The Books: Memo from David O. Selznick : The Creation of “Gone with the Wind” and Other Motion Picture Classics, as Revealed in the Producer’s Private Letters, Telegrams, Memorandums, and Autobiographical Remarks

Next book on the Hollywood shelf:

Memo from David O. Selznick : The Creation of “Gone with the Wind” and Other Motion Picture Classics, as Revealed in the Producer’s Private Letters, Telegrams, Memorandums, and Autobiographical Remarks, selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer

Part of the wonderful Modern Library: The Movies series, edited by Martin Scorsese, Memo from David O. Selznick is a goldmine. I imagine that the editing of such an enormous archive (Selznick wrote reams of memos every single day, and each one appears to have some deep-abiding interest in it) was a daunting task. What to leave out, what to keep in? As it stands, Behlmer did a phenomenal job, with very little editorial comments interjected (something I like). If the original work is strong enough, you don’t need a “voice” in there pulling the story along.

David O. Selznick was the son of a silent film producer and he apprenticed in his father’s company before moving to Hollywood in the 20s. Obviously now remembered today mainly for having produced Gone With the Wind, Selznick had a long and interesting career, rising up through the ranks of various studios (obviously using his father’s connections). He worked as a story editor, something he was obviously very good at, as evidenced by his script notes in all of these memos. He was a literate man, and had great respect for the original source material – something that was rare then, and still rarer today, when less people read. His memos on David Copperfield (one of his favorite books) could be taught in literature classes. You can read just one of these fascinating memos at the end of this post here. He was one of those fascinating types so common of the major studio era: deeply concerned with the bottom line, but also deeply concerned with creating something good, even artistic. He was a producer, he ushered projects into being, sometimes through sheer force of will. He fired off these memos left and right throughout the day, putting out fires, cajoling actors, berating colleagues, explaining his case. It’s a wonder, reading this archive, that he actually left his office ever. His entire life appears to be in these memos. It is a fantastic portrait of a man at work, of a complicated business laid bare in the ins and outs of everyday decisions that had to be made.

If I recall correctly, the editor made a decision to focus on the GWTW memos, although even there, the memos unedited would reach many many volumes. Crazy. That shoot was crazy. But alongside the GWTW memos, are memos about all of these other great projects he produced – his comments on actors, on casting, on script analysis, on cinematography, pacing, music … It’s exhaustive. And because these are quickly dictated memos, as opposed to letters he agonized days over writing, you actually get the feeling for his voice, his tone. They are in-the-moment.

Like I said, a goldmine, and a must-read for anyone interested in film, certainly, but also the history of that time, and literature – hell, people interested in business would find a lot of value in this book. This is a guy who was the sole dude responsible for ushering these many-faceted projects into fruition.

Eventually, Selznick became an independent producer and set up his own company. He was instrumental in busting up Jennifer Jones’ marriage to the wonderful Robert Walker, and devoted years to creating projects worthy of her. It’s fascinating and you can feel, a little bit, his obsession with her show up in the memos. He was a Svengali, certainly, but – it reminded me of Charles Foster Kane, insisting that the showgirl he fell in love with could star in an opera, and pouring all of his great resources into creating this giant showpiece where she could be highlighted. Not that Jennifer Jones was not worthy of such approbation – it’s just that you can really feel that suddenly Selznick’s business decisions got really really personal once she came into the picture.

I have read this book a bunch of times. I use it as a reference book, dipping into it when I need something. Sometimes while reading it I actually feel like I have been transported back in time to the bustling golden age of the studio era. It has that feel. I can feel that time erect itself around me. Giants walked the earth then. Giants like Louis B. Mayer and Selznick and Thalberg – these guys who helped create the Dreamspace that is Hollywoodland.

David O. Selznick, Victor Fleming,Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable

The production of Gone With the Wind was famously stormy and over-the-top, from the get-go. They went through multiple directors: George Cukor, Sam Wood (who directed it for, like, 2 seconds, before backing out), and, finally, Victor Fleming. From reading the memos, you can see that Selznick was no hands-off producer. He was highly involved in every aspect of production. Here is a memo to George Cukor (the director at the time), Oliver Garrett (who worked with Selznick on many projects, including GWTW), and none other than F. Scott Fitzgerald, who had been brought on to work on some dialogue. None of Fitzgerald’s work ended up in the final product. It is interesting to mention, however, that in this memo- where Selznick discusses the length of the picture and the scenes that could be dropped – none of the ones mentioned were dropped. All survive in the picture.

