Film #43: Sommarnattens leende (1955)

Title for We English-speaking Types: Smiles of a Summer Night

Director: Ingmar Bergman

Initial Release Country: Sweden

Times Previously Seen: none

Teaser Summary (no spoilers)

Coy lawyer caught in a love hexagon with young wife, maudlin son, sultry actress, alpha male soldier and his frustrated wife.

Uncut Summary (Full plot synopsis, spoilers included. Fair warning)

In turn-of-the-century Sweden, the well established, 50-something lawyer Fredrik Egerman (Gunnar Bjornstrand) seems to possess several greatly desirable things: a prosperous law firm, a beautiful eighteen-year old wife, Anne (Ulla Jacobson), and an intelligent son, Henrik (Bjorn Bjelfvenstam) who is doing well at university.

Despite these ostensible blessings, some troubles are afoot. Anne, while quite vivacious and loving towards Fredrik, she seems to show at least a mild interest in her step-son, who is actually a few years older than her. Henrik himself is a tormented idealist who cannot find the balance between the lofty tenets of his chosen field of theology and his own earthly, carnal desires. He vacillates between quoting Martin Luther and fondling the pretty young house maid. Added to this is that Fredrik's former mistress, the stunning actress Desiree Armfeldt (Eva Dahlbeck) has returned to town to perform.

A very calm and collected Fredrik brings Anne to see Desiree's performance, not knowing that he had previously been muttering Desiree's name in his sleep. Having heard this and understood what it implies, Anne cannot bear to be at the play for more than five minutes before she begs to leave. Fredrik escorts her home, but returns to the theater to see Desiree.

At the theater, Fredrik confesses to Desiree that, though he has been married to Anne for two years, they have not consummated the marriage out of his sense of propriety. His love for her seems more paternal than matrimonial. Amidst some playful flirting, Desiree offers some comfort to her former lover in the form of advice. She then invites him back to her apartment.

At Desiree's apartment, the two continue their discussion of sex and love. Interrupting the talk is the arrival of Desiree's current lover, Count Carl Magnus Malcolm, who is the very picture of Victorian era masculine achievement. He is highly trained, deadly, aggressive, and unapologetically jealous. He and Fredrik have a stare-down in which Fredrik counters Malcolm's full frontal verbal assault with a more coy, passive-aggressive style. Fredrik leaves of his own accord, returning to his home.

The initial confrontation between Egerman (left) and the Count, with Desiree as part of the referee.

The next day, at Count Malcolm's estate, we see that his relationship with his own quite young and exceptionally beautiful wife, Charlotte, is far from ideal. She knows of his infidelity, is powerless to stop it, but is still in love with him, overbearing as he is. She decides to attempt a sabotage by visiting Anne Egerman and revealing Fredrik's late-night visit. All she accomplishes, however, is an affirmation that both of their husbands are being unfaithful to them with the same woman.

An interesting twist occurs when Desiree herself orchestrates a dinner for everyone at her mother's palatial estate. She invites the three Egermans and the two Malcolms, in the hopes of using her wiles to untangle everyone's knotted emotions. Through a plan executed in concert with Anne and Charlotte, Desiree accomplishes a few of her goals, if not exactly in the manner devised.

Most of the key players at the fateful dinner hosted by Desiree's aged but wizened mother.

After a bit of wine during dinner, the tormented young Henrik erupts in a passion and storms off to his room. The concerned Anne faints in his wake and is taken to her room, which neighbors Henrik's. As Henrik laments his fissured mind, he decides on suicide. After tying the rope around his neck and leaping from the high fireplace, however, he accidentally trips a trap mechanism which open a secret side door and sends the bed from the next room into it, and who should be in it but the slumbering Anne? Henrik sees it as fate and the two profess their love for one another. Early the next morning, the two elope while a devastated Fredrik watches from the shadows.

That evening, Charlotte looks to enact her part of Desiree's scheme. She lures Fredrik into a gazebo with the ostensible intention of seducing him. Desiree informs the Count of this, inevitably spurring the headstrong firebrand to charge into the gazebo. He banishes his wife from the gazebo and forces Fredrik to engage with him in a game of Russian roulette. Each man takes his shot, with Fredrik's second shot ringing out, apparently killing him. The shot was, however, merely a load of soot that the Count had used to replace an actual bullet. The Count claims that he would never put himself or his honor at risk for the sake of a “shyster”. Charlotte elicits a comforting promise of fidelity from her husband, and Desiree tends to Fredrik's mild injuries, the two seeming to accept their place with each other.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done after one viewing, before any further research)

No mere plot synopsis can do this movie justice. It's truly comical and its value comes from far more than the storyline.

