Gone with the Wind

There are a few epics particularly in the romance department that I wished to analyze for some time. The 1939 epic Gone with the Wind is one of my top priorities.

Before this review, I've only seen the film at two different points in my life. When I was starting to get into classic films in Middle School, during a vacation in the Outer Banks in North Carolina, I found the movie for sale at a store. I heard nothing but wonderful things at the time, but hardly knew anything about it, except that it was a romance set during a war. My mom, who loved the movie, bought it for me, and I watched it with my family during the vacation. I was first amazed at how advanced the film looked for 1939 (unaware it came out the same year as The Wizard of Oz). Of the characters, the one who fascinated and entertained me the most was Clark Gable as Rhett Butler. The film was also more depressing than I anticipated, as it dealt with the horrors of war and a great number of deaths of characters I felt connected to. I never looked at horses the same way again when I saw how lethal they can be, especially to a child. A death that scarred me so much that I had to think the child reincarnated into another universe as the deer Fawn in Disney's Bambi (1942), given she's played by the same actress, Cammie King. It was a film that I found so powerful, entertaining, and visually incredible that I watched clips of it multiple times during the vacation.

Despite thoroughly enjoying the film, I did not see it again until 2020, during the infamous COVID lockdown. At the time, the film was receiving controversy for its Southern politics, which I heard little about after seeing the movie. At the time I first saw the movie, I knew nothing about the Civil War except that we fought each other in our own country. Even the political talks and texts flew over my head at that age. Revisiting the film with a more informed mindset, I cautiously turned it on and found new appreciation for it, while still discovering some of its problematic elements. After that viewing, I wanted to write a review, but decided to let the film sit with me, given that there's so much to unpack. After graduating from college and spending a few years adjusting to new jobs, I have finally regained the motivation to dissect the film. To objectively examine why it's such a celebrated movie and why it sparked controversy, and to express my opinions on whether I think it's worthy of the love and hate it gets. And keep in mind, there will be SPOILERS. 

Southern Belle and daughter of a plantation owner, Scarlett O'Hara (Vivien Leigh) is desperately in love with the handsome Ashley Wilkes (Leslie Howard), who is already engaged to marry his cousin (we'll talk about that later), Melanie (Olivia de Havilland). While trying to win his heart, Scarlett tries to survive the Civil War and rebuild her life during the Reconstruction Period. Along the way, she keeps encountering the charming yet cynical Rhett Butler (Clark Gable), who aids her and tries to win her affection. The two eventually marry, but Scarlett is still set on Ashley, which angers Rhett and causes a dysfunctional marriage.

Given the current knowledge that the film had 3 directors with different perspectives and 15 screenwriters, it's amazing that it turned out the way it did! I never would have guessed that the script went through so many rewrites, or that more than one director took control. Everything looks and feels cohesive. For a film that nearly runs for 4 hours, hardly anything feels padded out or overlong. It moves at a swift pace but not so rushed that one doesn't have time to sync with the atmosphere and emotions. The film feels a little slower once the war is over, as it focuses more on Rhett and Scarlett's marriage, but it does not bore or feel as drawn out as one might think. I'm quite impressed how entertaining the film is, as it offers the right amount of drama, sentiment, humor, and action.

Another reason the film entertains so much is how ahead-of-its-time the filmmaking is. It is one of the first major films shot in three-strip Technicolor, and the color looks breathtakingly gorgeous, as does the film's epic scale. The sweeping cinematography, the costumes, set designs, matte paintings, and the dramatic use and contrast of light and shadows are absolutely stunning to look at. Right when the film's majestic title swishes across the screen against a lovely sunset, you know it's going to be a visual treat. There are many striking scenes and sequences the film offers, including the silhouettes of characters in front of a sunset, an incredible crane shot pulling back to reveal thousands of wounded soldiers (half of them are dummies, moved by the actors), and the long tracking shot of Melanie and Mammy walking up the stairs. The film's absolute visual showstopper is the famous "Burning of Atlanta scene" that offers excitement, tension, danger, and sadness, with intense red and orange colors, actual burning of backlot sets (including the gate in King Kong (1933)) with stunt actors, and combining the special effects footage with the actual actors. I will say that the use of projector screens is the only real dated effect, but it is not distracting enough to ruin the film's artistic beauty. 

