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The Suicide List: Casablanca

Filed under: Classics, Drama, DVD Reviews


Bergman and Bogart: Casablanca

In the wake of one-too-many remakes, some of us here at Cinematical are feeling a little hurt, a little wounded, a little afraid. We're feeling like a little drastic, overly-protective cinephiliac action may soon be required. So we've put together a list of films, the remaking of which will activate a mass Cinematical suicide pact - or, at the very least, a mass Cinematical drinking-like-Hemingway-for-a-day-or-two pact. Well, okay, probably not even that - but we would get a little miffed. Read on for a defense.

What's fun about revisiting a film like Casablanca, is that (if you haven't seen it in a long while) you get to see it again as if new, but with that hint of familiarity that makes meeting up with an old friend so satisfying and yet so plagued with curiosity: what have they been up to?

Well, Ingrid Bergman is busy flapping her eyelashes over those smoky eyes of hers. She may be known for her "pure" persona—that of the Hollywood golden girl, but some of best performances came out of playing tragic figures, for instance, Casablanca's Lady of Hard Knocks, Ilsa. Considering Berman's mother died when she was 3, her father at 12, and her aunt (to whom she was passed off) a mere three months later, the poor girl didn't need any method acting: tragedy was built in.

Sufficed to say, any film featuring Humphrey Bogart and Bergman is a great film, and Casablanca is a truly great film. Released in 1942, at the height of the war and the beginning of America's involvement in it, Casablanca is about subtle manipulation, of men and mind. Image takes second stage to the quick, double-entendre dialogue, so much so that (at least for me) there are few memorable visuals, but entire chapters of memorized lines that, from the film's inception, became absorbed directly into the collective conscious. Watching the film again is like reading a historical narrative of the English language. Besides the obvious "of all the gin joints..." or "here's looking at you, kid,"—which nearly everyone knows, but many don't know where they know it from—there's a myriad more: "What is your nationality?" "I'm a drunkard." Or how about "round up the usual suspects." Along with the mass of quotable material, there's the unusual clip of the film and it's subtle wit and ambiguous humanity which we're hardly used to in today's black and white, good and evil world.

So I'll say it again: If you haven't seen Casablanca in a long while, as I hadn't, it's worth picking up and suffering through the tears. Because what remains is an essential glimpse of what Philip Roth would call "The Human Stain."

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