I've seen around ten of Bergman's 50-plus films, and some of them are a struggle, to say the least. While I enjoyed the more thoughtful, meditative fare like Wild Strawberries or The Seventh Seal, others like the gut-wrenching Cries and Whispers were like being forced to watch a gang of wolverines on cocaine tear each others' throats out. Not fun. With such a wide spectrum of moods and tones, I wasn't sure what to expect from a “comical farce” by the Swedish director. I needn't have worried so much.

With a style that blends the dry wit of Oscar Wilde with a refreshingly modern, earthy sense of humor, Ingmar Bergman constructed quite a film. I can only imagine how bold it seemed upon its release in 1955, but the mature approach to sex and love easily holds its own today. It takes a truly great storyteller to drive a plot using dialogue, and Bergman does it with seeming ease. By shifting the conversations between the various characters, we get a great number of thoughtful perspectives on love, lust and where the two overlap, if anywhere. The feelings conveyed are exceptionally meaty in terms of gravity and circumspection of the human condition.

“I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. Men are horrid, vain and conceited. And
they have hair all over their bodies.”

Lest you think that the whole film is a pack of aristocrats prattling on about love, I need to emphasize the humor, which I think the above quote from Charlotte exemplifies nicely. It takes a little while to really warm up, but once it settles in, it's outstanding. I've already cited Wilde, and I can't help but think specifically of The Importance of Being Earnest; however, Smiles of a Summer Night is much more to my liking. This is because I find Wilde's wit, though razor sharp, to be so rooted in parodying British aristocratic mores that I usually lose interest. In Smiles of a Summer Night, Bergman makes far greater use of wry cynicism and sarcasm. The best examples among the many standouts are the brief tete-a-tetes between Fredrik and Count Malcolm. My only regret is that I don't speak Swedish, and therefore certainly lose some of the effect derived from tones and inflections that are lost in translation. Despite this, the writing more than effectively conveys the humor through the captions.

Here's a clip with the scene between Egerman and the Count. Jump to time 5:00 and give it 3 or 4 minutes of your time:



The characters are brilliantly conceived and translated into the tale. They all are very fully formed and feel thoroughly authentic. Probably the most interesting is Desiree, who seems to me to have a role very similar to the character of Garance in Children of Paradise – the rare female who is completely independent, and in being so, makes herself the object of nearly all men's desires. A key difference is that, while that latter French character is more of a two-dimensional representation of a greater, unattainable ideal of love, Desiree invites much more empathy and respect.

As with all other Bergman films, the technical merits are flawless. Whether you like or dislike a film of his, one cannot dispute that the man knew exactly how to frame his shots, cast his parts, and direct his actors. Smiles is merely a relatively early example of this. It may be in black and white, but the compositions of the settings and costumes is truly effective. While these things are far from the most important elements of the movie, they certainly enhance it for viewers who dig aesthetics.

I imagine that some would probably dub this movie a “chick flick”, and this moniker is probably not unwarranted. However, there is, amid the philosophical musings, plenty here for the thoughtful dude to sink his teeth into: lust, stare-downs, and even a game of Russian roulette. It all adds up to a movie that anyone who doesn't mind foreign films should enjoy. I would also give it a definite go-ahead to any fans of Jane Austen out there.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (done after some further research)

It's late 1955. Ingmar Bergman is sitting on the toilet, newspaper unfurled on his naked knees. He sees a headline reading, “Swedish film nominated for Grand Prix at Cannes Film Festival.” He thinks to himself, “That's good. A Swedish film will finally get recognition. Good for those peers of mine, whoever they are.” It turned out that “they” was actually him. After making about seven films well-received in his native country, but not outside of it, his break had come, much to his surprise and delight.