Unlike many films in the 30s that played things safe, this one takes a few extra edges that would normally trouble the censors. Some things had to remain implicit (which I will also cover later), but the content they showed on-screen was very taboo for the time. The famous line from Rhett, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn," was not the first time the word damn was used in film. But during the Hays Code era, it wasn't exactly common in Hollywood, and making that the final line of the one main character definitely made the scene dramatic and, at the same time, shocking for the time. I was more stunned by how the deaths are presented in this movie. When Scarlett shoots an intruding Yankee soldier in the face, although it's in a less than two-second shot, we see his face covered in blood. Knowing that, at this point, the 30s were largely against showing blood, I couldn't believe I was seeing it in a film this old. But I was more traumatized by seeing little Bonnie's death when she breaks her neck after trying to make a horse jump, as well as seeing her corpse in the funeral scene. To kill off a child in a movie was indeed one of the many restrictions that the Hays Code suggested not being shown in a movie.

With its outstanding visuals, the film's epic feel is significantly enhanced by Max Steiner's score. Max Steiner, both before and after the film, has contributed his musical talents greatly to films including King Kong, Casablanca (1942), The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948), House of Wax (1953), and The Searchers (1956), and his score in Gone with the Wind may as well be his most impactful. I always find myself pulled in by its Overture and feeling the film's grandeur when I hear the famous "Tara Theme." It's one of the greatest scores I've ever heard that's so emotionally powerful, whether for dread, suspense, tenderness, or even irony, that it does not feel overwhelmingly forced or distracting. For the most part, it flows with the story, visuals, and acting. And the acting is just as strong! Regardless of how one may feel about the characters, there's no denying that the performances are more than above average for 1930s acting. Everyone is extremely passionate in their roles, bringing much more personality than one would expect in a Hollywood epic of that time. Everyone is perfectly

 believable, selling every scene they're in.

When you consider how phenomenal and emotionally moving the acting, score, and filmmaking techniques are, it's easy to understand why film critics and casual viewers consider this one of the greatest movies of all time! A film so masterfully crafted that it's easy to forget that it came out in the 30s. A movie that's so skilled at delivering big with its emotional appeal that it's no wonder why (particularly white audiences) ignore or don't think about the problems with the characters or Southern narrative. And that's what this review is about—looking past the elements that made us admire how huge it is and taking a closer look at its portrayal of characters and the South.

The character that people will tell you is either one of the strongest female protagonists of all time or one of the worst characters ever is Scarlett O'Hara. The people who despise her will claim that she's a whiny, self-absorbed brat who manipulates people to get what she wants. And those claims are incredibly accurate. Scarlett is a pathetic woman who dramatically complains and cries for a great portion of the film over the person she desires like a spoiled child. She even marries multiple men out of spite towards Ashley or for financial gain. And she can at times be incredibly violent when in a state of frustration. To claim that she's a likable character is completely untrue. And that's not an opinion; it's by design. The film explicitly makes her out to be a cunning narcissist to the point where all the characters call her out on it. And she even knows for a good portion of the time that she's acting selfishly, right down to pretending to cry and feel guilty and stop for a brief second to look at the person's reaction before going on with the charade. Just because she's meant to be unlikable doesn't automatically make her any less insufferable to those who hate her. I certainly have seen films, shows, and plays where a protagonist who's supposed to be a jerk has gone under my skin (recently, Marty Supreme). And the people who find her annoying, even though they know the character is written the way she is, are not uncalled for. The constant whining, her stubborn blindness to the person who genuinely loves her, and the heartless way she uses and treats people are valid reasons to despise her, especially when she serves as a main character.

What I look for in unlikable protagonists is two things. Relatability or a fascinating character study, and Scarlett certainly has both those qualities. While meant to be a self-indulgent person, in her first scene, as Southerners are excited to fight the Yankees in the upcoming war, Scarlett is one of the few who's not excited for it. That does not mean she is dignified for thinking so; if anything, she's more annoyed by the constant political talk than by not wanting one due to the lives that will be lost. And for someone who has a deep affection for Ashley, she sure does not mind flirting with two men as they gaze at her beauty. Regardless, the scene does show that Scarlett is not a supporter of the war, even if those reasons are more about her. The point at which Scarlett becomes one of the strongest female characters in film is when the war takes its toll. With Ashley away in the war, despite how much she hates his wife Melanie, she keeps her promise to take care of her and the baby with full determination. Down to the point of helping Melanie deliver the baby when no one else can and finding Rhett to aid them out of a soon-to-be war zone. When returning home from the chaos to find it in ruins, with little food, money, and possessions stolen, rather than breaking down, giving up, and losing hope, she vows she'll survive this and "never go hungry again." And she delivers on that promise, as she takes control of the house, helps pick cotton with the family, and fights off anyone who invades her home, even by murdering a Union soldier. As the film progresses, up until she marries Rhett, Scarlett will, by any means necessary, lie and cheat, never to go back to where she once was, and she succeeds. Her inspiring journey to survive one of the harshest wars of all time and keep pushing forward, rather than looking back, no matter how distasteful her means are, still makes her situation relatable and casts her as an anti-hero. And every step of the way, you always see her struggling to remain headstrong as she watches people all around her die and her world literally fall apart, making her successes feel like victories, if not earned morally.

