Appreciating *Casablanca*

A guest post by Dan Klein

Tyler Cowen recently rewatched Casablanca on the big screen, and ended up concluding that “Rick was wanting Ilsa to suffer as much as possible.” Recurring Bet On It writer Dan Klein begs to differ in today’s guest essay.

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My old friend Tyler Cowen wrote a blog post sharing his view of the 1942 film Casablanca. The film was directed by Michael Curtiz and the screenplay was written by the brothers Julius and Philip Epstein and Howard Koch. I will expound on the film, taking for granted familiarity, even obsession, with it. I come back to Tyler’s post later.

Let’s confess that the plot of Casablanca involves the unrealistic premise that the Nazis or Vichy officers do not dragoon Laszlo on the spot. Likewise unrealistic are the legal niceties of the letters of transit. At the end of the movie, the Nazi boss Strasser is ready to stop the plane and shoot to kill, belying the premise.

Another key premise is, in the flashback, the limited knowledge that Rick has when departing Paris after he and Ilsa fall in love. It’s plausible that Ilsa could not have told Rick about her being widow of Laszlo. A more serious problem is that, having told Rick that she was a widow, though not of whom, there is no clear reason why she should not have told Rick, either in person or in the good-bye letter, that, before their last day together, she learned that her husband is not dead after all, and that she must let Rick go. There are four plausible explanations: She could not bear to break his heart in person, she feared she’d weaken and fail to let Rick go, she was afraid she’d spill about her husband’s identity, or, as she says later, she feared Rick would stay and be nabbed by the Gestapo. Still, it seems more natural for Ilsa to have been frank with Rick about learning that she was, in fact, not a widow.

Practically all movies involve at least one unrealistic premise. We suspend disbelief, especially for great movies, because they are morality plays. They inspire. Elements are symbolic. The premise of not dragooning Laszlo and the legal niceties symbolizes that even Nazis and their quislings and gaslighters are constrained by what C.S. Lewis called the Tao—natural law, the Force, God. The fundamental things, which apply as time goes by.

Moral edification is always about learning to use the Tao to become more virtuous. Great movies help us with upward vitality.

The film is saturated with the reverberation of upward vitality. Virtue has its rock in Laszlo. He is saintly and serves as foil to the embittered Rick. Virtue inspires upward vitality in Rick and in Ilsa, from Laszlo. Before Laszlo arrives, Rick is already impressed with him by reputation. Rick, it has been said, “has the best character arc of all time.” Ilsa too reverberates with Rick, especially when she justly calls him a coward and weakling. When Ilsa tells the coward he is a coward, here is his facial reaction:

And then Rick learns that, before their last day in Paris, Ilsa had learned that her husband was not dead and had escaped. Being called a coward, a weakling, and seeing the honorableness of Ilsa’s conduct throughout, that is when Rick’s turn really begins. It really begins with the facial reaction shown above. The path upward begins to clear.

And, in the very final moments of the film, after Laszlo and Ilsa have departed on the plane, Rick’s upward vitality reverberates to Renault. The rat Renault had tipped off Major Strasser, yet, like Darth Vader, Renault turns at the very end, by covering for Rick rather than having him arrested for having plugged Strasser. Together Rick and Renault foil the Nazis and overcome bitterness in the case of Rick and depraved toolhood in the case of Renault.

A beauty of Rick’s character arc is that—again I borrow from the man behind Moviewise—Rick’s upward potentiality is remarked upon in advance by Laszlo and by Renault; we watch Rick gradually stop pretending that he doesn’t care.

Two salient aspects of the movie are its maleness and its Americanism.

By maleness, I mean that agency and upward vitality are chiefly in men. Ilsa shows daring when she pulls a gun on Rick and calls out his cowardice, but there is not much growth. Her conduct is honorable throughout except for one question mark that hangs over her doings: Her intention at the end to stay with Rick and to see Laszlo fly off alone.

Other women have admirable moments. The Bulgarian wife—a figure of higher intelligence—explains to Rick that she is prepared to prostitute herself to gain passage for her and her husband; admiring her courage, Rick despairs blankly: “Nobody ever loved me that much.” That is, Rick laments that no woman ever loved him enough to prostitute herself for the sake of their love. And then there is the guitar lady who bravely belts out La Marseillaise. But these are minor roles and we do not see dramatic growth in the women.

In turmoil, Ilsa demurs to Rick: “I don’t know what’s right any longer. You’ll have to think for both of us, for all of us.”

Exactly. Rick must think for all of us.

Rick replies: “All right, I will.” Higher intelligence.

As woman characters in movies go, the character of Ilsa exemplifies a man’s object of awe and worship. I suppose that it is men who most especially love Casablanca. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Here’s looking at you, kid.

