The Germans wore grey, you wore blue.

Rating: 10/10 (27 August 2015)

"I like to think you killed a man. It's the Romantic in me." muses Captain Renault as he tries to prise open the complex puzzle that is Rick Blaine. Claude Rains' role as the jovial and mild mannered captain of the police is often under-appreciated. He is the arbiter of the political tension in Rick's bar, with his profession of feigned neutrality that eventually becomes genuine empathy, even he succumbing to that same temptation of redemption that Bogart's character goes through. Casablanca is after all a romance, and like Captain Renault, many expected a romance. On the second time around, that ghostly stare of Rick and the nervous smile of Ilsa become laced with much more tension than the first time because our expectations of the film are no longer shackling us from believing of that sunset ending.
There's so much to be taken from the two lead's performances. Bogart is enigmatic is his first romantic role outside of his usual typecast. He portrays Rick with a sense of cynicism and disillusionment that speaks for itself; why else would a man remain in Casablanca, on the brink of invasion? We never find out why he has been barred from returning to America, nor do we get that fateful ending of the taking of the city, but we know from Bogart that Rick is man who sticks out his neck for nobody. Opposite him is the radiant Bergman, so often in the right of frame as she considered her left side the better of the two. Her beauty is enhanced by Edeson's used of a softening gauze filter and catch lighting to further add nuance to her character; each wayward glance, each subtle eye catch with Rick is full of humanity and tenderness. Bergman emotes so effortlessly that we can gaze into her gleaming or glistening eyes with ease and see scenes of Paris racing through her mind, and this is even before we witness that famous flashback with Steiner's stirring theme ushering us into a dreamlike memory (on a second viewing of course).
Last of the top billing is Paul Henreid as Victor Laszlo, the identified hero of the story. It's been often said that he is the weaker link of the acting, that perhaps his character is less substantial within the love story that Rick and Ilsa fleetingly have. But Laszlo is a vital piece of the film and the moral centre that drives the changes in our other characters. In that famous battle of the bands where a rousing round of La Marseillaise brings even the despairing Yvonne to tears, we admire Laszlo for his bravery and defiance but also Rick for his sly nod of approval. Wasn't this a man who only stuck out for himself?
Later, in a sub-plot that is nevertheless important and evocative, a woman from Bulgaria approaches him with obvious fear and apprehension. She is desperate to obtain exit visas for her and her husband and even subtly offers sexual favours in return. Rick is unable to disarm her intentions or convince her otherwise, but decides to help her in his own way: "Have you tried 22 tonight?" This little gesture not only points to Rick's changing sympathies but also tells us about other characters; see the gleeful reaction of Carl the waiter, or the observation of this act of goodwill by Renault. Casablanca is full of little moments that tell us lots about our characters. Ilsa arrives at night to plead with Rick for the papers that will grant their freedom away from the city. Rick refuses and when he turns back around, it's not an seductive open dress that we might expect from other films, but a gun pointed at his chest. Ilsa is so in denial she cannot afford a moment of weakness towards her former lover, so desperate for those papers. She admires Laszlo for his many deeds, but cannot say I love you in the same vein as the way she says it to Rick.
Despite it's troubled writing history, Casablanca has one of the finest scripts in film history. Curtiz's direction is impeccable and fully serves the narrative; there isn't a single shot that doesn't contain visual storytelling. An anguished Rick sits in his dim office, the chiaroscuro lighting illuminating his despair against the dark backdrop as the loyal Sam plays a simple rendition of As Time Goes By, leading into the score swelling as we fade into Paris. The Production Code of Hollywood at the time forbade an ending of Ilsa departing with Rick as it would depict a married woman leaving her husband, an immoral act. And how ironic that ruling turned out to be, because it's the self-sacrifice of Rick which ensures that magnificent ending. Love, after all, does not conquer everything. But we'll always have Paris.