Scarlett is almost everything the South wasn't when it came to moving on after the war, at least when rebuilding a new way of life. But like how the South unhealthily held onto old ideologies that are now lost (for good reason), Scarlett does so by losing Ashley, who's an idealized conservative relic of the old South. He's the only thing she looks back on and can't move away from. And by constantly trying to gain something she'll never have, she becomes just as harmful and reckless as the other people in the South after the war. She ignores or hardly appreciates the man she has and the new life she worked for because of the heartbreak of not having the person she desires, causing her marriage and new life to collapse around her once again. Even when stripping away the parallels to the Civil War, many of us have at one point been so destroyed and consumed by heartbreak that we, too, overlook the wonderful things around us and cater to an unhealthy mentality that hurts ourselves or those around us, further prompting the viewer to identify with Scarlett. Scarlett is a flawed and nasty character who is easy to dislike. Still, her undying resilience in the face of death contrasts with her inability to let old romantic feelings go presents a fascinating, tragic character, with Vivien Leigh giving a powerhouse performance that's at times very Shakespearean. It serves as a cautionary reminder that you can be tough and resourceful but still let an unhealthy obsession destroy you as harshly as the world around you.

Part of what makes the characters so intriguing is comparing and contrasting them. I know and hear from many people who absolutely adore Melanie. And I certainly was one of them upon my second viewing. Unlike Scarlett, she's not narcissistic, doesn't use people, and has a sweet, innocent personality who usually aims to see the good in others. But as wholesome as she is, while nicer than Scarlett, she's not exactly the strongest character in the story. She's very passive and naive, and usually comes across as the damsel in distress. Scarlett shares her naivety about blind love, but at least she remains strong when the going gets tough and tries to find new ways to move forward. The only helpful thing that Melanie thinks of at a time of crisis is burying a dead Yankee body after Scarlett murders him. Other than that, she's a traditional Southern Belle who will uphold outdated Southern traditions, especially when it's in Ashley's favor. Both Melanie and Scarlett are flawed characters, and if one were to combine Melanie's kindness and unselfish behavior (for the most part) with Scarlett's brains and strength, we could've had the ultimate female protagonist. And that's not a bad thing that they're not one character, because their different ideologies make for an effective relationship, with each character having their own set of pros to learn from the others and cons that keep them apart.

Another pair of characters who are equally fascinating to compare are Rhett and Ashley. Before the war, Ashley was the dashing Southern cavalier who held traditional values. And yet, after the war, he loses all those ideals because the old ways of the South have vanished along with it. Many can easily view Ashley stripped from his way of life as the film's attempt to sympathize with the "lost cause narrative" of the South. It definitely seems like it (especially with Leslie Howard's glamorous performance), but when you really pay attention to his character, he's actually more pathetic than Scarlett. When seen as an "upstanding gentleman of the South," he will, before, during, and after the war, keep leading Scarlett on about his feelings for her, because he loves her intense passions. To him, the true attraction for his love for Melanie is that they're blood-related, which you'd think the film would be condoning incest, when you see how he's shot, acted, and lit. But when you hear the sad score accompanying this almost "self-parody" claim, the drama plays more for Scarlett's sympathy as opposed to sounding on the side of Ashley. And once the war ends, despite Ashley showing grief over killing other people, for choosing to rebuild the past, he becomes hypocritical and self-delusional instead of coming across as a man with morals and truth. The man will falsely state that Scarlett forcing prisoners to do hard labor work without pay is way worse than how they treated the slaves. He even said after losing the war that he was thinking of freeing his slaves, when that most likely was something that never crossed his mind before or during. His refusal to move forward, with his charming personality nearly gone, and the lies he inflicts upon others and himself show that he is far from a stable suitor for Scarlett.

