Café Americain: Casablanca and the Influence of American upon the Outcome of WWII

ILSA: You have to think for both of us. For all of us.
RICK: Alright. I will.

— Casablanca (d. Michael Curtiz, 1942)

Oh, what a romantic—and political—moment. The beautiful Scandinavian woman, speaking on behalf of her European husband, pleads with the hard-bitten American protagonist, begging him to exert power over a situation that has passed well beyond her control—and to think that he actually says yes ! This is the seminal moment in Casablanca, a film that—through its highly suggestive use of dialogue, production design, and diegetic music—creates a microcosm of the world at war, in which America is revealed to be an already-emerging (if initially reluctant) superpower.

The United States of America had remained seemingly aloof in regards to the matter of WWII until the attack on Pearl Harbour on December 6 th finally provided them with the opportunity to 'push the button'. It is interesting to note, then, that while production on Casablanca started in May of 1942, the film itself is set in December, 1941. One can, for this very reason, draw parallels between America's entry into the war, and Rick Blaine's—who is ultimately 'America personified'.

The film's primary location is Rick's 'Café Americain,' and not only is its name rather telling, but its atmosphere too suggests—primarily through the popular music that is played there—that this is a kind of American 'embassy,' and that it's perhaps more 'American' than America itself. This can be said of Rick as well, and his costumes (white tuxedos and creamy trench-coats) are extremely indicative of the archetypal American male that was emerging from American motion pictures—such as The Maltese Falcon (d. John Huston, 1941)—at this point in cinema history. No-one else in Casablanca (save Sam, but only in flashback) dresses in such an obviously 'American' way, and so Rick becomes, in the eyes of the viewer, 'America incarnate'—a vehicle for the nation's initial hesitation towards—and eventual acceptance of—its significant position of power.

With Rick's role within this microcosm having now been firmly established, the politics between him and others can be further explored by the filmmakers. In Casablanca, this exploration is at its most evident in the dialogue, which highlights America's faux-indifference towards and ultimate acceptance of power.

The first half of Casablanca is littered with examples of dialogue that remind us of America's pre-Pearl Harbour stance on the war (which was generally either negative or indifferent). Rick tells Sam that, "I'll bet they're asleep all over America," and he's obviously not far wrong. His part is riddled with lines such as, "Either lay off politics or get out" and "I'm the only cause I'm interested in," which do more than just establish the character's personality, but seek to create a synchronicity of political opinion between him and the United States. The latter part of the picture is also typified by its dialogue, as Rick accepts his destiny, which is ultimately to participate. Two lines stand out in particular: Laszlo's, "Welcome back to the fight," which is decidedly literal, and the film's famous closing line, which is not. When viewed in a political light, Rick's musing over "the beginning of a beautiful friendship" suggests that it is, perhaps, the unity between America and Europe that will ultimately be the deciding factor in the war against the Nazis.

Through its deft use of dialogue, production design and diegetic music, Casablanca is able to create a microcosm of the world at war, in which the political relationships that exist between countries can be both magnified and explored. In focusing particularly on December, 1941, the filmmakers have been able to observe the entry of the United States into the Second World War and (back in 1942, at least) hypothesise as to the impact that this action might have. The final scene suggests the positive ramifications of US-involvement in Europe, and so while the film is certainly not pro-war, it is, quite possibly, pro-involvement. After all, as Signor Ferrari suggests, "Isolationism is no longer a practical policy."