100 Movies Every Catholic Should See #99: Casablanca (1942)

Directed by Michael Curtiz. Starring Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman.

(83 year old spoilers follow)

Why is a film like Casablanca so enduring?

The answer could simply point to the film’s endlessly quotable script, to the engaging tension between two actors at the top of their game, or even Max Steiner’s bittersweet, heavily romantic score. But I think there lies something deeper- something fundamentally Christian- that lies at the heart of this film’s longevity.

In his book, The Restoration of Christian Culture, author John Senior cites the Holy Mass as the pinnacle of culture that for centuries all other facets- including art- stemmed from:

Christendom, what secularists call Western Civilization, is the Mass and the paraphernalia which protect and facilitate it. All architecture, art, political and social forms, economics, the way people live and feel and think, music, literature- all these things when they are right, are ways of fostering and protecting the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass¹

The purpose of art in medieval times was all focused on unpacking the “mysteries” that lie at the heart of the Mass and presenting them to the public in way that would only enhance their encounter with our Lord every Sunday. This ranged from the gorgeous cathedrals which were built to house the Mass, stained-glass windows which depicted scenes from the life of Christ, to works of literature like The Canterbury Tales which highlighted the popular practice of pilgrimage to holy sites (usually churches) in those times. Everything in society was meant to direct the common man back to the Mass and therefore lift his gaze upwards to dwell on his Final End.

One of the key ways that even today art- particularly cinema- has accomplished this even (if not most times) indirectly has been through portrayals of “noble sacrifice.” Viewers- particularly young ones- who encounter such works will have a better grasp on understanding why Christ- God made man- would sacrifice Himself for all of us, an act of supreme Love that we as Catholics encounter again and again each time we participate in the sacrifice of the Mass.

Sometimes this is more blatantly imitating Christ, like the final scene in Braveheart, or it is more nuanced, like the multiple Christ figures throughout The Lord of the Rings. It is a facet of storytelling so widespread you can find it even in the most generic of action movies: studios like Pixar in their heyday were known for crafting effective emotional climaxes to their films that all hinged on this idea of “noble sacrifice” for the sake of love. As Roger Ebert stated in a 1992 retrospective on Casablanca, “I am hardly ever moved by love, but often moved by self-sacrifice”. If only he knew how ironic that statement was.

Humphrey Bogart’s Rick Blaine is certainly far from any perfect “Christ-figure”: he is a cynical man who “sticks his neck out for nobody” and is contrasted by Paul Henreid’s noble Victor Laszlo, a French Resistance hero who would give up anything- even his own life- for the cause of what is right. In the middle of the two of them lies Ingrid Bergman’s Ilsa Lund, trapped in a moral vise of circumstance when she finds herself reunited with Blaine, whom she fell in love with in the time she believed her husband, Laszlo, to be dead. Blaine’s sharp, witty coldness derives from the pain of Lund abruptly abandoning him in Paris when she found out her husband was alive, for years never knowing why she left him on that fateful rainy day.

Surrounding Rick are a cast of characters that either pull him towards or away from the good. Among those that embody these “shadow selves” of Rick are Claude Rains’ corrupt police chief Captain Renault and Sydney Greenstreet’s conniving Signor Ferrari: both represent possible futures for Blaine if he is to remain an aloof, detached man who only claims allegiance to himself. However there are also many characters who depend on Rick, often to claim tickets of passage to escape to America but also for friendship, like Sam (Dooley Wilson), who has been by his side since long before Casablanca. The arrival of Ilsa is the ultimate test of whether Rick will sink into his misery and remain cold for the rest of his life or if deep down he still has some (long dormant) faith in his fellow humanity.

If you haven’t seen Casablanca, the choice Rick makes is one I will not spoil. What I have already written on “noble sacrifice” may have already given you an indication, but the context and the way the ending unfolds must be watched to receive the full impact, making for one of the most memorable denouements in the history of the medium. Casablanca is about the war for humanity, not only on the grand scale of the Second World War, but also interiorly, in the no less dramatic saga of a man who has lost the ability to love and to receive love. The stakes couldn’t be any higher.

There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.

C.S. Lewis, “The Four Loves”

1. Senior, 15-16.