I think one of the most significant strengths of Casablanca, one of the few universally canonized films, is its simplicity. Adapted from a stage play that was never produced, it's not commonly known for its Great Cinematography, a term usually (and erroneously) applied only to movies with wide, expansive vistas (Lawrence of Arabia, Out of Africa), tilted camera angles (Do the Right Thing, The Third Man) or ultra-crisp, carefully lit photography (Laura, A Man and a Woman, the films of Michael Mann). Arthur Edeson's work in lighting and blocking is utilitarian in such a way that it doesn't call attention to itself. Michael Curtiz's staging is equally functional and efficient -- it's neither hurried nor leisurely. And the screenplay, assembled in a piecemeal, quite extemporized manner that would easily be the bane of a movie not made under Casablanca's ideal circumstances, tells a story that is complex without being convoluted, easily understood without being trivial, patriotic without being self-righteous and universal without seeming to bear the weight of its significance.
             It also helps to watch Casablanca if you know what it's like to be or to have been in love, to have felt rejection, and especially to have felt torn between love and principle. Whether you're a man or a woman, this movie has an appeal that's difficult to deny. There are other things, too. Rick (Humphrey Bogart) runs a bar in the eye of an international storm called World War II, and not only is he cool, but he couldn't care a whit about the half dozen uniformed authority types that he mingles with from day to day. He has the means and the justification to be self-centered and self-sufficient, especially when, given the state of world affairs, it was the safe way to go.
             The first time I saw the film was four or five years ago, less for the joy of having an enjoyable movie experience, more to see what the big deal was about. That is, for the record, the w
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