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Gallantry and Gumption: Scarlett O’Hara

Broken by the War but Rebuilt Stronger and More Enlightened than Ever — the Complex Character of Scarlett O'Hara

By Fern WigfieldPublished 7 years ago 7 min read
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Gone with the Wind is a film many know of but few have seen. Its running time of just under four hours discourages many, as does the controversial setting of a pre-Emancipation Proclamation United States, and the fact that it is now over seven decades old. But if one overlooks these perceived flaws and sets aside 238 minutes of their time to watch Victor Fleming’s masterpiece, they will find an epic story of love, loss, passion, pride, and — above all else — resilience. This theme of resilience finds its home in the character of Scarlett O’Hara, the narrative’s protagonist and possibly one of the most iconic characters in American cinema.

First and foremost, Scarlett is a bitch. Though she is the protagonist, she is highly unlikable; she is spoilt, entitled, rude, and selfish. Her ladylike charm, beauty, and 17 inch waist make her the perfect Southern belle, wilting in the heat as she deliberates which of her many suitors to marry. However, this is a far cry from the Scarlett at the novel’s end, and it is her journey from a silly 16 year old girl to a strong 28 year old woman that makes her so fascinating.

The importance of establishing Scarlett as a frivolous, stroppy young girl at the film’s opening makes it all the more devastating when she is ripped from this life. Scarlett is very much naive to the real troubles of the world, considering only that which affects her society lifestyle: even the threat of imminent war is only ever relevant to her when considering her next party —

"War, war war…it’s positively ruined every party this spring! I’m so sick of all this talk about war I could scream!"

We are shown that Scarlett is made for this way of life; she looks the way a lady should, she knows just how to flirt with the right men to get what she wants, and she appears at home in the lavish full-skirted gowns. However, it is implied straight away that Scarlett is simply playing up to this image. She feigns foolishness to play up to what she thinks men want, despite the fact that she is in fact highly intelligent — this sentiment is echoed by Marilyn Monroe’s character Lorelei Lee in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes who says "I can be smart when it’s important, but most men don’t like it." Scarlett does not exhibit her intelligence in the film’s first act because it isn’t yet important for her to. In fact, this is the sad irony of Scarlett’s story — she uses her intelligence to figure out that she can get what she wants by hiding her intelligence, and instead uses her aesthetic charms to manipulate men into doing her bidding. Had the war not happened, it is likely that Scarlett would have lived out the life seemingly destined for her: marry someone of her own class, have lots of children, raise them to be Southern lords and ladies. Scarlett may not have been happy with this life, but she would not have been unhappy either. Ignorance would have been bliss and, having not known anything different, she would not have looked further than Tara to find happiness.

The American Civil War changes everything for Scarlett. Historically, of course, it altered the entirety of how the United States was structured, as well as reforming nationwide slave laws and starting a new era of American civilization. Gone with the Wind's Southern setting tells of a brutal side to the war, the story of the side that lost and therefore was changed forever, and it is this desolation of Southern life that acts as a catalyst for Scarlett’s transformation. The war does not allow Scarlett to continue her comfortable way of life. The imminent defeat of the Confederate army leaves Scarlett alone in Atlanta with her heavily pregnant sister-in-law Melanie, and when she goes into labour, Scarlett is forced to take action and deliver the baby herself. Once forced out of her comfort zone, she finds herself truly capable of things she would never have dreamt of before the war — the once entirely selfish Scarlett is made to be selfless in order to survive. The destruction of her society lifestyle forces Scarlett to gain some gumption and learn to survive in impossible circumstances. In the closing scene of Act Two, Scarlett delivers an empowering monologue in which she vows to never suffer again. With her mother and husband Charles now dead, her father incompetent and her home of Tara pillaged, Scarlett has no one to lean on but herself. This is her turning point, when she could have easily admitted defeat in the face of impossible odds, but she refuses to do so. It is from this point onwards that Scarlett truly begins her growth into who she was meant to be.

In order to persist post-war, Scarlett must forgo the ladylike qualities that once defined who she was. She becomes disheveled and dirty, the sole provider for those on whom she once depended. She picks cotton in the fields alongside her former slaves in order to rebuild her former life, but this humbling experience forms the truth that she can never return to that life, not really. And Scarlett wouldn’t want to now; she has found a strength within herself that she never thought possible without a husband, and with this shrewd nature she works to renew Tara’s former glory.

Scarlett’s relationships with the male characters of Gone with the Wind are complex. While she exhibits great capability alone, she remains limited. When faced with money troubles after the war, Scarlett once again displays great intelligence by resorting to the skills she had so carefully honed during her days as a Southern belle, namely, her prowess in flirtation. She marries her sister’s fiancé in a move that can be viewed as both selfish and selfless. This is, of course, cruel to her sister who truly loved Frank, but is ultimately in her favor. In marrying Frank, Scarlett gains his wealth and is able to keep Tara at the level to which she had recovered it. It is a shrewd move but one that only further displays her rationality for success.

And then there is Rhett Butler. The character who uttered the immortal line “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn” has a wholly complex relationship with Gone with the Wind's heroine. Rhett is similar to Scarlett in a number of ways: he goes after what he wants, will shirk tradition if he feels it necessary and does not take defeat lightly. He encourages Scarlett’s growth and sees her potential even before she recognises it herself, and it is this innate understanding of who Scarlett truly is that is both the making and breaking of them as a couple.

Scarlett marries three times throughout Gone with the Wind, and yet none of these marriages is to the man whom she truly admires: Ashley Wilkes. Ashley represents the Old South, a nostalgia for the days of debutantes and society galas. Scarlett’s consistent pining over Ashley can be read as her mourning the life she once thought she’d have. Ashley’s rejection of Scarlett also acts as a rude awakening for her; for once, she hasn’t gotten her own way, so of course she’s going to obsess over the fact. In contrast, Rhett’s daring attitude and scandalous nature pushes boundaries, and therefore represents the future. Scarlett’s realisation that it is truly Rhett she loves comes all too late, and yet this is the final push that transforms her into a fully fledged heroine.

When Rhett leaves her at the end of the film, Scarlett is heartbroken but not defeated. This is a woman who has faced starvation, poverty and death — a man leaving her will not break her. As Rhett walks away from Scarlett forever, she lifts her tear-stricken face and utters a line that confirms her strength — "After all, tomorrow is another day!" All of Scarlett’s hardships have forced her to look to the future, to always look forward, because there is nothing left for her in the past. Scarlett is bratty, unlikable, and problematic, but she is also determined, resilient, and courageous. She is thrown from the life she knew and is forced to get used to reality. She takes on burdens she never dreamed of and in doing so breaks the mould set for her by previous generations. Scarlett’s story is to an extent an allegory for America, broken by the war but rebuilt stronger and more enlightened than ever — she is by no means perfect by the story’s end, but her ability to grow only speaks to her character. It is Scarlett’s imperfections that allow her to be an admirable character, and a fascinating example of female empowerment in early American cinema.

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About the Creator

Fern Wigfield

I make adventures happen at Merlin Entertainments | A coffee addict who owns too many books | “Without stories, we wouldn't be human beings at all”

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