Smiles was apparently Bergman's coming out to the international film viewing public. While this 1958 TIME magazine review didn't seem all too impressed, this was apparently a minority opinion. It was regarded as the first time the Swedish film master had blended all of his skills and used them to construct a “nearly perfect work”, as Pauline Kiel puts it in this 1961 essay. It was such a commercial and critical success that Bergman was henceforth given free rein to explore every dark and heady theme that he desired. And explore he did, via such films as The Seventh Seal and Persona.

In reading more on Ingmar Bergman in general, one realizes that, while his many films covered a variety of themes, one of his favorites was calling out pretension. In Smiles of a Summer Night, this is most easily seen through two characters whom I really did not cover in the summary or Take 1: the maid Petra and the coachman Frid. Especially at the end of the movie, after we've watched the ballet of emotions, ideal and carnal, amongst the bourgeoisie main characters, Petra and Frid's lustful frolicking seem far more honest, joyful, and pleasurable. Here it is:



Some critics point to the overwhelming number of epigrams throughout the movie, which is quite clear. The dialogue is ripe with one statement after another about what constitutes masculinity, femininity, love, lust, and so on. Still, I found them though-provoking and woven well into the overall story. With the fantastic balance provided by all of the other aspects of the movie, Smiles of a Summer Night is certainly one that I would watch again.

That's a wrap. 43 shows watched, 62 to go.

Coming Soon: Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)


In one of the more radical left turns to be made yet, I go from a turn-of-the-century Swedish farce about love to a McCarthy-era science fiction cult classic. Bring on the pod people!

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #29: Notorious (1946)

Director: Alfred Hitchcock

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: once (about 8 months ago)

20-Words-or-Fewer Summary (no spoilers):

Gorgeous, floozy booze-bag is enlisted by suave G-Man to spy on expatriate Nazi sect in Brazil.

Full Summary (a full blow-by-blow of the plot, spoilers included. Fair warning):

In Miami, former Nazi John Huberman is convicted of treason against the United States. His daughter, Alicia Huberman (Ingrid Bergman) goes home and drowns her sorrows at a small soiree at her home. Present at the party is T.R. Devlin (Cary Grant), whom Alicia believes to be a local policeman simply sent to keep an eye on her. He is, in fact, a federal agent whose task is to survey Huberman to determine if she can help the U.S. government infiltrate a suspected Nazi contingent in Brazil.

Alicia has a reputation of loose relationships and being a bit of a tippler. Upon discovering Devlin's true purpose, she initially turns him away. When Devlin confronts her with proof of her love for the U.S. and hatred for the tenets of Nazism (in the form of a taped conversation with her father), she relents and agrees to accompany him to Brazil.

Once in Brazil, the service's plot is made known: Alicia is to ingratiate herself to one Alexander Sebastian (Claude Raines), a past acquaintance who was friends with John Huberman and loved his daughter, Alicia. Once the false love is impressed, it is to be exploited and Alicia is to reveal anything that she uncovers in her dealings with Sebastian. Complicating things, however, is that Devlin and Alicia fall in love with each other. Yet, the stoic and professional Devlin refuses to allow his feelings for Alicia interfere with the mission, and he allows her to use herself as erotic bait.

Agent Devlin has his first encounter with a tipsy Alicia Huberman

The plan works, but all too well. Sebastian once again falls in love with Alicia. So much so that he proposes marriage. Along with Sebastian's love for her, Alicia also discovers that Sebastian is indeed in the middle of a plot by Nazi German expatriates to somehow reestablish some sort of Nazi power in the world. Despite his discomfort at letting his love further embed herself in such dirty dealings, Devlin and the local U.S. feds allow Alicia to marry Sebastian, in the hopes of unearthing further details of the plot.

Once Alicia is married to Sebastian, they throw a party at which Devlin arrives, posing as a playboy American on holiday, and discovers that the Germans are stockpiling plutonium deposits from a nearby mountain range. Unfortunately, Sebastian later discovers Alicia and Devlin's true identities and treachery. Sebastian and his aged mother, also of fundamental Nazi leanings, then begin to slowly poison Alicia, hoping to quietly dispatch her without further alerting the U.S. agents.

In the end, Devlin figures out what is happening and arrives at the Sebastian estate. He slyly extricates Alicia, finally confessing his love to her as she is in bed, near death from poisoning. Upon leaving with her, he leaves Sebastian behind to face his fellow Nazi conspirators, who now know the full scale of his indiscretions and will presumably "deal" with him. We are left to assume that Alicia will be nursed back to health with her love, Devlin, at her side, and that Alexander Sebastian will be "silenced" by his compatriots.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (done after this most recent viewing, before any research):

Really good film. Probably one of Hitchcock's absolute best, which is saying something.

