Can a movie be PERFECT?

Rating: 10/10 (6 July 2001)

Little can be said about this masterpiece that has not been said. Every superlative applies. The people involved in the making of Casablanca were convinced they were making just another movie meant to inspire patriotism in an America teetering on the brink of war. Indeed, in many ways, this is precisely how the movie was planned. But somewhere between then and now, Casablanca emerged as the most iconic movie of all time.
The story takes place shortly before America's entry into WWII. Casablanca, while unoccupied, was controlled by Vichy and was a dangerous place for enemies of the Reich. Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) runs a café where everyone comes, and where shady transactions are conducted by the French Resistance. Rick maintains a delicate neutrality, with duplicitous cooperation from the local police captain, Louis Renault (Claude Rains).
Then the Czechoslovakian resistance leader arrives with a woman in tow, but not just any woman. She is Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman), his wife, although we discover she had a passionate affair in Paris with Rick some time ago.
The rest of the story revolves around what Orson Welles called a McGuffin – the letters of transit. That no such papers could have existed is immaterial. The McGuffin helps the central characters discover their true nature and make decisions that will change them forever.
But the story is in the experience of it. As you are drawn into Casablanca, its intrigue, love, betrayal and redemption, you are transformed by it utterly. Long before postmodern deconstructionism made it de rigueur to send up treasured metaphors only to bring them crashing down, Casablanca wove them into a story that fills you with nostalgia only experienced in the collective memory of our culture, as if each event happened directly to you.
Embarrassingly rich with talent, the film's gravitational center is the bristling energy that radiates from Bogart and Bergman. They are luminous beings whose monochromatic images will haunt your memory forever. Paul Henreid's Victor Laszlo, like his portrayal of Jerry Durrance the same year in Now, Voyager, in a lesser movie would have been legendary. The fact that Casablanca engulfs him, as well as Claude Raines, Peter Lorre and Sidney Greenstreet, is a yardstick against which Casablanca must be measured.
The cast of Casablanca, in fact, is its true treasure. Humphrey Bogart appears in his first romantic lead, yet maintains the toughness and cynicism of the thug image Hollywood manufactured for him. His shell of cynicism notwithstanding, Bogart's character reveals himself to be a wounded, vulnerable man, consumed by bitterness and regret. Yet he manages, from within despair, to reinhabit his former self, rising to an epic heroism which, the film suggests, is within each of us.
Bergman's astonishing beauty illuminates her character. Who could gaze into those vast, glistening eyes and not be moved? Although, apropos of the time, she is portrayed as a possession to be won or lost, she transcends that image with each glance. Her immense beauty is an almost desperate counterpoint to the struggles taking place before her.
Paul Henreid has been roundly criticized for not being the thespian equal of his costars. But he plays his role perfectly as the self-righteous prig who represents Ilsa's tragic alternative to the man she truly loves. Had he been otherwise, Ilsa's choice would have been easy and the story would not have worked. Henreid, like every aspect of this masterpiece, is an archetype without which the story could not take place.
The second tier actors were equally amazing. Claude Rains, Conrad Veidt, Sidney Greenstreet, and Peter Lorre were stars in their own rights. In fact, Veidt was the highest paid actor in the film. They are delightfully complex, and yet necessarily abstract, providing still more archetypes around which to anchor the story. Rains, as the servile Vichy toady, provides delicious moments of comic irony. Much has also been made of the repressed homosexual overtones of Renault's relationship with Rick, and Rick's relationship with Sam. Whether intentional or not, this aspect merely deepens the humanity of the characters.
Even the supporting cast was extraordinary, many of them actual refugees from Europe, lending the story an aching realism. The famous "Battle of the Anthems" scene plays so real because the extras were truly moved by it, each recalling his own real-life exodus from the war.
If director Michael Curtiz was not a peer with contemporary auteur directors, his signature is nonetheless present in Casablanca's taut, scintillating structure. The numerous screenwriters each provided something unique. Even the cinematography was inspired, masterfully playing with images of captivity and conflict produced by shadows precisely placed for effect.
In the end, everything flows seamlessly, the very definition of synergy. It would be criminal, though, after considering the details of perhaps the greatest film of all time, not to come back to the personal, visceral experience of it. No matter how many times I watch Casablanca, it never fails to move me. Far from diminishing over time, the full experience matures and deepens with each viewing. I still hold my breath as each iconic moment unfolds. I still gasp when I look into Ilsa's eyes the first time.
But the true measure of Casablanca is the enduring respect it garners from film buffs the world over. Delicately dancing around the easy epic of World War II, the film shows us instead how great events can conspire to make even the most reprobate existence monumental.
This is, in my mind, the closest thing to cinematic perfection we are ever likely to see. Unfortunately, the rich cultural references will seem somewhat abstruse for viewers not familiar with history leaving the full appreciation of Casablanca beyond reach. But if you are equipped with both a brain and a heart, this movie will move you and thrill you like few can.