Discussion: Casablanca
There is more to Casablanca than a tragedy of two lovers torn apart by circumstance in the midst of World War Two. Written and released during the war itself, almost immediately after the territories of Unoccupied France were invaded and taken over by the Third Reich, Casablanca is a commentary on what war does to a human being, what life was really like in 1940s America and abroad, and the importance of patriotism despite incredible odds.
Patriotism in America in the mid 1940s was and remains legendary. With young men drafted into military organizations, women took up their jobs in factories, on athletic fields, and in medicine. Even before the United States entered the war, the citizens of the United States rooted for the home team, so to speak, and this generosity of American spirit is well portrayed in Casablanca. It is particularly evident during the scene in Café American, when members of the Third Reich stand to sing their national anthem and are over-taken by citizens of Unoccupied France singing their own triumphant melody, washing over the horrors of Hitler’s regime with instant images of the French Revolution of 1749. While they have not taken up arms against their “guests” from Germany, the patrons of Rick’s café fight the battles that rage in Europe with an unparalleled courage. This patriotism, so important to the spirit of America, is captured well, and was easily relatable to American audiences.
Perhaps most peculiar throughout Casablanca is the portrayal and back-story of Rick, the cynical owner of Café American. He’s rude and abrupt, a smoker, drinker, and gambler. Constantly, he repeats the phrase “I stick my neck out for nobody,” implying his general hatred for the rest of humanity. Early in the film, we’re exposed to Rick’s dark past. He’s an expatriate, kicked out of his own country for some kind of offense that we know nothing about. He sold guns to the Ethiopians, and did something in Paris, as Major Stausser points out, but no one is sure of what he did, or why. Rick is, in essence, the anti-hero, perhaps a murderer or a thief, definitely a loner with a chip on his shoulder. And yet, as the story continues, particularly following the introduction of Ilsa, we are introduced to a different sort of man. Rick may exude a feeling of general dislike for anyone and everyone, but he is also a self-less individual, ultimately allowing Lazlo to continue his work for the greater good with his devoted wife at his side, rather than taking the girl for himself and throwing Lazlo out of the country, as it seems is his intention all along. Whatever it was that Rick did before he arrived in Casablanca, it seems that his heart is on the side of good, though he’d never admit it to anyone.
Ilsa, the heroine in this film, played by Ingrid Bergman, is in some ways the typical female in a film from this era. But in other ways, she is most certainly a new breed of woman. Ilsa is quiet and somewhat timid, drawn to romantic music that reminds her of happier times, and we often find tears glittering in her eyes or dripping down her cheeks. She has a damsel-in-distress complex, at least to some degree, and alludes to the fact that she is unhappy in her marriage to a much older man with priorities that do not seem to include her. Yet, on the other hand, Ilsa is a married woman in an affair with a swarthy male lead. While he seems less grouchy and sarcastic in Paris, Rick is still a tough and smarmy man, much more so than the political leader of the underground, an attractive and light-haired gentleman. Not only does Ilsa fall for Rick while she believes her husband to be deceased, but when she meets him again in Casablanca, she sneaks into his quarters alone, kisses him when no one is around, and generally cheats on her husband, despite the stony Hayes code. Ilsa is determined, by the end of the film, to escape into seeming paradise with Rick, forgetting her marriage and her husband, regardless of social prejudice. These plans and desires seem to make her somewhat masculine, driven by love, but perhaps also by sexual desires that she does not feel for Lazlo.
All in all, Casablanca violated the conventions of heroism in American cinema. Instead of introducing characters that start out unblemished, face some kind of inner or outer turmoil, and come out on top, Rick begins and ends on a somewhat low note, briefly flirting with the idea of dropping even farther by stealing the wife of a political leader fighting for the greater good. And Ilsa is hardly the woman dreamed about by American audiences. She is far from pure, a widow and thus no longer a virgin, she is flirtatious and sexy, defying conventions to see Rick, alone and in the middle of the night, carrying a phallic weapon that, though she will not use, suggests to the audience that she could do so if she were not in love with its victim. These two characters are not the cookie cutters of Disney theater that one would expect from a film set in such a violent time period as the early 1940s. Instead, they enact a kind of realism that, had the Hayes code been more strict, may have been deemed inappropriate for viewing audiences.
