Casablanca on the Big Screen

In June, The Michigan Theater (in Ann Arbor, MI) kicked off its 2010 Summer Classic Film Series with John Huston’s The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, and it ends next week with Fritz Lang’s newly restored Metropolis, which will feature a live organ accompaniment of the 1927 original score. Between these two films, the theater featured (among others) such classics as Dark Victory, The French Connection, Rashomon, On the Waterfront, The Wizard of Oz (sing-a-long version!), The Graduate, and Gone with the Wind. But I have to say that it was last night’s screening of Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1941) I’ve been looking forward to the most.

I’ve seen Casablanca several times and have taught it in courses like Introduction to Film and Cinema History. But I’ve never viewed it on the big screen, in 35mm. Arriving about 30 minutes before the film began, the husband and I opted for front-row balcony seats. As I’ve written before, The Michigan Theater’s main floor consists of low-pitch seating, which is aesthetically appropriate for its age (1928) but not always the most conducive for unobstructed viewing. In the balcony, on the front row, we’d have few distractions, i.e., no six-foot-tall person to peek around. Unfortunately, this thinking doesn’t rule out the douchebags who sit behind you, whispering audibly — and  quoting incorrectly the famous lines. Idiots.

Still, the experience of seeing Casablanca in a theatre, on a big screen, with an appreciative audience was fantastic. Just fantastic. So many elements of mise-en-scene jumped off the screen in ways I’ve never seen before. It’s almost as though I was watching the film for the first time. In fact, the sheer clarity of the picture is something I wish my students could experience when we watch Casablanca in a few weeks as well as later when we take on Citizen Kane, Rear Window, and Singin’ in the Rain. Although the quality of DVDs today are top notch, it is (as many of us know) nothing like this. Here are a few things I jotted down while I watched:

First, the map/globe featured in Casablanca‘s opening is meticulously defined on the big screen. Unlike the fuzzy shot above (which is how some normally see it), the model globe actually contains nooks and crannies, mountains and rivers. Moreover, the lettering is crisp and legible. In fact, it was this shot, which informed me I was embarking on a very different viewing experience, that prompted me to take notes.

Second, I had no idea Sam’s performance coat was shiny; I’ve always assumed it was white, lit from above by the club’s spotlight. But no, on the big screen, the material is obviously silky, satiny — an extension of Sam’s smooth voice and style.

Third, while I knew the shot was coming, I was taken aback when I first saw Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart). Accentuated by the low-key lighting, the bags and circles under Rick’s eyes, which are not nearly as evident in a smaller venue, immediately and vividly suggest his weary attitude toward life, love, and the war. No mistaking it, here’s a guy whose “insides have [definitely] been kicked out.”

Fourth and conversely, the bags, circles, and low-key lighting mostly disappear during Rick’s Paris flashback; weariness evolves into happiness. Still, it’s still kinda weird — whether on a big or small screen — when Bogart smiles.

Fifth, the three-point lighting in such a high quality print just exudes glamor and classical Hollywood style. The other day, one of my students asked, “When will I know that three-point lighting is used? I mean, will it be obvious?” A portion of my response: “It’s usually rather evident in black-and-white pictures like Citizen Kane and Casablanca.” Ah, if only they’d been in Ann Arbor…

Sixth, in that famous scene in which Rick mopes, “Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine,” the wine bottle glistens so brightly. An important prop here and one of the only well lit items in the room, the shiny bottle beckons Rick (and the viewer) to it. We understand his wanting or needing those drinks; on the big screen, we understand clearly why that wine bottle is placed in the foreground.

Seventh, I noticed how drastically the skin tones of Bogart/Rick and Bergman/Ilsa differ. This is most obvious in the couple’s final kiss in Paris when Ilsa demands, “Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the last time.” On the big screen, Bogart’s tanned, ruddy face/hands against Bergman’s porcelain face/features implies visually what different worlds these two come from.

Eighth, I kid you not; the raindrops on Ilsa’s letter and on Rick’s fedora/trench-coat were so transparent, it seemed as though one could reach out and taste them. On a similar note, would it be too much to ask, Michigan Theater, that you feature Singin’ in the Rain next year?!

Finally, the evening ended with a rousing round of applause after Captain Renault (Claude Rains) delivered the line “Round up the usual suspects.” What fun! And a live organist played the patrons out of the theater with a hearty rendition of “La Marseillaise.”

Yes, Michigan Theater, I think this is indeed the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

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