Few films have touched a nerve with their audiences the way 'Casablanca' did in 1942. We were in the midst of the second World War. Every citizen of the United States was being asked to do what they could for the war effort. Imagine knowing many of your loved ones were overseas, with a good possibility that some might not make it back. Imagine the imminent threat that Nazi Germany could have in your life, whether you be Jewish, or black, or even gay. Imagine that, perhaps, the war had made a cynic out of you, and you just didn't care anymore. You wonder into a movie theater, and you buy a ticket for some picture called 'Casablanca' for thirty-five cents.
You sit down and through the magic of the cinema, you are thrust into French Morocco. You witness the countless people there, most of whom came from Europe, desperate to make an escape to America. You meet Rick Blaine, a nightclub owner who sticks his neck out for no one. A completely political neutral man who is chummy with a Nazi prefect and with his devoted piano player, Sam, who happens to be black. A friend asks Rick to keep some papers for him. More specifically, he asks him to hold onto "letters of transit." These papers will allow anyone in Casablanca to leave immediately for America, no questions asked. They are worth a fortune and everyone wants them. You witness Rick's friend being dragged to prison, where he is killed while being tortured for the whereabouts of these letters of transit, without a word of compassion from Rick. He has the papers now and you wonder what he plans to do with them.
In walks a renowned hero, Victor Lazlo, who escaped from a concentration camp and now leads a resistance against the Germans. His wife accompanies him. Sam, the piano man, recognizes her and she him. She asks the piano man to come to her table and asks him to "play it." He doesn't know what she's talking about. "Play it, Sam," she says, "play 'As Time Goes By.'" He does, begrudgingly, and you get a good look into this woman's soul as the camera holds a close-up for a very long time. She doesn't move, she doesn't cry, she doesn't do anything. She stares at the floor, but you know she's seeing something else. Rick hears the song and tells Sam to stop playing it. And then he sees her.
Rick has a dilemma, and so do you. He has the papers to leave Casablanca for America. Until now, it seemed that he didn't really care about them much, probably could have sold them for a fortune. But now, his long lost lover has returned to him, but what's more, she has her husband with her, who just happens to be a refugee and leader of the French resistance against Germany. The Nazi prefect is a good pal of Rick's, and he makes it clear that Lazlo is not to leave Casablanca under any circumstances. You think he suspects Rick. Things start getting out of control. Lazlo's presence in Casablanca escalates French patriotism and the presence of the Nazi party keeps getting stronger and stronger. Rick falls for his long lost lover again, and she for him, and they find that they can't keep apart. But she is caught between her love for Rick and her devotion to her husband and his importance to the resistance. Rick is caught between his love, his respect for Lazlo, and his friendship with the Nazi prefect.
And finally, you get to the last moments of the film. Rick tricks the prefect into taking the love triangle to the airport and just when we think he and his love are, at last, going to get away together, he thrusts the papers into Lazlo's hands and turns to his love as she protests, and tells her the problems of three people "don't amount to a hill of beans." "Here's looking at you kid," he says, and she gets on the plane with Lazlo, giving hope to the resistance. The Nazi general drives into the field, sees the plane taking off and is about to call it back when Rick shoots and kills him in front of the Nazi prefect. When a group of soldiers stumbles in soon afterward and see the dead general, they turn to the prefect for an explanation. "Round up the usual suspects," he says, much to Rick's surprise. The two of them walk off into the sunset together as Rick, an American (you) says to the German, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
Can you imagine that? Can you imagine stumbling into a theater in 1942 and being submerged into that world and that story and hearing those last lines in the midst of this hopeless and cruel world you live in?
This is how films need to be watched. It's easy for someone today to watch 'Casablanca' and brush it off as old and boring. I hate hearing the word 'timeless.' Nothing is timeless. There isn't a movie or a novel or a piece of artwork or music that is timeless. Young people today don't see old movies as timeless, they see them as old, and if older people keep trying to brand them as 'timeless,' the younger generation will never understand the movie. Everything is a product of its generation, but that doesn't mean it isn't important or relevant anymore. When you watch 'Casablanca,' watch it through that lens of someone trying to make sense of a war they've been thrust into. Watch it through the lens of the everyday American with no hope that their friends or family would make it back, or wondering what the point of it all is, or giving everything you've got for the war with nothing to show for it. This movie is dreadfully important. It was important culturally, and now it is important artistically. It gives us the chance to observe history in an alternative light. Usually history is told only by the facts. It is art that gives us the perspective of history, which is ultimately more important than the facts. Through this film, we can experience world war II for ourselves, which gives us more respect for the importance of that time in America and in the world.