Rhett Butler, however, offers more promise to Scarlett's future as a suitor than Ashley. As Ashley chooses to live in the past and under the illusion that the South can take down the Union and rise after the war, Rhett is a realist. He knows the North is better equipped than the South, and looks to the future for prosperity rather than believing the old ways of the South will return. As Scarlett goes about the film for personal gain, Rhett is not too different. At first glance, he may appear as a noble, handsome gentleman of the South, but he too is selfish and cares little about the war (only for him to join the Confederacy when it's certain they will lose). Still, he is a sharp, witty survivor who is a little more confident in his actions than Scarlett is. In fact, he is so confident in himself, he'll openly admit his selfish intentions, feelings, and information people don't want to hear, including to Scarlett. As Scarlett lies and cheats to people while masquerading her intentions, hardly any of that fools Rhett, who will bluntly and mockingly call out Scarlett's actions. That does not make him any more dignified than her, but the two are so much alike in their self-centered attitudes and their ability to survive that Rhett is a more fitting husband than the delusional Ashley. Beyond that, Rhett does fall for Scarlett, showing her absolute love and affection, and does not mislead her as Ashley would.

The two marry for different reasons. In Rhett's case, it's for love, by helping sell the idea that marriage is more for fun, whereas Scarlett's is more for getting rich. At this point, the film begins to show Rhett's uglier side. Unable to win Scarlett's love over Ashley, no matter how devoted a husband and father he is, he resorts to drinking, behaving angrily, and acting violent towards her. And when he's with his daughter Bonnie, he'll spoil her with love, attention, trips, and gifts since he cannot give that kind of love to his own wife, which ends tragically for the child. The worst thing Rhett does that has received controversy in recent years is raping Scarlett. An iconic image from the film that can be shown in montages, film books, and even on the poster is Rhett carrying Scarlett in his arms as he descends a staircase, which is usually shown as a romantic moment, which can't be any further from the truth when seen in the film's actual context. While a short scene and an often-memorable misrepresented image, it's still played out as an intense moment, with dark lighting, hellish red staircase, dramatic acting, and ominous score. Given how irrational, unlikable, and immoral these characters are (especially Rhett at this point in the film), this didn't come across as out of character or as a needlessly sick action for its own sake. It made sense. I'd be more upset if this were supposed to be a romantic moment, with the "Tara Theme" playing in the background. The real problem I have is seeing Scarlett giddily happy the next morning after getting violated. That is definitely something I can understand people having a problem with. Expecting to see Rhett rewarded for this, despite Scarlett's happiness, he doesn't. He's disgusted with what he did, going as far as to offer a divorce, and rather than stick around, he decides to go on vacation with Bonnie. Nothing about this act brings these characters any closer together; therefore, it does not condone Rhett's actions. However, Scarlett's satisfaction makes this scene dated, even with the consequences that follow.

Of all characters, the one who gets the most mixed opinions (arguably more than Scarlett) is the slave Mammy. But before I talk about her and other controversial subjects, I should talk a little bit about the mindset behind making the film. There appears to be a common misconception that Gone with the Wind faced no controversy and that people complaining about it now can't accept it as a product of its time. In fact, there was controversy, and it began before filming started. Black organizations, including the NAACP led by Walter White, were not too keen on seeing a major motion picture adapt a novel that glorifies the South during slavery and sympathizes with them when it's gone, while having harmful, demeaning, stereotypical black characters. It seemed like Hollywood was going to make another film as hatefully racist as The Birth of a Nation (1915). And with the former film receiving so much controversy for a forward racist narrative as well as inspiring a resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan, the black community refused for Gone with the Wind to repeat the same mistake Hollywood had made. Due to the massive number of concerns, the film's producer David O. Selznick aimed not to make the film another Birth of a Nation type of movie, wishing not to offend Black audiences. At the request of the NAACP, Selznick removed a portion from the book with the KKK rescuing Scarlett from former slaves and avoided using the N-word. While trying to please black audiences, the film still faced protests and picketing by the black community and civil rights groups in major cities upon its release. So, in essence, the things people complain about and find problematic in the film today were indeed voiced at the time.

