Gone With the Wind (1939): Eitan's Take

Our last film of the 1930’s is also the best. I entered Gone With the Wind a rueful skeptic, and I feel utterly transformed and thoroughly impressed after having basked in its glory. Granted, I hadn’t seen it in a very long time (and I doubt that I have ever seen it in full), but I am just in complete awe at how much I was missing out on by denying myself the chance to see it all these years. If there was ever a movie that deserved to be nearly four hours long, it’s this one. Directed by Victor Fleming, who just so happened to direct this film back to back with, uh, none other than The Wizard of Oz, the film is magnificent and transfixing. The first half, swathed in red skies and silhouettes, is a great war tragedy, and the second half, adorned with ribbons and bows and an underlying sense of grief, is a magnificent (if not really that accurate) exploration of Reconstruction. Of course, I would appreciate a film that focused on the politics of the Civil War (and hopefully there will be one soon), but GWTW hits all the right notes with its completely engrossing depiction of the bland chivalry, outdated attitudes, and self-obsession of the Confederate South. Scene after scene of drumbeating, rushed pre-war romance, and the casualties of battle suck you in completely and refuse to let go. Elegant, swooping camera shots, pained closeups, and technically perfect wide shots of train-stations-turned-hospitals rival anything revolutionary in Citizen Kane, which most people view as the all-powerful origin of modern filmmaking techniques. Show me a great modern movie that didn’t cop a shot or a delivery from Gone With the Wind and I’ll show you a movie lacking heart and reverence toward cinema history.

Much has been said in the past 70 years about the masterful elements of this movie, and I won’t rehash them all here. I won’t even go into the sordid details of the love quadrangle of Rhett, Scarlett, Ashley, and Melanie. All I can touch on here is my utter fascination with how extravagant and successful the sweep of the story is, on a larger socio-historical level, and on a personal level. Gable and Leigh are simply phenomenal, bringing to their roles experience, big egos, and a hint of both inner anguish and sexual one-upmanship. Hattie McDaniel deservedly won an Oscar for a role that could have gone thankless and unnoticed; every time she appeared on screen, I was bowled over by the vigor and consistency of her performance. She doesn’t bring anything particularly exciting to the role. She just does it really, really well.

Most of all, though, I’m impressed by Fleming (as well as some stand-in directors who did some work when he collapsed from exhaustion), who surprisingly remains pretty obscure to this day. His eye for detail amidst extravagance is intimidating, and unmatched by any modern director. Shots of Atlanta burning, of Rhett carrying Scarlett up the giant red staircase, of Scarlett standing against a blood-red sky proclaiming her vow to never go hungry again… these truly stand the test of time, and completely earn the movie its license to immortality. I stubbornly expected a soap-opera, but I got a masterpiece instead. I will be re-examining this film — a four hour film I could easily see myself delving into again — in the years to come. 10/10