“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a ....” You doubtless know the rest of that line, which the American Film Institute rates as the most famous movie quote of all time. This line is from the final scene of “Gone with the Wind” (1939), uttered by Rhett Butler (Clark Gable) as he leaves Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh), his fiery wife.
This line owes much of its notoriety to its controversial nature upon the film’s release. In 1939, four-letter words, even mild profanities like the one in this line, were taboo in film. In July 1934, Hollywood adopted the Motion Picture Production Code as its governing rules, to be enforced by the Production Code Administration (PCA). The so-called Hays Code was erroneously named after Will H. Hays, president of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association (MPPDA). The PCA was headed by Joseph I. Breen, a tough but reasonable leader who understood the Code’s power was not in the letter of its rules but the spirit behind them. “Variety” nicknamed the PCA’s film-reviewing process, which they officially called self-regulation, “breening” in Mr. Breen’s honor. They accurately inferred that Joe Breen was the guiding spirit behind the Code’s enforcement, since the PCA quickly lost its efficacy after he retired in 1954.
To Breen
Adapting this over 1037-page novel into a movie was a Herculean task that required the involvement of some of Hollywood’s best talent, both in front of and behind the camera. Although they condensed the story, the final product was anything but succinct, clocking in at over three and a half hours. According to the Code, this Civil War story was as problematic as the casting and production. The novel’s principal characters had dubious morals, and the rest of the story basically broke every rule in the Code. That was nothing new for the PCA members, who worked on such problematic material every day of the week. High-profile projects like “Gone with the Wind” proved especially challenging, however, because every step of the process was being scrutinized in the press and because the source material was extremely well-known and beloved by the public and critics alike. Any major deviances from the novel which the PCA forced were sure to be ridiculed by the more daring publications. Although winning friends was never the PCA’s main concern, the MPPDA’s primary job was public relations for Hollywood, so anything that made the film industry look foolish was bad for business.Where to begin on this film’s issues? Few of the actual story changes or eliminations were the result of breening. Instead, most of the PCA issues centered around single scenes and isolated incidents. The most problematic character is Belle Watling (Ona Munson), the madame of a brothel which Rhett Butler (Clark Gable) frequents. The explicit depiction of prostitution and brothels and even the use of the word “madame” in that context was specifically forbidden by the Code. However, the PCA allowed the inclusion of many women with questionable reputations and unspecified occupations, who were described as prostitutes in their original stories but who are only implied to be such in the films. Younger viewers of this film might be unsure as to what sort of business Belle runs and why she has such a bad reputation. Is she an actress or perhaps a “hostess,” a convenient title used in Code films for ladies who were paid merely for their charming company? The PCA allowed her bright clothing, heavy makeup, and outcast status to explain just what happened at her salon.
One of the central points of the story is Scarlett O’Hara’s (Vivien Leigh) intense desire for Ashley Wilkes (Leslie Howard). She is in love with her serenely refined neighbor at age sixteen, but the gentleman chooses instead to marry his cousin, Melanie Hamilton (Olivia DeHavilland). In defiance and to sustain herself, Scarlett takes three husbands, the first two of whom die, leaving her married to the hot-blooded Rhett Butler. However, dozens of beaux and three husbands fail to extinguish her passion for Ashley, her ideal of the lost breed of Southern gentlemen.
In the novel, the pair never have an actual affair, which frustrates Scarlett for years, but her lust for him is discussed in detail that could never be allowed in a Code film. Rhett’s dialogue about his wife’s pursuit of another man was taken largely from the book but trimmed and revised just enough to make it subtly sophisticated instead of embarrassingly blatant. For instance, in the scene before Rhett carries Scarlett upstairs, he says, “Mr. Wilkes, who can’t be mentally faithful to his wife and won’t be unfaithful to her technically.” Consider the difference of the book’s line, “He can’t be faithful to his wife with his mind or unfaithful with his body.” The emphasis was placed on the spiritually romantic aspects of Scarlett’s infatuation with Ashley, rather than her longing for physical ones. Care was also taken to remove the undertones of impotence and effeminacy in Ashley’s nature, removing Scarlett’s father’s references to his being “queer.”
