Gone with the Wind

“Yankees in Georgia! How did they ever get in?!” 

Perhaps writing about a movie as prolific as Gone with the Wind seems a bit superfluous, especially when written 70 years after the release, but with Max Steiner’s sweeping theme still echoing in my head how can I not at least touch on the anniversary of this film and my experience today seeing it at The Fox Theatre in Atlanta.

Robert Osborne, film guru of Turner Classic Movies, was there to greet us.  From the stage he spoke of the history and impact of Gone with the Wind as well as answered a few questions.  Our screening was sold out (over 4000 tickets) as well as the one that evening and Mr. Osborne told us he called Olivia de Havilland (“Melanie” who will be 93 this year) to tell her of the large turn out in Atlanta. She already knew, “My spies are everywhere,” she explained. She also sent her regards to all of us . This was quite special for some of us in the audience. As a long time admirer of Ms. de Havilland (the only surviving Gone with the Wind principle cast member) it’s quite touching to hear someone relay a message from her, even if it weren’t for me personally.

The film began and the audience went silent.  For the duration of the film, nearly four hours, an audience of over 4000 people sat in silent admiration.  Silent that is, except for laughter, and more than a few sniffs during “Melanie’s” death.  There were also a few moments when the audience spontaneously began to cheer and applaud.  The most memorable were the first time we see Mammie (Hattie McDaniel, the first African American to win an Oscar) and during the fabulous down-the-stairs dolly shot landing on Clark Gable’s amused smirk. Hello Rhett Butler. 

The 70^th Anniversary screening of Gone with the Wind was something to be treasured.  It was splendid to see Atlanta turn out to celebrate part of her own history as well as a fantastic film.  When there was any mention of Atlanta in the film, the audience appropriately cheered, laughed, or just seemed communally aware that we were watching our Atlanta.  Whether the history that impacted you was of the Civil War reflected on screen, or that of the 1930s when Gone with the Wind premiered and Clark Gable, Vivien Leigh, and the rest paraded down Peachtree Street in the midst of thousands of adoring fans. Gone with the Wind is tightly bound to Atlanta and her people.

The film opens with the narrator on screen addressing the audience directly. “This is a true story,” he tells us; a film based on a book about a young Georgia woman (“Eve”) who suffers from multiple personality disorder. Her psychiatrists, Drs., Corbett H. Thigpen and Hervey M. Cleckley, of the Medical College of Georgia, published The Three Faces of Eve in 1957, that same year the film was released.

Joanne Woodward’s performance was impressive, and one can understand why she won the Best Actress Oscar in 1958. Her change in tone, accent, and body language was quite convincing. The film’s structure however left something to be desired.  While one did become involved in Eve’s condition, the episodic nature of the film was negatively emphasized by constantly fading to black after every emotional moment.  Its tone was also confusing. It teetered unsteadily between near comedy and drama. Very little progress was made (or at least depicted) over the years that Eve was in counseling, therefore the key scene depicting her mental victory was somewhat anticlimactic.

The story was interesting and clearly established the difference in the personalities but one never felt very connected with any of them.  Part of the fault lies with the quick snippets of scenes (Eve Black in the back of a stranger’s car for example). Perhaps the point was never driven home, so the speak, because of scene length but quite possibly because of the Production Code which was still very much in control of content in 1957. How can we truly experience Eve White’s regret and horror over Eve Black’s sins if those sins are barely hinted at and certainly never shown?

Though the film shows Eve’s recovery, in truth, her story of struggle was not yet over. The real Eve, Chris Costner Sizemore, later in life wrote two books about her experience with, and treatment for, what is now known as “dissociative identity disorder.“  (First she had to sue 20^th Century Fox for the rights to her own story because her psychiatrists had previously signed them over to the studio.  She won the case.) In her books, she revealed that though she took a big step towards healing in the 1950s, in reality she was later treated by seven other doctors and experienced more than 20 personalities before eventually overcoming the illness in 1974.

 

Further Reading: http://www.georgiaencyclopedia.org