J'Accuse Casablanca.

I doubt there’s a person alive who hasn’t seen the classic film Casablanca at least twice, so I needn’t go deeply into the plot. I do, however, need to run over a few salient details in order to make the point.

The film is set during WWII, and the MC is Rick who owns Rick’s Bar in Casablanca. We learn at the beginning that during the escape from Paris, Rick had been separated from his great love, Elsa, and has thought ever since that she’d stood him up. Rick is a bitter man, which is the first indication of his passionate nature. But then, lo and behold, up turns Elsa with her husband in tow – the one she’d thought was dead, thus legitimising her affair with Rick in Paris. Her husband is working for the Resistance (which makes him an honourable man for whom we must have sympathy.) Problem: Rick and Elsa have never stopped being madly in love; they still are, so what do they do about it? They plan to elope together, of course, that’s what lovers do.

Ah, but now that the romantic air is established if not exactly clear cut, Rick shows his true colours. He is a man not only of passion, but of principle as well. He recognises the greater good inherent in the fight against tyranny and manipulates the situation to ensure that Elsa stays with her husband. In short, he sacrifices his own happiness for the cause, and Elsa ain’t too pleased about the outcome either. So is this credible? We’ll, maybe. The problem comes right at the end when Rick, having seen the love of his life disappear forever, puts his arm around the shoulder of Louis, the weasly little acolyte of the treacherous Vichy government, and exclaims perkily ‘Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’ (We’re meant to believe, you understand, that Louis has changed his spots.)

OK, I’ve been in the situation of pushing somebody away for the sake of the greater good – and I’m a man of passion and principle, too. Maybe she wasn’t quite the love of my life – I’ll never know one way or the other – but feelings, on my part at least, were certainly super-strong (still are, actually) and so I have an inkling of what it’s like. The problem isn’t making the decision and performing the necessary action, the problem is living with it. The problem is the long nights of longing that follow, and the empty days in which you feel not only the sense of having a gaping hole to the left of your chest where something’s been torn out, but also the weight of guilt that comes with fearing you might have hurt the lady in question.

So, back to Casablanca. We need to remind ourselves that Louis is the most obnoxious form of predator. He’s the local police chief, and part of the payment he exacts for helping young couples escape the attention of the Nazis is a ‘favour’ from the woman. A reasonable case could be made for having Louis dragged to the nearest table and emasculated without anaesthetic. So are we to believe that such a man would really change his spots? And can we believe that a man of passion and principle like Rick would suddenly take him for best friend as a substitute for the beloved Elsa? I don’t think so, somehow. In reality, I think Rick would either have placed a pistol to his own head, or at least set about drinking himself to an early grave.

The clue, of course, is in the date. Casablanca was made in 1942. Although wrapped up as a love story, it’s actually propaganda, and the ending can only make sense when seen in those terms. I would suggest an alternative ending. Rick first shoots Louis, and then himself. That would make it a true romantic love story.