“There was once 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 so begins Gone With the Wind, the 1939 classic that has been at the center of a lot of recent controversy. After the terrible events in Charleston, the Lost Cause narrative and Neo-Confederates have been at the center of the cultural discussion. I could rehash it, but I think my colleague (and road trip buddy) John Price, handled it best. Price has been working the interview circuit for the last few days, especially after his piece was featured on the Huffington Post, and his grasp on the folklore angle is something I will leave to him. However, he also inspired this article.
Yesterday, he apologized to me for how hard he was on Gone With the Wind, knowing that I’m a fan of the film and book. I told him there was really no need. However, being a fan of a problematic text like GWTW is, well, problematic. I know the narrative behind it, but I just can’t help loving it for other reasons. It’s the same feeling one gets when “Blurred Lines” comes on at a wedding. You know what the song is really about, but gosh darn it, it is so catchy.
I first read Gone With the Wind in the 8th grade. I schlepped it around for pretty much the entire year, since its a pretty long book for the average 13 year old. I finally finished it in the spring of that year. I told myself that I wouldn’t watch the movie until I finished the book, and so my entire family sat down to watch all four hours of it. I was in love. From the sweeping opening credits to the final scene as Scarlett throws herself onto the steps of her home and proclaims “tomorrow is another day,” I was hooked. I was Scarlett for Halloween. I have numerous GWTW Christmas ornaments, a Scarlett Barbie doll, multiple editions of the book and movie, and even a musical jewelry box. Not one piece of my memorabilia has the Confederate flag on it.
![IMG_0103](https://theladyamericanist.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/img_0103.jpg?w=225&h=300)
Yep, I have an ornament that commemorates the destruction of Atlanta by Sherman’s army.
My sister’s favorite movie growing up was the 1939 film that often got caught in GWTW‘s shadow, The Wizard of Oz. Today we think of it as a classic, but it really didn’t earn that status until the 1950s when it was shown on television each year. That tradition made it an American institution. 1939 was filled to the gills with now-classic films: Ninotchka, Stagecoach, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Good-bye Mr. Chips, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Dark Victory, just to name a few. 10 movies were nominated for Best Picture. Why does GWTW stand out?
Culturally, a lot of it has to do with the hype leading up to the movie. The book, which came out in 1936, is still one of the best selling books of all time. For a more contemporary comparison, consider the excitement leading up to the Harry Potter or Hunger Games films. The search for the perfect Scarlett O’Hara was national news, and it was so thorough that they began principal photography without having yet chosen an actress. Vivien Leigh was cast on the night that they filmed the burning of Atlanta with a stunt double. It starred one of the most bankable actors of the time (Clark Gable), and many of the other supporting characters were brought to life by the best character actors of the day. Thomas Mitchell, the man who plays Gerald O’Hara, was in three other movies that year, and they were all nominated for Best Picture (Stagecoach, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, and The Hunchback of Notre Dame). He is perhaps best known as “Uncle Billy” in It’s a Wonderful Life.
Technologically, GWTW was a feat as well. David O. Selznick, the film’s producer, used all 7 Technicolor cameras available at the time. Color films had only hit the mainstream in 1935, and even then, the technology was expensive and used only on grand epics that would recoup the money. The Wizard of Oz is also known for its use of color, and while Dorothy might have glimpsed the world of color in Oz, Scarlett could exist in no other realm. The book is full of references to color, especially regarding Scarlett’s looks and dresses. Most in the book are green (reportedly Mitchell’s favorite color), but the film mixed it up in order to highlight the technology.
Aside from the film world, 1939 was a year of transition for the United States. The Depression was finally showing signs of relief (although that wouldn’t really happen until World War II), the war in Europe escalated into a full blown official conflict, and television was introduced to the American public at the World’s Fair. Change was coming, and when that occurs, Americans tend to cling to more “traditional” myths, symbols, and traditions. When the concept of “America” or “American” is in flux or in question, we try to answer with tropes rather than with true introspection. The Lost Cause narrative is just that: a myth. It’s a way to explain ones heritage in a country that is only now entering its teenage years.
