How virtuous is Melanie Hamilton Wilkes? She's so virtuous that when she goes to work in a military hospital, her headgear is designed to look like a nun's wimple. She's so virtuous that her death scene is scored for angelic choir and the prominent sound of a harp. Alas, Melanie Hamilton Wilkes is so damned virtuous that even an actress as skilled as Olivia de Havilland can't make her anything but annoying.
We first hear of Melanie when Scarlett describes her as a "mealy-mouthed ninny," and though it's clear that Scarlett, being something of a shallow airheaded party girl herself, may not be the best judge of character, that description hits awfully close to home when we finally get to meet her at the Twelve Oaks barbecue. The overwhelming impression we get of Melanie is that she's extraordinarily kind and sweet, but also duller than dirt.
She doesn't do much to change our impression of her in the early going; she's optimistic and cheerful to the point of naivete, as when she tells Ashley that "no war can come into our world." Even when Atlanta is under attack and Melanie is undergoing a labor so difficult that she might not survive, she doesn't scream, doesn't swear, doesn't get visibly upset or frightened. No, Melanie the Good just perspires a bit and smiles her brave little smile.
Melanie develops a bit more character after the escape to Tara; she even -- oh my gosh -- lies to the O'Hara sisters after Scarlett kills a Yankee intruder, and is smart enough to play her part in the deception of the Yankee soldiers after the shantytown raid. Further, her admirable willingness to befriend Belle Watling shows that her sense of decency is not limited to conventional notions of right and wrong.
But those moments are few and far between; for the most part, Melanie remains an easily manipulated, overly trusting simp. Even after catching Scarlett in a compromising position with Ashley, Melanie refuses to get angry, and does her utmost to see that Scarlett's position in society is not entirely destroyed by the incident.
It isn't just that Melanie tends by nature to see the best side of others; she actively refuses to see their bad side. "Don't tell me any more," she says to Mammy, who is describing Rhett's frightening behavior after Bonnie's accident, and it's not the first time we've heard similar sentiments from her. Melanie doesn't want to know anything bad about anyone; she'd rather live in her pretty storybook world where everyone is just as kind and noble as she is.
Melanie's sheer perfection is so inhuman that for all of her efforts -- and lord, is she working hard -- Olivia de Havilland can't make her a convincing character. Melanie is, from start to finish, an idealized Southern belle who, like everything else in this movie's nostalgic vision of the old South, is romanticized in so syrupy a fashion that you could choke on the sweetness.
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