Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Frankly My Dear I Don't Give A... BANG!!! Damn, You Shot Me!!!
Okay, so I spent yesterday ripping apart the Wizard of Oz. I managed to forget to mention the Wicked Witchs' recipe for Munchkin Pie though. Let's just say it involves lots and lots of crushed Munchkins.
Today I'll mention how much I dislike Gone With The Wind. Yes, the tale of Rhett and Scarlett, of Ashley and Melanie, and a house called Tara. A four hour ordeal that seems longer then the Civil War.
Oh, sure, it won lots of awards and acclaim, and the devotion of legions of fans. And I'm treading on dangerous ground by disliking it. Still, I dislike it, and for various reasons.
Where to begin? Oh, right. The stereotypical Old South romantic feel of the story. Sure, the old South was good and fine, and everyone loved things just as they were! Even the slaves! And those damned Yankees had to ruin it all!
Please! The movie casts the Union as a plague from the north, coming in and destroying this ideal society . It messes around with history (yes, I know movies do that, but me being a Civil War buff, I find this really annoying).
Oh, and let's get right to it. The central relationships in the story. Scarlett and Rhett, Ashley and Melanie, Scarlett and Ashley... well, you get the picture.
Scarlett spends years balancing Rhett, Ashley, and a few other guys in her life (it's been years since I've seen the film, and I'm not going to watch it again just to amuse you). Rhett and Ashley are the two primary guys (and what kind of name is Ashley anyway?) before finally getting to the point where she wants Rhett. By this point (years of Rhett's life and hours of our time) Rhett tells her he doesn't give a damn and walks out. It took him that long to see Miss O'Hara as the self absorbed shallow woman that she is? (At least a Scarlett I know doesn't behave like this one...)
He could have run off with Melanie! Or Mamie! Or just headed back north, because let's face it, Clark Gable was playing a Yankee. Or the most Yankee-accented Southerner of all time.
Anyway. It's an interminable drag of a film. It goes on. And on. And on some more. And when you think it'll never end, it goes on some more.
One redeeming quality though: the score. I happen to have the score on CD, and it's great music.