And keep in mind that this is only one of the memos he wrote on that same day.

Excerpt from Memo from David O. Selznick : The Creation of “Gone with the Wind” and Other Motion Picture Classics, as Revealed in the Producer’s Private Letters, Telegrams, Memorandums, and Autobiographical Remarks, selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer

January 7, 1939

TO: Messrs. Cukor, Garret, Fitzgerald

In relation to our length problem, the only way that we can really cut down may be through the elimination of some of the very best scenes in the whole picture – also some of the best-remembered scenes in the book.

I will note in this memo as I go along those scenes which from a standpoint of storytelling we can lose; and we should have a discussion on this before we start shooting, possibly postponing the shooting of these dubious scenes until the completion of the picture and until we see how long we actually are. It breaks my heart to consider losing any of them but I don’t see any other alternative, and certainly the very least we should do is discuss them.

We are a couple of reels before we get to the story of Scarlett and Rhett, which is, after all, the stuff on which the book is built and upon which the success of the picture will depend. These couple of reels are made up of the following:

1. Scene with the Tarleton twins, which is defensible on only two grounds; first, that it is remembered that the book opens this way, and second, that it introduces talk of the war.

2. The scene with the father, which is undoubtedly necessary.

3. The scene of the mother’s return from the Slatterys, which has the following necessary points which perhaps could be handled elsewhere:

Introduction of the sisters;
Introduction of Jonas Wilkerson;
Introduction of the house servants.

4. Prayer Scene – which certainly is in no sense essential, and which I have included only because it is so well remembered and should be effective pictorially, and also because we see Ellen as the mistress of the house and the great lady in charge of her family and domestic servants – and performing her functions as the mistress of a Southern establishment. This scene has the additional point which is desirable but not essential – of planting Scarlett’s intentions about the next day – because the scene with Ashley actually does not need this plant.

5. There is a considerable chunk of film that might be saved by going straight from the prayer scene to Twelve Oaks – because, actually, the intervening scene between Scarlett and Mammy, and the bits that surround it, do not progress our story one iota and, in fact, hold it up. It is an absolutely wonderful scene, one of the best we have, but there is no justification for it from a standpoint of storytelling or footage.

6. The arrival at Twelve Oaks and the scenes that precede the barbecue are not very exciting, and are justified only by the introduction of Ashley and Melanie, plus some minor relationships such as that between India and Charles Hamilton (the importance of which is not very great and which, actually, the picture can live without), as well as the relationship between Frank Kennedy and Suellen, which is also not terribly important if our footage problem continues to be as great as it presently appears.

Rhett’s introduction could very easily be handled in the barbecue or in the library. As a matter of fact, a very good introduction is his popping up out of the couch.

7. Similarly, the barbecue scene is completely unnecessary. Actually it has not any real value of any kind, except in relation to Scarlett’s return to the scene of the barbecue on her way from Atlanta to Tara – and even this effect could be duplicated by having her in the house instead of at the barbecue pits. The only conceivable reason for the barbecue is that it is well remembered. (Note: if we drop the barbecue, perhaps we should change the dialogue in the sequence at Tara, with reference to the barbecue.)

8. The scene of Scarlett tiptoeing out of the girls’ room is also not necessary, but presumably the dialogue about the war and Rhett’s attitude toward it is essential. We may be able to reduce it considerably, but our present method of handling it seems rather adroit, in that it keeps the Ashley-Scarlett story going while the war talk and Rhett’s attitude is being slipped to the audience.

From all of the above something can be dropped – just what, I haven’t finally concluded, but I think we should have a meeting immediately to decide which, if any of these scenes, we should lose.

I think we must realize that if the book were 2000 pages long instead of 1000 pages, we would obviously have to throw away many, many great scenes; and I think there is only one policy to follow in concluding what we can and cannot retain – and that is, that we must retain scenes that are essential to the story, and lose scenes, however valuable, that are not essential . . . .

DOS