It Took Me a While to Come Around to This One

Rating: 8/10 (18 August 2003)

Ah, "Casablanca." Is there a line from the film that hasn't become a cliche? That's not a criticism of the movie. If anything it's the reverse. What greater compliment to a film screenplay can a film audience make than so completely absorbing every word of it into its common cultural consciousness?
It took me a long time and multiple viewings before I warmed up to Michael Curtiz's 1943 film (by some accounts a 1942 release). I'm not particularly a fan of either Ingrid Bergman or Humphrey Bogart, and the filmmaking techniques didn't strike me as anything inventive or unique and they still don't. At best, "Casablanca" exists as an example of the classic Hollywood style of filmmaking working at its slickest and most polished.
But then on about the fourth viewing, it struck me. The people who love this movie don't love it for the striking visuals or the daring narrative or any of the elements that make, say, "Citizen Kane" such continual fuel for film discussion. People still love "Casablanca" for coming out at exactly the right moment in our cultural history, and somehow it's retained that "right place, right time" allure. America had been involved in World War II for at least two years by the time of this film's wide release, and many women had seen their men leave to face uncertain futures. So no wonder a film with such an intense nostalgic glow about it would strike a universal chord. No wonder the forbidden romance between the Bergman and Bogart characters seemed so instensely poignant. And no wonder the patriotic, "do whatever you must for the good of the cause" propaganda (for let's call it what it is), seemed so stirring (and still does).
Is "Casablanca" a great film? I won't attempt to answer that, though it's not one of my personal favorites. But any film that carries its legacy with it the way this one does can't be completely dismissed either.
My grade: B+