Not to Breen
After dealing with the general problems listed above, the Production Code Administrators spent considerable effort, not to mention dozens of letters, memos, phone calls, and studio visits, to solve certain specific problems, as described in Thomas Doherty’s book “Hollywood’s Censor: Joseph I. Breen & The Production Code Administration.” Two scenes were particularly problematic, the first being the scene when Melanie Wilkes gives birth, aided by Scarlett. The Code’s text specifically states: “Scenes of actual childbirth, in fact or in silhouette, are never to be presented.” As part of his grittily realistic interpretation, David Selznick wanted this scene to be earthier than the idealized depiction of childbirth usually seen in movies from this time period. In the finished film, a silhouette technique was used to convey the danger of the situation without becoming too graphic.The other trouble scene has been called the staircase scene. After a tense, heated argument, an angry Rhett forcefully picks Scarlett up and carries her upstairs, presumably for a night of passion. In the book, the authoress described Scarlett’s reactions to her husband’s passionate kissing and advances, which she had long fended off with a closed bedroom door. The film removed the more suggestive lines beforehand and left the audience at the bottom of the stairs, leaving what ensued to the imagination. The PCA’s biggest concern was Scarlett’s behavior the following morning, which they warned against being suggestively ecstatic upon waking up. The PCA humorously advised against Miss Leigh’s having the appearance of “licking her chops.” In the finished film, she looks happy, but the whole scenario is appropriately subtle. As for those who complain this situation was “marital rape,” I don’t think that was the intended implication; rather, the message was that Scarlett is always too caught up in her own fantasies to appreciate what she has with Rhett until he has moved on.
The Code forbade the usage of racial epithets, listing specific forbidden slurs. Among them was “nigger,” which was used 104 times in the original novel. At one point, Selznick wanted to include at least a few usages of the offensive expression, spoken by both white and black characters, but the PCA strongly advised against it, especially if spoken by white characters. Eventually, the self-regulators persuaded Selznick to replace all uses of the word with more acceptable expressions, such as “darky,” “negro/negress,” and “colored.”
Outsmarting Themselves
The PCA’s contributions to the film industry aren’t appreciated anymore because they aren’t and never really were understood. One of the greatest misconceptions is that filmmakers “got something by” Joseph Breen. Perhaps a wily screenwriter could slip an innuendo or two past one of the lower-ranking PCA members, but no one ever pulled the wool over Joe Breen’s eyes. He was no bashful bluenose.
The Irish newspaperman unblinkingly bantered about the most delicate of taboo topics with a bluntness which made the filmmakers blush. They couldn’t possibly shock him, since he had seen everything during his many years of traveling and working different jobs before the PCA, and they also couldn’t trick him. By the same token, filmmakers couldn’t fool the PCA into letting them include the objectionable elements they wanted by putting in extra violations to be removed. Any technical Code violations that Joseph Breen allowed were the result of special permission, which he granted after careful examination and a fair collaborative process.
No film is a greater example of these truths than “Gone with the Wind,” particularly regarding Rhett’s famous line. Two great misconceptions surround this situation. Firstly, many people think this movie was the first time that word was said onscreen and that Gable’s usage ushered in the beginning of profanity in film. This couldn’t be farther from the truth, since Pre-Code films were filled with four-letter words. It wasn’t even the first Code film to use the word, since Warner Bros. 1937 short film “The Man Without a Country,” based on Edward Everett Hale’s short story of the same name, was granted a similar exception for using the same word in a poignant curse which sets the plot in motion.
After 1939, the Breen Office’s policy on profanity was just as strict, only allowing an occasional exception, by appeal, under special circumstances. Secondly, David Selznick didn’t go above Joseph Breen’s head to obtain an MPPDA exception. He did so with Mr. Breen’s knowledge and blessing; the Production Code Administrator even helped Selznick compile the facts for his case, since he agreed with Selznick that the usage was not an oath or curse but “a vulgarism.” The press’s cheeky assertion that Breen had been lax was a source of great irritation to the former newspaperman. Considering how fleeting the moment is in the film, the whole thing seems like an unnecessary fuss on Selznick’s part to me.
Which side do you take in Hollywood’s Civil War, to breen or not to breen?
