The classic wartime romantic melodrama Casablanca has been tested by time and passes with flying colors. An accidental success of the studio system assembly line, it carries as much weight today, if not more, as it did in 1942. Its poignant and stirring love story is timeless and eternal. The rich and smoky atmosphere and chiaroscuro lighting, the lush black and white cinematography, and main themes of loss, honor, self-sacrifice and redemption in a chaotic world perfectly reflected the dark and pessimistic WWII social climate, and are still perfect seventy years later.
Rick Blaine’s (the unimitable Humphrey Bogart) tough,
cynical, and efficient exterior is an imperfect armor, barely covering the core
of sentiment and idealism. His ultimate sacrifice in the service of something
greater than himself is instantly appealing. He becomes a true romantic hero
worthy of the other characters’ and the audience’s admiration. The emotional
effect on viewers warming in the glow of Rick’s gallant heroism is the thought
that perhaps we too could achieve greatness through great sacrifice. The film’s
ending is not happy, but it is hopeful. True love does not conquer all. It
does, however, elevate its characters to higher levels of humanity. And this
stands at the core of Casablanca,
distinguishing it from the majority of noir films that chronicle the dark side
of human nature, basking in their own deep shadows of gloom and disenchantment.
The movie dares to rise above the dark atmosphere of the war years,
demonstrating that nobility and honor are still alive and well, and run a café
in the unoccupied French province
of Morocco.
***This is a short analysis of the film. It contains spoilers.
