Gone with the Wind
Jeffrey Gantz
Some movies endure despite, or perhaps because of, their shortcomings. For all
that the American Film Institute has just named it the fourth greatest example
of American cinema (after Citizen Kane, Casablanca, and The
Godfather), Gone with the Wind is still looking for credible
characters (Scarlett most of all) and a believable plot (just for starters,
there's no way Scarlett's father would have let her marry Charles) -- and never
mind lines that should have won Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable Oscars for
delivering them with a straight face ("You should be kissed often, and by
someone who knows how"). The gift of better dialogue won't be forthcoming, but
for its almost-60th-birthday re-release GWTW is getting restored
Technicolor and digital sound -- no small thing for a movie whose greatness so
largely rests on how it looks and sounds. The restored Technicolor is not just
gorgeous but natural: the fields of Tara, far from being postcard perfect,
could use some rain, and the camera creates an almost three-dimensional realism
in the subtle way it blurs backgrounds. Yet there's no want of pyrotechnics in
the flames that consume Atlanta.
Besides, GWTW can be shocking as well as silly -- the sight of hundreds
of men laid out on the ground in neat rows after the siege of Atlanta, with
just a single doctor in attendance, is more horrific than ever. And the four
hours slip by pretty quickly. Scarlett and Rhett are messy, complicated
dreamers who never give up hope -- maybe that's why we never give up on them.
This is, after all the film that never ends: tomorrow is always another day.
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