The other article that inspired my response was that of Lou Lumenick, a film critic for The New York Post, entitled “‘Gone With the Wind’ should go the way of the Confederate Flag.” Alright, Lou. First, most film scholars would not put GWTW at the top of their lists. It’s usually towards the top, but seldom is it the #1 pick. If it is, it’s usually in reference to just romantic films. Few film classes show it (partly because of its length), but also because there are so many movies out there that it can be easily set aside for something else. I’m not even linking to the article because I get the feeling that the author is not a terribly deep film critic.
The core of this problem is the call to ban ideas. Banning books and movies is a slippery slope. Who gets to decide what we ban? If we ban GWTW, we are also banning the performance that earned Hattie McDaniel her Oscar. For the unfamiliar, Hattie McDaniel is the first African American to win an acting Oscar. Her performance as “Mammy,” is complex and moving. The part is stereotypical. We don’t even get to know her name (it’s not Mammy; get real). She was an excellent character actor who spent her entire life playing maids and slaves. When she won, the studio required that she read an acceptance speech that had been written for her. The other black characters in the movie are all slaves or ex-slaves, and their names are all descriptive rather than their actual names, such as “Prissy” and “Big Sam.”
If we ban GWTW, we ban the opportunity to have the tough conversations about the South during the Civil War and Reconstruction. When Scarlett’s second husband, Frank, is killed, it is while he is on a poorly-disguised Klan venture to take out the blacks that accosted Scarlett earlier in the day. Never mind that Big Sam is the one who saved Scarlett. The movie is an excellent spring board for all sorts of discussions about racism in the 19th and 20th centuries. The book and movie are products of their own time as well of the Civil War era. It’s the same reason we don’t ban Birth of a Nation or Song of the South. Both allow film and cultural scholars to glimpse a certain time. In the case of Song of the South, Disney did its own “self-censorship,” and the film is unavailable in the United States for purchase. They appropriate the non-offensive aspects (Brer Rabbit and his gang) for Splash Mountain, but you aren’t going to find any of the live action parts of the movie anywhere. No one is saying that they are “the best films,” but they facilitate discussion.
The discussion about the Confederate flag is long overdue. It shouldn’t be displayed on state grounds. The South lost. If someone chooses to display it on their property, I’m going to judge them. It’s their right, and its my right. Romanticize it all you want, but the flag has always stood for the oppression of blacks. I even have documentation, thanks to Larry Wilmore at The Nightly Show:
“its corner- stone rests upon the great truth, that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery — subordination to the superior race — is his natural and normal condition.”
This quote is from Confederate Vice President Alexander Stephen’s “Corner Stone Speech,” in which he lays out the values of the CSA. After the war, the flag wasn’t flown regularly until the 1950s and 1960s when some felt that their “traditional” values were being threatened by the advancement of black civil rights. In other countries, especially in Europe where the swastika is banned, they use the Confederate flag as a stand-in.
To conclude, it’s hard to be a GWTW fan these days. And that’s good. For me, the film was always about the tumultuous romance between Rhett Butler (the only voice of reason in the movie) and Scarlett O’Hara. She’s not a likable character, which always signaled to me that her values were not in line with my own. The journey through the book for me was important intellectually. It was a book that challenged me on every level. Seeing the movie opened up a world of classic film that I had not experienced before, and it lead me to my less-controversial favorites, such as The Philadelphia Story, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?, and Annie Hall. In that way, Gone With the Wind was important to me in that it lead me to my professional calling. For others, it comes from the tradition of watching the film every year during the holidays on television. Film is complex, and its ideas are not one-dimensional.
This post has been a few days in the making. Getting it all down has been a little crazy-making. I probably have a lot more to say. So, to quote Scarlett: “I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow.”
– The Lady Americanist.
P.S.: If this wasn’t enough Gone With the Wind for you, here is one of my first posts on this blog, which centered on the book and movie as pivotal texts in American studies.