After seeing Grant, Bergman, and Raines in a few earlier films, Notorious was a great departure in terms of characters. Up to this point in the list, Cary Grant had played some of the more annoying characters to me. Between The Awful Truth and His Girl Friday, I had almost forgotten what I liked about him. Now, with his role as T.R. Devlin, he finally sloughs off the skin of an arrogant sophisticate and plays a far more intriguing character. He's calm, cool, efficient, and every inch the professional spy, with nary a condescending bone in his body. Even in the face of the drop-dead gorgeous Alicia Huberman, who he admittedly loves, he doesn't let his emotions get in the way of his job. You may not love him for it, but there's a legitimate strength to him that I hadn't seen in his earlier roles.

Bergman is another one. Coming off her role in Casablanca as Ilsa Lund, which was a relatively weak character, playing Alica Huberman is a great departure. In her very first scenes, she's drunk as a skunk and buck wild. She promptly gets rough with Devlin, who only subdues her with a few quick judo chops and a pinch to a pressure point. She has real fire and shows even more acting skill, convincingly playing a woman transitioning from being a "notoriously" loose Jezebel to a person of great conviction, courage and ability.

Here's a great scene in Brazil which exemplifies everything that Bergman and Grant do well in this movie - tease each other with surgical precision. The first full 5 minutes is well worth watching:



Those last few minutes really skirted the Puritanical movie codes of the day.

Raines does a similar chameleon act. As Captain Renault in Casablanca, he was an eminently lovable rogue. As Alexander Sebastian in Notorious, however, he does a fantastic turn as a semi-suave yet contemptible Nazi. Just as his key role to complete the triad of classic characters with Bergman and Bogart in Casablanca, he does the same with Grant and Bergman in this Hitchcock standard.

The story is perfect for Hitchcock's direction. While the initial romance between Devlin and Alicia is a touch rushed in the early going, it never feels essentially unnatural. It's certainly not hard to see how they fall for each other. It's also balanced beautifully and woven into the espionage tale masterfully. The emotional power is as much left to careful glances and gestures as it is to the occasional outbursts of charged dialogue between Grant and Bergman. These things elevate this tale far above a mere suspense yarn or even an adventurous romance.

The only parts that seemed a bit out of whack to me had to do with timing. One was the aforementioned budding romance. While the characters have been together for over a week (a reasonable time for love to bloom), we viewers have had about 10 minutes with Devlin and Alicia. It was ever-so speedy to me. The other moment is at the end, as Alicia lies on her deathbed and Devlin comes in to rescue her. As he finally breaks down and opens his heart to her, my eyebrows gradually furrowed as a wondered, "has this guy forgotten that there's a cabal of murderous Nazis lingering downstairs?!" It was obviously a necessary scene, but stood out as a bit forced amidst an otherwise masterfully paced movie.

While Hitchcock had already done several very well-received movies by 1946, this may have been his strongest to that point. The exotic locale of Brazil made a great backdrop, and the opulent setting of the Sebastian estate create a great sense of place. Hitchcock always made great use of location, and his eventual use of color would dazzle in films like Vertigo or North By Northwest, but the black-and-white scenes in Notorious are just as striking, if in a more subtle way.

I would say that all but the most ardent Alfred Hitchcock or Cary Grant haters would love this movie. It's engaging and unique, and yet another classic film that has spawned endless imitation attempts (really, James Cameron's True Lies, while entertaining, is just a modified, high-octane, lesser rendition of Notorious). For the real deal without the gunfire or body count, go back to this all-timer.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (done after some further research):

Plenty of good analysis of this film out there. Hitchcock has obviously been one of the most accomplished, celebrated, and prolific filmmakers in history. Any film fan worth his or her salt can pick out one or two favorites, and it seems that Notorious regularly makes the top 2 or 3 for most film aficionados. And yet, it seems to me that it is less famous than Hitchcock standards like Psycho, The Birds, North by Northwest, or even Vertigo. Why?

