares only for herself. The one offsets the other, and gives the whole some kind of honesty.
After that, it all comes down to the gloss and polish of David O. Selznick's production. There's no shame in this, any more than there is in making a painting or piece of music a work of beauty, and besides Gone with the Wind is the kind of lily that can withstand a substantial amount of gilding. Probably the most special thing about the way the picture is done is its cinematography – an absolutely magnificent job by Ernest Haller and Ray Renehan. Painting is an apt metaphor here. The tones and compositions are reminiscent of fine artists such as Auguste Renoir (especially at the Twelve Oaks barbecue), with some nods here and there to Renaissance art as well. There is also some excellent use of silhouettes, creating those now-iconic images at key moments, and demonstrating just how much that errant lock of hair can add to Clark Gable's allure.
Which brings us onto the actors Despite the hoo-hah over casting, a lot of the performers were simply ticking boxes – Mr Gable and Hattie McDaniel in particular. But this does not diminish their efforts. McDaniel was always a talented actress, she just needed a role big enough to show it. Yes, she plays a stereotype, but the beauty of the performance is that she brings intelligence, wit and humanity to the surface through the stereotype. As for Ashley, I would prefer to have seen Melyvn Douglas in the role. Leslie Howard is a good actor but his physique is too willowy, and he is far too English. However, no-one could have guessed the British background of Vivien Leigh (except possibly Henry Higgins, but he's fictional). Her "southern belle" authenticity is quite incredible, given how rare it was back then for players to become so immersed in character, and also given that her normal speaking voice made the queen sound common. I would say though that purely as a performance it is merely good rather than outstanding. It is really just 95% sulks and hissy-fits, but she at least nails all the right emotions and even manages to make us sympathise with Scarlett.
Gone with the Wind was famously troubled by directors coming and going – which is always great for confounding the auteur theorists, not that many of them would touch this movie with a 10-foot pole in the first place. The thing is, it really doesn't harm the production. George Cukor and Victor Fleming may have been total opposites in personality (an urbane homosexual and a rugged outdoorsman), but their shooting styles were very similar. Both used a lot of movement, of the camera and within the frame, to give atmosphere and dynamism to the scene, and both gave their actors a lot of coaching. The difference with Fleming is that, despite being the ultimate man's man, probably had enough of the no-nonsense attitude to coax out the shrewishness in Scarlett. He certainly brings Scarlett's personality to the quality of the image, with the quick dolly-in that introduces her character, the general bustle in background and foreground, people walking and talking at the same time – all of which are Fleming trademarks. It's as if Scarlett's flighty, haughty, teenage persona has coloured the whole world around her, and it's a very effective way to open the movie, engaging us immediately.
The funny thing is, that despite it being a colossal cultural event in its time, and holding its box-office record for over thirty years, Gone with the Wind has since been surpassed in popularity by its contemporary The Wizard of Oz. And even though it is still a highly regarded classic, it is probably now remembered more than it is enjoyed. The truth is, Gone with the Wind was very much a wonder of its age – a work of unprecedented lavishness and a herald of maturity in the motion picture. Whereas The Wizard of Oz, Mr Smith Goes to Washington, Ninotchka and many other hits of 1939 were simply great pictures of their day which can speak to people of any place or time, Gone with the Wind was a great phenomenon which meant something to a generation, but is now just a pretty-looking melodrama.