Moving back to the character Mammy, she is the most sensible of all the characters in this film. Every major character I pointed out is either delusional, selfish, weak, self-destructive, or a combination of them. Mammy is the strict voice of reason. A person whom the characters don't want to hear from, but she'll blurt out what she's thinking despite her status as a slave. She's always on to Scarlett's inner motives and will hit her with the reality to shut her up and get her to behave. Scarlett may still get away with her crimes; however, that does not change the fact that Mammy does not stand up to her. And given her position as a slave, that takes some serious courage and strength. To have a black character not be passive, let alone serve as the wisest and most good-hearted character in the movie, was indeed rarely depicted in cinema. And for Hattie McDaniel, giving such a lively performance, backed by a script that gives her as many layers as the characters, helped her win the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress, making her the first black actress to receive an Academy Award. Too bad the Academy had to segregate her during the ceremony, nor was she allowed to attend the premiere in Atlanta, Georgia.

All the praise I give to the character and performance does not mean there still aren't some problematic elements. The most obvious is that she serves as the Mammy stereotype. Yes, she condemns Scarlett's actions and is incredibly brave to do so, given what she could lose, but at the end of the day, her purpose is to serve the rich white family as a motherly figure (even more motherly than Scarlett's mom). Of course, she has no choice due to her enslavement, and while standing up to Scarlett, it's rarely ever for her own benefit, more so for her master. And what's even worse is that Mammy does have the capabilities of breaking away from enslavement, for how perfect they make her. Hell, she's so smart and fearless that she could either be running the plantation like Stephen in Django Unchained (2012) or start a revolution to free the slaves from it. But instead, she'd rather stay with the family, even during hard times, or after the abolition of slavery. On the one hand, given that she was forced and probably brainwashed into serving the family, with nowhere else to go, and given that Scarlett can offer her a prosperous life after the war, it does seem logical in this character's case. But yet again, given how more than capable Mammy is portrayed, it still poses as a problem for her not to go above and beyond. Because of McDaniel's popularity as the character (especially with an award in her hand), it only helped perpetuate the mammy archetype and keep it in media. It's no wonder why the NAACP would refer to McDaniel as an Uncle Tom. And McDaniel would continue to be typecast in these roles (including Disney's Song of the South (1946)). Despite the backlash, McDaniel would defend herself by saying, "Why should I complain about making $7,000 playing a maid? If I didn't, I'd be making $7 a week actually being one."

I do agree with the problematic nature of the character and performance that people tend to have. With that said, I still enjoy McDaniel's performance and the way the character is made a little stronger than the black characters people were used to at the time, despite respectfully posing a problem in itself. Compared to the other black characters in this movie (and the characters overall), she comes across as the most dignified. For all the praise and controversy McDaniel has faced in the role, the rest of the black characters are exactly how you would picture slaves being portrayed in the 30s. They're dimwitted mainly for comedic purposes and humbly serve their master, even when freed. Big Sam happily accepts his enslavement, whereas Pork is a slow, unintelligent buffoon.

Meanwhile, Prissy is an irresponsible liar who speaks in a loud, squeaky voice. In contrast to Hattie McDaniel's feelings about being typecast in servant roles, Butterfly McQueen, who played Prissy, actually quit film acting in 1947 due to her frustration with constantly being cast in demeaning roles. That sadly wouldn't last long, as she would later play a stereotyped character on the TV show Beulah. I won't judge Hattie McDaniel harshly on what she had to do to survive in bigoted times, but I have to give McQueen credit for attempting to break free. And, to her credit, in Gone with the Wind, she's the second-closest black character to have a bit more dimension, as she struggles emotionally more than any of the other slaves in this movie. If given the right material, I can see this woman doing a good job in a drama that touches upon the evils of slavery, for how raw her performance feels on a few occasions.

And let's get to a problem that's arguably bigger than the stereotypical black characters: the portrayal, or more appropriately, the lack of portrayal of slavery. Now, to the film's credit, unlike a later film like Song of the South, which completely ignores the politics of the South, this film does address that slavery was without question a major part of their way of life. In fact, the film even states that the cause of the war was a matter of slavery, something a story about the "Lost Cause" won't dare to confess fully. I won't act like I'm an expert on Civil War history. Still, with the moral of slavery serving as a significant conflict between the North and South, with the South wanting to maintain it, no matter how hard you try to make light of it or claim the cause was more than that, slavery was still an inhuman, monstrous part of American history. You can try to make up any excuse you want, but that does not at all change the plain and simple fact that slaves had no rights, no freedoms, no say, and were used as their master saw fit—one of the very examples of inequality. And in the film's case, as much as it admits the Old South was built on slavery, it does not at all show the reality of it. With black people getting poorly treated through whipping, separation of families, and pouring their blood, sweat, and tears for no pay, this film shows none of that. We see them work merrily in beautiful fields, look happily content with living as slaves, and get along well with their master as if they were family. Seriously, in one scene of the movie's opening credits, slaves are working in a gorgeous sunset field as the majestic theme song plays with a credit reading "Margaret Mitchell's Story of the Old South." You can't get any clearer in making light of slavery than this, and that's the second image!