Those others had certain shock value to them, and this really interesting essay by William Rothman points out several things, foremost perhaps that this film was virtually the last "optimistic" Hitchcock movie. Coming in the middle of his career, it seems that he hit his stride as a storyteller and director, and he melded the dark aspects that were his hallmark with a more palatable ending for a wider audience.

Rothman points to the relationship between Devlin and Alicia as "perverse," which is true. They constantly torment each other, and not playfully. Devlin all but dares Alicia to run into the arms of Sebastian, just as Alicia willfully plays up her reputation as a drunken tart. Both of them seem to relish the opportunities to torture the other out of some sense of twisted attraction. Before Rothman's essay, I hadn't really considered it, but he seems right on.

One of the really intriguing things to arise from this movie is "The McGuffin," which has become a byword in film. The McGuffin can be defined as the thing that the plot and characters revolve around, in the case of Notorious, it's the wine bottles (filled with uranium, we later discover). Hitchcock coined the term and explained how the actual form of the McGuffin is not important, as long as we sense its importance to the main characters. Hitchcock used the device many times, but other modern examples would be the briefcase in Pulp Fiction, "The Formula" in The Spanish Prisoner, or even "unobtainium" in Avatar. I've always liked the enigma behind these vague objects, and now I know from whence they came.

An additional point about the McGuffin in Notorious - the plutonium. At the time of Notorious's release, the ins and outs of atomic weaponry were far from common knowledge. The fact that Hitchcock and the filmmakers used it as a focal point got the attention of more than one security official in the U.S. They were investigated as to where and how they had learned that plutonium was a key ingredient in the making of such a devastating weapon. Curious, no?

One final note is the original TIME magazine review. It indicates how successful the film was, even back in the day. I particularly like the writer's little jabs at how clumsy Alicia and Devlin are when it comes to the key and the wine bottles. Check out their last paragraph for a few good laughs. Here's the scene the writer was referencing:



All analysis just reinforces what a pillar this movie is in the halls of suspense film. A few more Hollywood studios might do well to study it and try to better emulate its careful fusing of elegance and simplicity to create an incredible piece of work.

That's a wrap. 29 down. 76 to go.

Coming Soon: It's A Wonderful Life (1946):


It's Christmas in June!! It's going to be weird watching this, since it's about 90 billion degrees outside here in eastern PA, but maybe Jimmy Stewart and Zuzu can take my mind off of the heat.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #24: Casablanca (1942)

Director: Michael Curtiz

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: 4 or 5 (last seen about 6 months ago)

20-Words-or-Fewer Summary (no spoilers):

Jaded club owner/ex-mercenary is reunited with past love, wife of underground Nazi resistance movement leader. Romance and adventure ensue.

Full Blow-by-Blow (a detailed summary, with spoilers. Fair warning):

World War II has completely erupted and the Axis is steadily marching through Europe. In the Moroccan city of Casablanca in northeast Africa, hordes of refugees are scrambling for freedom and desperately searching for ways and means to escape from the carnage. Casablanca is now a city filled with expatriates, rich and poor, and scoundrels looking to take full advantage of their desperation.

One semi-safe haven is the swinging night club Rick's Cafe Americain, run by American expatriate and former soldier-of-fortune, Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart). Rick is a world-weary man who seeks nothing more than to operate a viable club, clearly stating that he won't "stick his neck out for nobody." Despite this callous decree, Rick is a man who has a hidden soft spot for those he sees as decent people, and who privately despises the Nazis and their fascist ideals.

The four main players, left to right: Rick, Renault, Lazlo and Ilsa

One night, local scumbag Ugarte (Peter Lorre) shows up in Rick's, asking him to stash two exit visas, exceptionally valuable commodities in Casablanca, that Ugarte has stolen from a pair of Nazi couriers whom he has killed. Rick agrees, but Ugarte is promptly seized and killed trying to escape. Overseeing the action is the local corrupt police chief, French Captain Renault (Claude Raines) and newly-arrived Nazi Major Strasse. Strasse has arrived to find and contain escaped resistance leader Victor Lazlo, a Czechoslovakian who has suffered in a concentration camp, escaped, and continued to fight for freedom from Nazi rule.

