"The fundamental things apply ...."

Rating: 8/10 (9 May 2007)

CASABLANCA is one strange little movie. It takes place in French Morocco and is populated with characters and actors from all over war-torn Europe, yet it is quintessentially American. It is rich in humor, but it isn't a comedy. It is a war movie, but its one great battle sequence is the singing of rival national anthems. It is plotted like a soap opera -- indeed, it is essentially a "woman's picture" -- but is directed like a spy movie. It is a film filled with intrigue, but offers only a vague sense of danger -- mostly it is about people standing around talking.
Considered one of the most romantic movies of all times, there is little romance and only fleeting moments of passion. Romance and heroism are defined not by what the characters do, but what they don't do. It is about sacrifice, doing without now in the hopes that it will benefit the greater good. The great triumph at the end finds two lovers parting ways, probably never to see each other again. And, yet, that is the happy ending as nobility conquers cynicism.
Long before I actually saw CASABLANCA, I had already seen bits and pieces, read about it in reviews and film history books, and even owned the screenplay. It was parodied in one of my favorite films, Woody Allen's PLAY IT AGAIN, SAM. Its famed dialogue had long since become beloved cliché. So, when I finally saw the film, it was anticlimactic; I knew the story, the dialogue and even the ending -- watching it was like watching a rerun, nothing seemed fresh. I was vaguely disappointed.
But over the years I've viewed it again and again, and liked it a bit more each time. I'm still not ready to concede that it is one of the great films, yet it succeeds at being something more; any failings it has as drama are inconsequential compared to its status as a cultural icon. It transcends being a mere movie and is as much of the American pop psyche as "Yankee Doodle Dandy," "Tom Sawyer," Norman Rockwell's paintings, Graceland and the '57 Chevy. America would be just a little less great without it.
Basically, the film is a standard love triangle: Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman) finds herself torn between the dark, mysterious Rick (Humphrey Bogart) and the pure and noble Victor (Paul Henried). Yet, Ilsa isn't the film's central character nor is the film from her perspective; Rick, the "other man," ultimately controls everybody's destiny. In a broader sense, Ilsa is the world at large, torn between Victor and his resistance to Nazi aggression and Rick, an American defiantly striving to remain, if not neutral, at least isolated from the encroaching war. Rick's decision to "stick his neck out" is America's decision to enter the war. It is said that while filmming, no one knew just how it would end; in reality it couldn't end any other way and still be true to the American spirit.
One thing that repeated viewings reveal is just how well the film is acted. It has a notable cast of character actors from the era -- Sydney Greenstreet, Peter Lorre, etc. -- and the inimitable Claude Rains practically steals the film as Captain Renault, the cheerfully pragmatic "poor corrupt official." For Bogart, it was the pivotal role of his career, bridging his persona from tough guy roles to a more heroic image as a leading man. His Rick is an enigmatic character, who he plays with cynical restraint and the occasional flash of sly wit. Bergman's role is remarkably small, yet she plays Ilsa with cool intensity that borders on cunning. She shows Ilsa to be a woman who is use to being quiet, almost subservient, as a means of camouflage. Bergman does most of her acting with her eyes, studying other characters and reading their motives. And she is absolutely gorgeous throughout.
But perhaps the film remains so beloved, not because of the romance or its nationalism; but because it is quite funny. Humor in a film can be a sign that the material isn't being taken seriously, but when it is done this well, the opposite is true. Here wit defines the characters and reveals not just their attitudes, but their intelligence. A film that so easily could have fallen into the trap of easy patriotic platitudes instead uses humor to define cynicism and enhance conflict. More than just one-liners, the crisp dialogue defines the characters as intelligent and complicated individuals.
Though CASABLANCA remains a beloved film, I wonder just how much of that reverence is based on nostalgia; so much of what the film represents is passe, or at least politically incorrect. A submissive woman who begs a man to think for her would be declared an insult in our post-feminist society. Few believe in the nobility of war any more, regardless of the circumstances; and fewer still see the value of self-sacrifice. Maybe that is the secret of CASABLANCA: it isn't about who we are or who we once were, but about who we would really like to be.