I mentioned that Ashley makes the false statement that they didn't treat slaves like prisoners with hard labor; still, given how we never see the hardships of slavery in the film, the film does look to support that claim. The closest we get to any slave brutality is when Scarlett slaps Prissy when she confesses to knowing "nothing about birthin' babies." However, given that the slap is from Scarlett, who hits anyone (including her own sister) when in a heat of passion, it could easily be seen as another moment of Scarlett lashing out irrationally. If you knew nothing about the history of the South and just went off of what the film tells you, even when knowing slavery is wrong, you'd think the South was a complete paradise even for the optimistic and faithful slaves. And when the war does take its toll, you too would cry about how this way of life is history after seeing the thousands of casualties who suffered by trying to keep what they consider their ideal way of life alive. And don't take my word for it, the film's opening crawl reads, "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 Civilization gone with the wind." And to further make the Confederates seem sadder in this narrative is by portraying the Yankees with no humanity regardless their cause for the war, and having them be thieves, murderers, and perverts who trash the South for their own merriment and personal benefits.

On the surface, the film does appear guilty of enforcing its "Lost Cause" narrative, and while it ignores the cruelty of slavery and glamorizes the South in its tone, the film does challenge the South's politics. The majority of characters being intentionally mean, unpleasant, and crazy for their backward views is a grand part of that. But other scenes and elements debunk the South's nobility and innocence. Before the war, as lovely as the South may appear, the residents are just as unlikable as the protagonists. The majority of them are enthralled and eager for war to keep slavery, who even shame Ashley for hoping for no war, and are too arrogant to believe in the statistics of ever losing. They don't consider if their lives will be at risk, or who they have to kill to keep slaves as their own property; if anything, they think war is the most exciting thing ever to happen. It's not uncommon in an anti-war film to have naive civilians embrace war only to learn the harsh truth. But instead of wanting to do it anxiously due to misleading propaganda corrupting their minds, the only things that fool them are their own selfish, irrational pride, making them appear not as blameless as one would think. 

There are scenes where some of the characters defend their way of slavery, but you'll notice that the characters defending it are already far gone by the point in the film. Ashley, I've noted many times, but another character similar to Ashley is Scarlett's father, Gerald O'Hara. Like all the Southern men itching to pull the trigger, Gerald is no different. And like Ashley, when the old Southern way of life vanishes, he too acts just as feeble and mad. When he sees how harshly Scarlett treats the slaves, he tells her to be firm but gentle with them. This should suggest that the film is defending the notion that slavery in the South wasn't so bad, but we get something very telling about Gerald in that scene. Since we're under the impression that the slaves are treated like family, Gerald does not refer to them as such. He explicitly calls them inferiors and refers to them by a racial slur that is not the N-word but close to it. Despite his demand to be a little kinder to slaves, it is clear he does not think of them highly or as personable in the slightest. And when placing Ashley's weak argument of saying slavery was better than how Scarlett treats prisoners like slaves, along with scenes like a disgusted southern woman comparing a women auction to a slave auction or Scarlett and his sisters forced to brutally pick-cotton themselves, and Rhett serving as a rational man calling out on the South's nonsense, keeps the film from fully supporting the "lost cause" narrative. Furthermore, when looking back at the film's opening crawl that allegedly romanticizes the Old South, and getting to know the characters, it sounds less like something the lead characters, Scarlett or Rhett, would suggest and more like something the warmongering, illusory men of the South would say.