Lo and behold, Lazlo appears, and he's not alone. With him is his beautiful wife, Ilsa Lind (Ingrid Bergman). When the pair show up at Rick's, the normally stoic Rick sees Ilsa and slips into a deep, depressive reverie. After being cordial to Victor and Ilsa, we learn that, prior to arriving in Casablanca, Rick had fallen in love with Ilsa in Paris just before the Nazis rolled in and took over. Rick had planned to flee Paris with Ilsa, but was left standing at the train station with his piano-playing comrade, Sam, and an extra train ticket. Devastated, Rick flees, not knowing what became of his love.

In modern Casablanca, Rick's heart has become hard. When Ilsa and Victor ask for his help in acquiring exit visas, he refuses, despite having the visas stolen by Ugarte. Ilsa eventually reveals that, when she and Rick were together in Paris, she was still married to Victor, though she had then thought him dead. Shortly before Rick's flight from Paris, she had learned that her husband still yet lived, and she abandoned Rick to return to her husband. Even this revelation seemingly fails to move Rick.

As Major Strasse tightens the noose around Victor, he and his wife become more desperate. Rick cooks up a scheme by which he plans to use the two exit visas for himself and the now exhausted and complicit Ilsa, apparently to leave Lazlo to the mercies of the Nazis. However, when all of the different forces converge on an airstrip, Rick offers a final surprise: he gives the visas to Ilsa and Victor and gets them on a plane, granting them their freedom. To boot, he guns down Major Strasse, a terribly severe crime that is overlooked by Captain Renault, who re-embraces his own past convictions. Victor and Ilsa fly away into the night, and Rick and Renault saunter off to who-knows-where, to fight for the Allied cause in even more distant lands.

Love and ideals conquer all.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (done after this most recent viewing of the film, before any research):

Citizen Kane may be the most innovative and artistic work in the history of major American films, but Casablanca is the absolute pinnacle of what mainstream Hollywood can ever achieve in terms of storytelling. I can't think of a movie that has a tighter script, more memorable classic lines, and as solid a cast as this all-timer.

At the very start, things are a touch droll. During the initial scan through the city, we are treated to various scenes that convey the sense of wonder that is the thrumming populace. For the first five minutes or so, we see people getting robbed, suspected refugees shot, and even a young woman looking up at a departing plane and, dreamy-eyed, declaring, "Do you think we'll be on that plane one day?" Such a cheese-tastic line almost had me wondering just why I like this film so much.

Then, a reverse of my The Lady Eve experience occurs.

That film had an amazingly strong beginning, then faded significantly as it went along. Casablanca just gets better and better as the story unfolds. Every major and minor character is memorable, right down to the bartender in Rick's. Every scene and line of dialogue advances the story or reveals something essential about a character. And yet, despite the film being an economical hour and forty-two minutes long, it at no time seems rushed. There are quiet, ponderous moments, just as there are moments of high intrigue and suspense. The cocktail is mixed so perfectly that you don't even realize that you're being intoxicated until you've got that stupid grin on your face.

The lines. Those who haven't seen this film may not realize just how many classic lines come from this movie. When I first watched it back when I was about 21 years old, my initial thought was, "Man, that line was another cliche." Shortly after that first notion, I realized that this movie was the source for all of the cliches:

"Play it, Sam." (there is no "again," as some may have you believe)

"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine."

"Here's looking at you, kid."

"Round up the usual suspects."

"Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

There are plenty more, including this favorite gem of mine (sorry there's no clip, just the link):

"I was misinformed." Just count how many great lines are in this 2:30 bit of the film.

In between all of these more renowned lines are tons of others. Throughout nearly the entire film, I was smirking at the clever digs and cynical observations of everyone involved. The true stars of the show, though, are Humphrey Bogart and Claude Raines, who get the best lines and deliver them masterfully.

More needs to be said of Bogart and Raines. The other actors are excellent, including Bergman, Henried, Lorre and the others. However, when Bogie shows up as Rick, he becomes the stuff of legend. His weary hangdog face, subtle gestures, one-of-a-kind voice, and effortless delivery are cinematic platinum. His sarcasm is authentic and timelessly funny, his anger is intense, his depression is heart-rending, and his compassion, though sparing, is wholly redeeming. I can't possibly imagine any person playing the role as well, and no actor has filled the slot left in Hollywood once Bogart left.