In the matter of gender and the character aspects mentioned above—upward vitality, higher intelligence, and object of awe—let me remark on women as such in a few great movies. Another object of awe is Grace Kelly, unforgettably in her opening shot in Rear Window; but also she is upwardly vital, coming around to Jimmy Stewart’s conspiracy theory and venturing athletically into the murder’s den. Then there is Grace Kelly in High Noon, who in the end puts Quakerism aside and saves Gary Cooper’s skin; she is inspired to do so not by Gary Cooper, but by the higher intelligence of the film, Katy Jurado. Thus, a female higher intelligence inspires a female upward vitality. In The Lady Vanishes, the higher intelligence and the upward vitality are in two different characters, both women. And then there is the heroic vitality of Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday, who learns duty and how to love it and fulfill it. For all three in one, there is Sophia Lauren in Marriage Italian Style, a film that shows that prostitution does not preclude upward vitality and higher intellgence, and those don’t preclude being a man’s object of awe—quite the contrary. And let’s not forget Aliens, in which the resolve of the She-hero pitted against She-evil rings out in six words: “Get away from her you bitch!” And don’t miss Alien versus Predator, for another great heroine, as well as a lesson in lesser evil. Another great She-on-She is The Little Princess, directed by Alfonso Cuarón, a film I’ve seen about a dozen times. And then there’s the higher intelligence of Mary Poppins, also seen about a dozen times. I am eager for grandchildren.

As for the Americanism of Casablanca, it is carried off brilliantly. Rick’s Café Américain is a stew of nationalities and ethnicities. The only Americans are Rick and Sam, who plays it again. Rick the American actualizes higher intelligence and upward vitality. He steps up to assist good in the face of evil. Once the Nazis start singing Die Wacht am Rhein, Laszlo commands the band to play La Marseillaise. They do so only once Rick gives the nod.

And there’s nothing wrong with the Americanism. It’s an American film for an American audience. Of course the jingoistic element is dangerous. The film is anti-isolationist. As the godfather of neoconservatism said: “A great power is ‘imperial’ because what it does not do is just as significant, and just as consequential, as what it does. Which is to say, a great power does not have the range of freedom of action—derived from the freedom of inaction—that a small power possesses” (pp. 83–84). 

American military power and “intelligence” are now a great evil. But don’t blame Casablanca for that, and don’t blame Irving Kristol for his son or the White House “neocons” as they are often denounced. (On the three waves of “neoconservatives” see here and here.) Don’t let the great evils that have evolved since 1942 obstruct the movie’s sound sense of patriotism. It is La Marseillaise that makes the Nazis skittish and prompts them to close down Rick’s Café Américain. That is when Renault declares his shock to find out that gambling is going on.

Tyler’s post is really bad. Tyler claims that “Rick was wanting Ilsa to suffer as much as possible.” That is the claim Tyler tries to justify. Here is how Tyler begins:

When Rick won’t give Laszlo the letters of transit, and Laszlo asks him why, Rick says ‘I suggest you ask your wife.’ In essence he is forcing Laszlo to force Ilsa to confess to their earlier Paris affair in as humiliating a way as possible. Ilsa has to tell not only of the affair, but that she promised Rick eternal fealty, and treated Rick so badly that he now would be so vindictive. (Tyler, 2024)

That Laszlo would see anything humiliating, for Ilsa or for himself, in the whole affair is false. Laszlo has larger fish to fry. When Laszlo, Ilsa, Rick, and Renault sit and drink together in the café, there is no shame and no guilt in talking freely that Rick and Ilsa knew each other in Paris. “I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue.” Thus, immediately, Rick divulged a former intimacy. Laszlo shows no anxiety over it whatever. Nor does Ilsa. Contrary to what Tyler says, Ilsa did not treat Rick badly. And, though she seems to have said back in Paris that she would be with him, she didn’t “promise eternal fealty,” whatever that is supposed to mean.

In the wee hours after Rick’s café is closed down, when Laszlo and Rick confer, Laszlo understands plainly—“Since no one is to blame, I demand no explanation”—and shows nothing but calm and respect—even a tenderness to Rick, a fatherliness. Indeed, Laszlo asks Rick to use the letters to take Ilsa away from Casablanca, so that she would be safe. That Rick shall do so is the pretense, except to Ilsa, of the final scenes. Three people anticipate three different departure scenarios. Laszlo thinks Ilsa and Rick shall fly off; Ilsa thinks it shall be Laszlo alone; and Rick knows that it shall be Laszlo and Ilsa.

Again, Laszlo is saintly. He is not dramatic because there is no becoming, no upward vitality. In real life there are no saints, but in this movie there is, and he’s dull, but due all the regard that someone above us deserves. Laszlo understands that Rick is becoming. By indirection and gentle counsel he helps Rick upward.

Next, Tyler writes:

When Ilsa visits Rick in his room that one night toward the end of the movie, he ‘takes’ her again, and gets her to fall in love with him again, or so it seems. But is Ilsa only acting, and playing to Rick’s vanity to get the letters of transit? You can debate that point, but either way Rick seems happy enough to sleep with her on that basis. That is one of his ways of humiliating her again, and it enables him to be psychologically free enough to let her go in the movie’s final scene. (Tyler, 2024)

“Rick seems happy enough to sleep with her”? One should not suppose that Rick and Ilsa made love in Rick’s office together, which was hardly long enough to catch some sleep. Yes, they kiss—and in mutual confusion and vulnerability. Yes, she drops her head on his shoulder. And she expresses a desire to stay with Rick. But Tyler is saying they made love following the following words:

Ilsa:  I don’t know what’s right any longer. You’ll have to think for both of us, for all of us.

