Wednesday, 24 February 2010

You're Lucky The Bar's Open To You.

Oh, Casablanca. How I love thee.

I'm not going to write too much about this, one of my favourite films of all time, because, seriously, it's been out and about for almost 70 years. If it hasn't been watched yet, it's probably never going to be. BUT GO WATCH IT BECAUSE IT IS BEAUTIFUL.

I'd play it again, Sam, forever. I really would.

And that's coming from someone who doesn't generally like older Hollywood films, because they always strike me as so false. Something about Humphrey Bogart's and Ingrid Bergman's performances, though, cut through me. That's love. It really is. Bogey is cold, Bergman is cold, but they're so warm, so enchanting, so fierce when they break through to their hearts. And they're so mysterious, especially Bogey's Rick. What has he done? Why is he in Casablanca? What the hell does it matter, he's in love again.

Truly, it's one of the greatest films ever made. So many people agree that it's become a cliche, and I'm sure it would be derided more were it not so damned good. But it is that damned good. And better. Black and white, cheesy in parts, racist, probably, stereotyped, of course. This is Old Hollywood, remember. This is during the war. (WWII that is - America has had a lot of wars, hasn't it?) But Casablanca is just about itself, about Casablanca, about an escape, a place away, a place where nothing matters but today and you and me and Rick and Ilsa and Sam and the bar. Even the transit papers don't really matter. It's good times tinged with sadness and the possibility of hope.

It's beautiful. 5 stars and a tear in the eye.

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