For us, Valentine's Day ended perfectly, watching "Casablanca" at the Bloor Cinema before getting late-night Vietnamese at Mimi in Chinatown east.
As everyone knows I love the Bloor. And especially, I love watching old films that seem to fit the vintage vibe that exists in every detail of that cinema.
This was no exception. We sat in the balcony and cozied-up to take in one of the greatest movies of all time. My PMC (to borrow an acronym coined by film critic Richard Crouse that stands for 'preferred movie companion') had never seen it, which made the night all the more perfect.
I first watched "Casablanca," believe it or not, in the actual city of Casablanca, Morocco, so somehow this movie has extra nostalgic value for me, and I was desperately hoping she would like it. She did.
Although I don't think it's the classic love story that it has been made out to be, it's still a fantastic tale of love and heroism and doing the right thing...sort of.
The movie, starring Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman, is set in the Moroccan port city in the early days of the Second World War, as the 3rd Reich is establishing its grip on much of Europe, including Paris.
The Nazis' advance has forces many to flee to Portugal, in hopes of catching a ship or plane to America. Many of those who couldn't get to Lisbon, however, crossed the Mediterranean and instead travelled across North Africa to French-occupied Morocco, and Casa, the main port city.
That's where we find Bogart's character Rick, proprietor of Rick's Cafe Americain in the medina, or original, walled portion of the city.
Though the entire film was shot in Hollywood in 1942, director Michael Curtiz actually did a pretty good job of re-creating that medina -- it surprisingly looks believable.
Rick, not surprisingly, is tough, gruff and jaded, has a questionable past and looks out only for himself. But all of that masks a heart of gold that every once in a while, makes an appearance. Classic Bogart material, of course.
He has established a pretty decent existence -- we're vaguely told he can't return to America but the reason isn't spelled out -- though the political situation in the city is complicated and tense. The Germans have control of continental France, but not the colonies. They have a presence in Casa, however, as well as political sway, and there's a palpable sense of fear among the expats desperately trying to leave.
But Rick's life and that of his staff, including his piano-player Sam, is relatively simple until Ilsa Lund comes into the picture with her famous Czech husband Victor Laszlou -- a hero for his work in the underground resistance against the Nazis.
Laszlou spent years in a concentration camp for publishing an underground newspaper that discredited the Nazis, but managed to escape and rejoin his wife and the resistance, fleeing from safe-house to safe-house across Europe before finally reaching Morocco.
Rick and Ilsa were lovers in Paris, while Laszlou was imprisoned and believed dead, and the relationship ended without closure for either of them, as the Nazis marched into the city.
"I remember every detail. The Nazis wore grey, you wore blue," Rick laments bitterly when they arrive at his bar.
"Of all the gin joints in all the world, she had to walk into mine," complains a heartbroken Rick, drinking in his own bar after hours. It's one of the many lines in this film that have become part of pop culture. "This is the start of a beautiful friendship," is another, and so is "Here's looking at you, kid."
Interestingly, as my friend Logan pointed out, "Play it again Sam" is a line that has become attached to the film, even though it is never actually spoken in the movie. Weird.
It's also interesting that "Casablanca" has been labelled as a classic love story. It's really not, in my opinion. Laszlou and Lund are desperate to flee Casa, and Rick is the only one who can help, but he's too broken-hearted to do so.
Finally, Lund confesses that her love for Rick has never died, and she agrees to leave her husband and stay in Morocco if only he will help Laszlou escape, vowing she will never leave Rick again and saying lamely "You have to do the thinking for both of us now."
Yikes!
Of course, this isn't the way the story ends. I won't give it away, but while it isn't a tragic conclusion, it certainly isn't a neatly tied-up happy ending either. But it ends in a way that gives this almost mythical love story some creedence as a believable, honest tale about the way people behave when love comes with difficult obstacles.
The film is beautifully cast. Bogart, of course, is brilliant. Bergman is beautiful and refined. Paul Henreid is perfect as Laszlou -- the quiet hero willing to do the right thing at all costs. Claude Rains -- usually cast as a villain, is brilliant as the unscrupulous French police captain, always on the side that will provide the most benefit for him -- but somehow likable at the same time.
Yes, you should see this movie. If you don't, "you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon, and for the rest of your life."
Another classic line from "Casablanca."
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