I often feel a little self conscious admitting that one of my favorite films of all time is Gone With The Wind. Of course I realize the portrayal of the Black actors was demeaning, but maybe it’s because having read the Pulitzer Prize-winning Margaret Mitchell novel, I knew how integral and influential and beloved the matriarch, Hattie McDaniel’s Mammy really was. Also, I fell immediately in love with the exquisite, plotting, and stunning Vivian Leigh, and equally as in love with the virile, sexy and uber-masculine Clark Gable.
And just to keep it real, it’s incredibly important to look back on the portrayal of African Americans in Hollywood film, analyze and accept it as part of our American history. To shun it or try to erase it from memory is to deny where we come from and what harsh stereotypes once shaped not only our view of race, but also our behavior and attitudes. It is critical that we remember even the more difficult to swallow iconic images such as the indelible creation of the character Mammy, as well as the woman who bravely played her, Hattie McDaniel, and the cross she had to bear in doing so.
Not only was my bewilderment around the “shuck and jive” depictions of Black characters a point of fascination, but also how it was framed amidst the old Hollywood epic excess that Victor Fleming and David Selznick employed, literally setting the studio lot on fire for the burning of Atlanta scene that drew me in. Up to that point, GWTW was the longest sound film ever produced, topping out at 3 hours and 44 minutes, plus an intermission! In 1939, long before later epics of that magnitude like Lawrence of Arabia, Dr. Zhivago, and much later Braveheart, Dances with Wolves, or Avatar, they pushed creatively and certainly financially to film lovers’ eternal gain. Truthfully, Victor and David were the real predecessors in whose footsteps directors like James Cameron aspire to fill. But at the time, industry folks and movie-goers simply assumed the GWTW producers were crazy in their budget-busting spending spree (this could have been a 1939 version of Waterworld if the level of talent on and off screen hadn’t been so exquisite)!
But back to my obsession with the film itself, it may have been the fact that I knew Vivian would eventually be diagnosed with bipolar disorder much later in life that I searched her face and performance for any sign of early symptoms. Maybe it was because I knew she beat the odds of being cast, the only Brit to audition for the role, beating out Paulette Goddard (a huge star at the time), and so many other better known actresses, and at the time was merely known as Olivier’s mistress. Maybe it was how she simply became Scarlett, just like she became Blanche Dubois so convincingly 12 years later, that in even later years she had a hard time discerning own identity with the characters she once played.
But the bottom line is that she still soaks up the screen and dominates every scene, her sequences with her male counterparts are delicious – as she flirts with Leslie Howard’s poor put-upon Ashley and then meets her match in Gable’s unbridled Rhett. But the real interplay is her scenes with Hattie, who knows her better than anyone.
Of course the historic event of Hattie McDaniel as the first Black actor or actress to win an Oscar, as best supporting actress, is truly bittersweet. Hattie received a lot of flak from the Black community for playing Mammy, ostracized as a “sell-out” not only for playing Mammy, but for her acceptance speech in which she said she hoped to be “a credit to her race”. That speech was written for her by the Selznick organization, and when she read it, she was being the consummate actress she always was: reading lines that were given to her. In fact, Hattie was invited to the Oscar ceremony but was not seated at the Selznick table with the rest of the cast; she was seated at a small table in the back.
But it is important to recognize her and her counterpart Butterfly McQueen for their courage and grace under fire, and their pioneer status that blazed a new trail for Black actors and actresses. For pushing forward even under demeaning circumstances to set important precedence for those that came decades later.
GWTW won 10 Oscars in 1939, a record that stood for 2 decades. With incredibly astute, touching and often comedic performances by fellow cast mates Olivia de Havilland, Leslie Howard, Thomas Mitchell and of course Vivian and Clark, plus the sweepingly gorgeous music by Max Steiner, you simply cannot hate on this classic.
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