Casablanca (1943)

Since its release, Casablanca has become engulfed in as much nostalgia and mythology as any film ever made. Set before the U.S. involvement in World War II, it takes place in French Morocco during the era of Vichy France. Much of the action takes place in and around Rick’s Café Americain, whose owner is played to world-weary perfection by Humphrey Bogart. As the saying goes, “everyone comes to Rick’s,” and that’s certainly the case with the French, Moroccans, Germans, Russians, Bulgarians, Italians, and others who frequent the café. The importance of what transpires over the course of the film is less about what happens, honestly, and more about the interactions between sharply drawn characters. Explaining the magic of Casablanca is almost impossible because it is such an exemplar of how each of the pieces is perfect on its own and contributes somewhat unexpectedly to the greatness of the whole.

The plot is both engaging and engrossing. It is a love story, a war movie, and a suspense film all at once. The premise is rather simple: One of the greatest of the Czechoslovakia Resistance leaders, Victor Laszlo (played by Paul Henreid), is coming to Morocco in search of two letters of transit that will ensure safe passage for him and his wife to Lisbon, Portugal, and then America. The letters are among the greatest of film MacGuffins. They serve as a central focus to the plot and everyone wants to find these letters, but really we are more intrigued by what appear at first to be a series of subplots. For example, the love triangle between Bogart’s Rick, Ingrid Bergman’s Ilsa, and Henreid’s Victor keeps viewers wondering whether Ilsa will stay with her husband, the noble and respected Victor, or go with the man she loved in Paris, Rick. Given that Rick can at times be excessively cruel to Ilsa, you might think the choice is obvious, but Bergman (who was nominated as Best Actress in a Leading Role for a different film in 1943, For Whom the Bell Tolls) reveals just how difficult the choice truly is. Indeed, the romantic plot is what propels much of the main narrative of the film.

There’s also a lively subplot involving the friendship between Rick and Capt. Renault (the great Claude Rains, stealing the film whenever he appears on screen). They are often at odds with each other, such as when Rick helps a young wife gather enough funds to avoid Renault’s planned advances on her in exchange for passage out of Casablanca. Renault understands how to survive, though, and he admires Rick’s perseverance even though he doesn’t know all of the café owner’s background. There’s some intriguing wordplay exchanged between the two men, and they sometimes come across more as a romantic couple than just friends. And then there’s Renault’s description of Rick: “Rick is the kind of man that… well, if I were a woman, and I were not around, I should be in love with Rick.” It wouldn’t take much to tease out the playful homoeroticism of their relationship in the film.

For the most part, the plot is rather linear. However, the narrative makes very effective use of a flashback to Rick and Ilsa in Paris before the Germans took over the city. It shows such a sharp contrast in personality to the man Bogart plays in the  contemporary timeline. Seeing how much in love they were before the war separated them reveals how a man who was once on the side of rebels and patriots could feel like he has lost everything, including his concern about what happens to himself. The screenplay also features  other brief powerful moments too, such as when Laszlo has the band play the “Marseillaise” loudly to drown out the Germans singing in the café, a rousing threat to German authority and power. And then there are lovely little interchanges between Yvonne and Sasha that serve as little moments of comic relief. Even at a somewhat brisk 102 minutes, the film takes the time to develop even small moments as embellishments to the main plot.

Casablanca also has one of the greatest casts ever assembled, particularly in supporting roles. Bogart and Bergman are at their best here, and the camera truly loves Bergman. Watch as her face changes during the flashback set in Paris; it’s very clear that something has changed for her. Or watch the rapturous way that she listens to Dooley Wilson playing “As Time Goes By.” Even when silent, Bergman is so very emotionally expressive. Henreid is solid, but he does sometimes play Laszlo as more of an ideal than an actual man. I’ve already mentioned Rains and his great work here (perhaps the best work he ever did in a long and distinguished career), but the rest of the supporting players were some of the best character actors in Hollywood. Just consider Sydney Greenstreet as the duplicitous Ferrari, the owner of the rival Blue Parrot; Peter Lorre at his oiliest and most unctuous as Ugarti, the thief who initially stole the letters of transit; Conrad Veidt as the venomous German Major Strasser; and S.Z. Sakall as Carl, the sentimental waiter at the café. It’s a series of beautifully modulated performances.

The film also has some of the most quoted (and most quotable) lines in film history. The screenplay by the Epstein Brothers (Julius and Philip G.) and Howard Koch features sharp, incisive, and witty dialogue. It’s a delight to watch over and over, and repeated viewings always reveal new insights, new aspects of the rich intricacies of the interchanges between characters. The final sequence at the airport is justifiably hailed as a masterpiece of closure, and you’d be hard pressed to find a monologue that compares with Bogart’s interchange with Bergman as the audience waits to see whether or not he will join her. And you should always correct anyone who misquotes Ilsa: “Play it, Sam. Play ‘As Times Go By.” No one in the film says, “Play it again,” but there’s no need to do so.

Many of the lines have justifiably been cited as perfectly written. Just a few brief samples illustrate the clever nature of the screenplay’s use of language:

·         “I don’t mind a parasite. I object to a cut-rate one.”

·         “I stick my neck out for nobody.”

·         “I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue.”

·         “I told my men to be especially destructive. You know how that impresses Germans.”

Those are, certainly, lesser known examples, but if you’ve watched the film, you are already familiar with “Here’s looking at you, kid” and “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” Even if you haven’t watched the film, you likely have heard some reference to its dialogue, such as the phrase “the usual suspects.”

All of the components here add up to represent the very best of classical Hollywood studio filmmaking. Finding out that none of the film was shot on location doesn’t detract from its impact. The backlot at Warner Brothers and the Van Nuys Airport wouldn’t necessarily remind anyone of an exotic African city, but here they ably work to depict the café and its environs. Learning that Bogart and Bergman weren’t the original choices for the leads doesn’t detract from the pleasure of their performances here, either. The studios controlled a lot of people’s lives during that era, thanks to very restrictive contracts, so when you were assigned to work on a film, you did so.  It’s the final product that has deservedly endured as a classic even though no one might have expected it to be so when they were making it.

One side note: In case you’re wondering why “As Time Goes By” wasn’t nominated for the Best Original Song, it wasn’t written for Casablanca. It was actually written for a Broadway musical from eleven years earlier, Everybody’s Welcome. It took Casablanca to popularize the song and make it one of the most memorable movie songs of all time, but oddly enough, it’s actually not a film song at all.

Oscar Wins: Outstanding Motion Picture, Best Director (Michael Curtiz), and Best Screenplay

Other Nominations: Best Actor in a Leading Role (Humphrey Bogart), Best Actor in  Supporting Role (Claude Rains), Best Black-and-White Cinematography, Best Film Editing, and Best Score of a Dramatic or Comedy Picture