They're in Paris, and it's the summer of 1940. The Germans wear gray, Ilsa wears blue, and the whole world is falling to pieces around them. But it makes no difference: they're in love, the piano plays softly behind them, and they'll run away from all the madness together and live happily ever after. But something happens, Ilsa can't make it to the train station... and there Rick stands, with a comical look on his face because his insides have been kicked out.
It's not a wound he'll ever recover from, but it's much easier to attempt to forget, to pretend to move on, than to actually think about her. It's too painful, and it's too pointless. Better to just be aside, detached from the world, drinking, smoking, ignoring.
But fate brings Ilsa back to him, the soft piano with the familiar song reappears, and it stirs up feelings that had been long put away. However, she's not alone: she brings a husband and the load of a cause worth dying for. Two options appear before Rick: stick his neck out for nobody or fight for the world. And Rick was always a hero underneath.
Was it ever really an option to be happy, to keep love? Probably not: the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. But they will always have Paris... and we'll always have Casablanca.
3 comments:
I've always liked Casablanca, but you've just kicked my appreciation for it up ten notches. I'm totally watching it tomorrow!
Brilliant, homegirl.
You know how I feel about this movie... and how I feel about you. That just made my day.
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