Rick:  All right, I will. [Pause.] Here’s looking at you, kid.

Ilsa demurs to Rick not as in a bedroom scene but as a leader, and Rick accepts that leadership. A case of do or die. In that moment, Rick’s whole manner is an “As Time Goes By” resignation to his duty to use his higher intelligence to think for all of us. All of us. I think of Audrey Hepburn at the end of Roman Holiday. There is no sexual tension at the moment where Tyler imagines love making—indeed, now knowing adultery. Here, Rick’s “Here’s looking at you, kid” especially takes on the benevolent sentiment of the higher spectator. All of us. That is what God wants to be able to say to each of us as we show upward vitality: “Here’s looking at you, kid.” Next the camera cuts to Carl escorting Laszlo into the café downstairs, and then back to the office where Rick and Ilsa are just as when we left them: On the couch, fully dressed, now hearing the stirring downstairs. There is no ‘taking’ of Ilsa. Tyler issues a delusion.

After some interjective word salad to despoil Ilsa, Tyler proceeds:

At the movie’s end, Rick gives Ilsa back and insists she leave Casablanca with Laszlo. What a hell their marriage is going to be. Stuck in America, where neither has much to do, though he lives for his work. Laszlo now knows she loved Rick more, knows she just fell for Rick again and slept with him the night before (women willing to prostitute themselves is a recurring theme in the film), and knows she has been lying to him in various ways throughout their relationship. Ilsa knows these things too, and now knows that Laszlo knows. But what really is Laszlo’s choice or Ilsa’s choice other than to proceed? They end up playing the roles of puppets in Rick’s little planned charade. (Tyler, 2024)

When the history of relationships becomes common knowledge among the three of them, there is no shame, no guilt, no prostitution. Strange tales, Tyler tells. No one becomes a puppet. It is reasonable to think that Laszlo and Ilsa would depart with a just feeling of gratitude to Rick. Ilsa and Rick have recovered Paris, and they shall always have it. The spirit of the two male protagonists is the spirit of eternity, of conduct ringing in eternity, and they together carry Ilsa along in a path that emerges to be sensible to both of them. Ilsa and Laszlo will grow a family and a virtuous life, in America or perhaps back in Europe after the war. Tyler says that neither Laszlo nor Ilsa likely “has much to do” in America. I find that virtue does not want for things to do and does not go stir crazy.

Tyler finishes with the following three paragraphs:

Rick gets to wander off with Louis (‘this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship’), into the Free French garrisons in the desert, facing struggles but also enjoying a true freedom, including a freedom from Ilsa because he humiliated and punished her so much, and because that punishment will be so enduring. He had been waiting around in Casablanca to punish her, and now he really cannot punish her any more. Life can go on.

If you recall the scene where Rick helps the young husband win at the roulette table, so his wife doesn’t have to prostitute herself to get exit visas, we know that the more sentimental side of Rick regards such prostitution as an ultimate humiliation, not as a mere transaction to be digested in Benthamite fashion and then forgotten.

A more Benthamite Rick might have been a happier and better-adjusted guy. (Tyler, 2024)

It is unclear what exactly to make of Ilsa’s preference to stay back with Rick and to see Laszlo fly off by himself. To persuade her to get on the plane with Laszlo, Rick says the following things to Ilsa:

Last night… You said I was to do the thinking for both of us. Well, I’ve done a lot of it since then and it all adds up to one thing. You’re getting on that plane with Victor where you belong… Inside of us we both know you belong with Victor. You’re part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you’ll regret it… Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life… Ilsa,… it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you’ll understand that. (Casablanca screenplay)

At any rate, Ilsa quickly accepts Rick’s decision, and quickly shows herself to be reconciled to it, maybe even glad of it. More than anything else, I think that Ilsa’s sentiments, which remain unclear, after she and Rick make up are what they are for the sake of the plot. The male viewers don’t mind that Ilsa is so drawn to Rick.

Rick then lies to Laszlo about Ilsa’s intentions, and Laszlo knows that Rick would say what he says irrespective of its truth. Laszlo thanks Rick and knowingly offers his hand: “Welcome back to the fight.”

Ilsa’s last words to Rick: “God bless you.”

After the plane departs, a car of police underlings rolls up. There is only one person in Casablanca whom Renault likes and admires, and that is Rick. Rick has plugged Strasser. Here now is Renault’s do-or-die moment. He tells the underlings that Strasser has been shot and to round up the usual suspects. Renault joins Rick. Virtue is catching.

Adam Smith taught that there is no better basis for a beautiful friendship than virtue. Smith wrote: Friendship arising “from a natural sympathy, from an involuntary feeling that the persons to whom we attach ourselves are the natural and proper objects of esteem and approbation, can exist only among men of virtue.”