Several things spring to mind as I watch this movie during the 80th anniversary of its release: how fitting the title is, not just for the era it depicts but for the era in filmmaking when it was released; the irony that Melanie Hamilton Wilkes, the only main character who dies in the story, is portrayed by Olivia de Havilland, the one cast member still with us as I write, who will celebrate her 103rd birthday in a couple of months; the knowledge that this film will forever be the top box-office champion (adjusted for inflation) simply because we don’t go to movies the way people did in 1939; and even from that era, there isn’t a film with the magnitude of Gone with the Wind.

Let’s be clear, Gone with the Wind is pure fiction, which is its charm and its problem as time marches on. This is not a documentary about the Civil War any more than Braveheart is a factual record of William Wallace. The fleeting paradise of the Old South imagined here never existed. Instead, it is seen through the eyes of Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh), a plantation princess in her rose-colored castle full of ballgowns, chivalry, magnolia blossoms, and, yes … slaves. It’s for the best that her fairy tale is shattered after the first twenty minutes or so, when war is declared. Scarlett’s world begins to crumble, but her surroundings are secondary to a relentless pursuit of love and all its misguided, unfulfilled promises. Part romantic drama and part war movie, Gone with the Wind is successful on so many levels. It didn’t invent these ingredients, but it establishes a recipe for epic, romantic storytelling that is used to this day. The same ingredients should be studied like a blueprint and can be found in other Best Pictures such as Titanic, Ben-Hur, Gladiator, and Casablanca:

Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh) crosses over a mass of wounded soldiers.

Ingredient #1: Regardless of the earth-shattering circumstances, never leave your main characters in the dust. The Civil War serves only as a backdrop for Gone with the Wind and is not the primary story. Whenever historical upheaval dominates the screen, such as the iconic shot when the camera pulls back and we see a street filled with thousands of wounded soldiers, the focus remains on Scarlett in the center, as she steps over their bodies in search of Dr. Meade (Harry Davenport) and a way out of Atlanta. This is where films like Raintree County stumble. When war breaks out in that film, we sacrifice the leading characters to military developments.

Ingredient #2: At three hours and 58 minutes, the longest running-time for any Best Picture, Gone with the Wind keeps the pace moving. None of its scenes last more than a few minutes. Many are less. The dialogue is lean, a point is made, the impact felt, then the story moves on. No lingering shots with pensive faces of Scarlett or Rhett gazing through windows. Once we get a reaction or an emotion or a revelation, we are on to the next scene.

Ingredient #3: Our main couple doesn’t end up together. For whatever reason, human nature has us cherishing romantic stories without the anticipated union in the final act. Perhaps the magic of “what might have been” resonates far more within us than the reality of “what is.” This began long before Shakespeare’s plays and holds true for so many Oscar-winning films and nominated pictures.

Every aspect of this production is first rate, from the dazzling costumes (not yet recognized by the Academy with their own category) to the art direction, cinematography, editing, lighting, music, direction, screenplay, and use of color as a dramatic element. William Cameron Menzies, who served as production designer (a different distinction from the Academy’s competitive category for art director), received a special award for his efforts. Gone with the Wind was the first film shot in color to win the top prize, and rarely has color been used so successfully.

The acting is also impressive. Occasionally melodramatic yet always effective, it has stood the test of time with indelible performances from principals, supporting actors, and bit players alike. It’s hard to imagine anyone else inhabiting these iconic characters. As Scarlett, Vivien Leigh carries the film, and that’s no small achievement. Hers was the last leading role to be cast after a nationwide talent search, and she is on screen longer than any other Best Actress–winner in history. Many were tested, but in the end this relatively unknown but accomplished British actress and future wife of Laurence Olivier snagged the most coveted part in Hollywood. Clark Gable (starring in his third Best Picture here), Leslie Howard, and Olivia de Havilland all turn in fine work, but for my money it’s Hattie McDaniel who captivates, elevates, and dominates every scene she’s in. McDaniel was the first Black person to be nominated for an Oscar in any category, and she won, beating out co-star de Havilland as the Best Supporting Actress of 1939.

Oscar-winners Vivien Leigh (Scarlett) and Hattie McDaniel (Mammy).

While the achievements of Gone with the Wind and McDaniel’s performance in particular shatter established barriers in Hollywood, the film also serves to perpetuate stereotypes, myths, and racial inequality. It glamorizes the Old South and misrepresents one of America’s ugliest chapters in history in order to tell a tale of survival from a Southern belle’s perspective. For that reason, more than any other, this movie is not aging well. I was born in the early 1960s and first saw Gone with the Wind on the big screen as a child. It was an event like no other, and even at that tender age, I had no trouble sitting through a four-hour film, enthralled by its story. It held my attention and swept me away. I wasn’t aware of tensions as a result of seeing it. Those tensions go back to the year this film was released and long before, but they have escalated and grown over time. It wasn’t just the ’60s and the equal rights movement that altered perception. As a kid, I thought this was a movie everyone knew and loved. I discovered I was wrong, particularly about the latter … but I also learned that many of my non-White friends had never seen it and had no desire to.

It was frustrating to me at first. They were missing out on a game-changer with McDaniel’s breakthrough performance. Through the years, I began to realize that, while they acknowledge and respect her work, they would be too uncomfortable or upset to glean any enjoyment from sitting through the movie. I don’t mean to say that only people of color find objection to it. As my eyes have opened to the injustices, I see it as well. So do others. Times have changed, slowly but surely, and for the better. It’s not just the Old South that is a civilization “gone with the wind,” but an era in Hollywood when an award-winning actress couldn’t sit with her fellow cast members at the same banquet table in 1940, in order to accept her award. An era when mainstream movie fans embraced the thought of happy slaves, shuffling stereotypes, and genteel plantation-owners. That’s gone with the wind as well … as it should be.

Gone with the Wind