Now does the film still want us to sympathize with the South, when they're suffering from the war? Yes, it explicitly does so. The scene everyone will point out and claim that the film is meant for you to respect the South's lost efforts is the image of a torn and tattered Confederate flag waving in honor of the brave men who fought and died in the war. And as incredibly impressive as the scene is constructed, it is an image that a "Lost Cause" sympathizer would point to. But let's not forget that the characters, while terrible people, are still designed to be relatable. And in terms of war scenes, since the film has spent a good chunk of its time criticizing the South and subtly and unsubtly mocking them, it is only natural to show their humane side when affected by the war. Scenes such as people receiving the list of men who had died during the war, wounded soldiers crying in pain or dying, whether in a hospital with limited supplies or on the street, or witnessing the wreckage of homes and towns are sad scenes to see. But not in terms that make the film want us to believe in and feel sorry for their cause, but rather by offering a different perspective on the war to show how badly it affected the opposing side as well. And to have the typical noble Union portrayed as gung-ho, violent soldiers makes as much sense as showing that even the side that won the war can be as savage as the enemy. Do I think the film handles the idea that war is hell, no matter what side you're on, the best? Well, believe it or not, I think westerns such as The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (1966) and The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976) handled this message better. 

There's plenty of evidence in the film that it's not as pro-Confederate as one might believe, but a few major problems still make it debatable. No matter how much you're paying attention to the story, characters, and details, for a casual viewer (especially one who has limited knowledge of Civil War history and slavery), due to the tone, it does in execution come across as a romanticized tragic tale of a bygone era you're supposed to miss and sympathize with the characters for it, regardless of the film's real intentions. Most of the details I have pointed out to defend against some of the film's problematic elements still share one problem: they're implicit. And when addressing such a controversial subject in American history, if a film truly does not want to cater to the "Lost Cause" myth, it is best to be a little more explicit (if not preachy) about what it intends to say rather than hint at it. Simply ignoring the brutal reality of slavery deprives the viewer of feeling an authentic complex relationship to the characters and the South. And that's not only part of the film that it tiptoes around. The film does not include the scene in which the KKK rescues Scarlett, but it does include indirect references to the characters being part of the KKK. Instead of the film showing or saying that Ashley and a few other men are attending a KKK meeting, it has instead been switched to a "political meeting" where they (off-screen) attack the shantytown full of poor white and black people that Scarlett was attacked in. If you knew nothing about the history, you'd think this is a senseless act of vigilantism. But if you knew history or the book, you'd realize these insane characters are part of an infamous terrorist organization strictly against black folks. The decision to change it to a "political meeting" was made to avoid coming across as a scene from The Birth of a Nation that would offend Black audiences and to avoid making the makers feel the need to explain further why the characters would join the organization. However, that poses another problem. If the characters aren't meant to be ideal characters in the first place, then why hide the cruelty that actually happened in the South? If anything, it would make them twice as compelling and our relationship with them more conflicting. If you're not going to follow something through completely and make it trivial, why have it at all? 

Do I think Gone with the Wind is problematic, indeed. But not so much what it says, more so what it's hesitant to say fully. Had the film had less of a giant sympathetic nostalgic tone of the old South, been more explicit in condemning the Confederacy while still tying into the horrors of war, and not omitted or hinted at important details at the risk of making the characters too unlikable, aside from the black stereotypes and a few scenes, the film would be less of a controversial topic. But because of its choices, I'm afraid the debate about the film's ethics will keep sparking conversations for a very long time. While definitely flawed, I still do consider it a masterpiece in filmmaking, as well as a very compelling story and moving experience filled with so many layers of details to analyze. I wouldn't consider Gone with the Wind a conventional romance; more of a dramatic tragedy set against a Civil War backdrop, using romantic tropes to convey its cautionary message: don't cling to a long-gone past. If anything, the stubbornness to let go of old lovers or values once considered traditional will only consume you and lead you to overlook the real benefits right in front of you. It will also severely blind you to the fact that what you love and remember wasn't as healthy as you recall, or that there was nothing there in the first place. A powerful message that could be executed a little better but still stands tall and, on this viewing, personally touched me. I won't blame those who are still upset about the movie's ethics, nor do I understand people getting annoyed with the characters, as there is some merit to the complaints. But I'll never agree with banning it. To look at it as a perfect film that's untouchable to criticism or to despise the film to the point where labeling people who enjoy it as racist and insensitive are not sides I fully agree with. I believe the film should be both praised and criticized, which will offer a broader perspective and allow us to learn about the pros and cons of the past and compare them to where we are now. If you're even remotely curious to see it or rewatch it, I definitely recommend it so you can think for yourself. Out of the films released in 1939, as extraordinarily grand as the film is, there is a film that may not have won the award for Best Picture, but is equally impressive, deep, and more timeless that takes place "somewhere over the rainbow."