"I do too."
This is a movie that has transcended the ordinary categories. It has outlived the Bogart cult, survived the revival circuit, shrugged off those who would deface it with colorization, leaped across time to win audiences who were born decades after it was made. Sooner or later, usually before they are 21, everyone sees "Casablanca." And then it becomes their favorite movie.
It is The Movie.
This year "Casablanca" is 50 years old. That is a long time in movie history, since the movies themselves are only about 100. But it is an instant in the span of time, and some of the people who made it, including two of its writers, are still alive. Most of the stars are dead, although Paul Henreid, who played Laszlo, and Curt Bois, who played the little pickpocket who warned visitors to Casablanca against the pickpockets, died only this year. The story of how it was made, of how quickly and inevitably this wonderful film seemed to flow through the studio system, is part of Hollywood legend. It is told again in a new book, Casablanca, (Overlook Press, $16.95), that includes the screenplay, a memoir by co-writer Howard Koch, and essays by various people who love the film, myself included. Movies are, in a sense, immortal. It is likely that people will be watching "Casablanca" centuries from now (and how wonderful it would be if we could see movies from centuries ago). In another sense, however, movies are fragile. They live on long flexible strips of celluloid, which fade, and tear, and collect scratches everytime they travel through a movie projector. And sometimes films burn, or disintegrate into dust.
For the 50th anniversary of "Casablanca," the Turner movie division, which now owns the film, has brought out a restored black and white 35mm theatrical print. The chances are it looks better than any version of "Casablanca" you have ever seen. This new print is also the basis for a new video tape release of the film, and prints of comparable quality have been made into laserdiscs by Warner Bros. and the Criterion Collection. I admire the tape and both of the discs, but I will offer one urgent piece of advice: If there is any way you can see this movie in 35mm in a theater, do it. Revival houses, which used to show a different movie every day, are a disappearing species, and only when a special anniversary print of a movie is released (as "Citizen Kane" and "Singin' in the Rain" have also been recently) can you see a 35mm revival on a big screen. This chance may not come around again soon.
And as for The Movie itself...
The key passages in "Casablanca" of course are the ones that immediately follow the unexpected entrance of Ingrid Bergman, as Ilsa, into Rick's place. These are unusual among classic movie scenes in being more emotionally affecting on subsequent viewings than they are the first time, and indeed "Casablanca" is one of those rare films that actually improves with repeated viewings. The first time we see the film we know nothing of the great love affair between Rick and Ilsa in Paris, and so we are simply following along, and the byplay between Ilsa and Sam has still to be decoded. We know it means something, but as yet we don't fully understand it. Then the film continues, and we experience the memories of Paris, we understand the depth of Ilsa's feelings, and the movie sweeps on to its magnificent conclusion. The next time we see it, every word between Ilsa and Sam, every nuance, every look or averted glance, has a poignant meaning. It is a good enough scene the first time we see it, but a great scene the second time.
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