Raines is the sleeper of this one. Though not as prominent as Rick, he's the character whose scenes you're waiting for. While he's mostly comic relief, like most of the characters aside from Ilsa, Victor, and Major Strasse, Raines is far superior to them all. His officious posture and self awareness as a playfully corrupt official are as entertaining and unique as they come. He's slimy, to a degree, but one whom you know has a good heart buried under all of that manicured vice. He and Rick pairing up at the airfield and heading out to unknown horizons on the war front is arguably the greatest ending a Hollywood film has ever had.

Here's one of Renault's greatest lines:

Of course, in addition to all of this is the time when the film was released. The U.S. had just seriously committed to engagement in WWII, so the collective emotions of the nation were focused on the goings on in Europe and northern Africa. If you keep in mind the uncertainty of things in those years, the film's story of love and hope becomes far more potent. As great as it is today, I can only imagine how much better it would have been to see it back in 1942.

There it is. With Casablanca, you arguably get: the greatest tale told in film, some of the greatest characters in film, the greatest lines in film, and the greatest ending in film. These things are the reasons that people have been trying for nearly 70 years to match Casablanca in terms of smoothness, tone, characterization, dialogue, and storytelling. Long before Steven Soderberg went at it, many have tried and come close, but none have matched it, in my view.

If you haven't seen this film yet, you only have two choices: watch it immediately or renounce any claim as a movie lover.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (done after some further research):

As with Citizen Kane and other mammoths of film history, Casablanca has been studied and critiqued endlessly, if not for exactly the same reasons. It's a fascinating film since, while it can be called "sophisticated hokum," as one of the original script readers put it, there's a timeless charm that is exceptionally rare, though not elusive.

While the casting went through many iterations, one stood out to me. The Rick Blaine character was originally to be given to...are you ready? Ronald Reagan. Oof. I really can't get my mind around that one. I know Reagan had some clout back then, but anyone who's seen this movie can see why my eyes go wide when I consider this.

Another fairly interesting fact is that World War II itself indirectly (as well as directly) contributed to the greatness of Casablanca. Many of the supporting actors were themselves real refugees who had been prominent actors in their home countries, such as Germany, Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia, and others. This goes a long way to explaining why even the bit parts are so well played. I was a bit surprised at how dismissive the original TIME review was in regards to Raines' Captain Renault character. Bush-league?

In learning about the story and script I picked up that, in the film (it was adapted from an unproduced play called Everybody Comes to Rick's), Rick's background is left intentionally vague. In the play, it is revealed that in America, he was a lawyer with a wife and children. By omitting this, and only filling in the occasional detail about Rick's past fighting against fascist regimes, we're left with a more mysterious figure. To me, this is a fantastic example of skillful story editing.

Director Michael Curtiz was hailed as one of the great directors of his day. The surprising thing is that, apparently, he was not much of a "story" man. So much so that one writer explained that Curtiz didn't get along with writers and couldn't talk to them because, "He didn't know what the hell we were talking about." Rather, Curtiz was a master of scenes and working with actors. He may not have been able to create or adapt and tale, but once you gave it to him, he knew exactly how to translate it to film.

Something that I totally overlooked in my first take was the music. I think that this is because it's such a part of the fabric of the movie that I didn't give it much thought. It is excellent, and of course the song "As Time Goes By" is just as memorable as any of the classic lines of dialogue. Intriguing is the fact that the original music director didn't like the song, but wasn't able to find an alternative in time for the film's rushed release. I guess he had to eat a little crow on that one.

All of this is the slenderest tip of the iceberg of study that can be done on this movie. As opined above, Casablanca is not a masterpiece of high art or the culmination of genius. This film is not the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Rather, it's more like the most superbly crafted wooden chair. All of the pieces have been carefully carved and fit together just the way that they need to. You can sit down, lean back, run your hands over the supply curved arms, relax and marvel at how such a seemingly simple thing can be so rare and enjoyable. While it's perfection may invite overanalysis, there's no real need - just enjoy it.

Greatest ending ever? If not, it's in the discussion:

That's a wrap. 24 shows down. 81 to go.

Coming Soon: Double Indemnity (1944):

Number 3 in the 1-2-3 combo of some of my favorite films is this film noir classic. Barbara Stanwyck makes her third appearance of TIME's list, this time as a true femme fatale. I'm all geared up for another viewing of this back-stabbing, double-dealing yarn of lust and betrayal. Good, clean fun.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.