Casablanca

After a hard days work(Yeah, right, I studied Microeconomics), I sat down, and enjoyed yet another one of my birthday presents; Casablanca, which was the second thing gifted to me by Vrinda.

This movie is supposed to be a classic, and to be frank, I'm suspicious of most things that are supposed to be classic. They usually dissapoint, in fact, they usually fail to even have a point. I am reminded of classics like Charles Dickens(Ugh), Gabriel Garcia Marquez and the biggest sham of them all, Titanic.

This was an exception. Casablanca was a brilliant movie, something that I do not think could ever be remade. Like The Godfather, it has elements that cannot be redone, or recaptured. Plus, it's in Black and White, which adds a special dimension. You know how black and white photos can look really arty? Well, this whole movie looks like an artistic black and white photo.
Anyhow, lets get down to it, what makes this movie so special.
Firstly, there is this incredible tension between Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman, the kind I've never seen before on film. You can see the pain in both their eyes, and for every spoken line in this movie, there are a couple of unsaid ones. Its really brilliant.
Secondly, the definition of Smooth and Suave simply must stem from Bogie, seriously, he puts James Bond and other later acolytes to shame. His line delivery is also brilliant, there is this great clipped voice he uses, and there is a lot of dry, sarcastic humour in this movie. Its very strangely British, for an American production, and cast.
Thirdly, great soundtrack, you really do want Sam to play it "just one more time". I'm downloading "As Time Goes By", as I type.
Fourthly, why is it that you don't get beauties like Ingrid Bergman any more? Its not fair, we have a deprived generation, if you can look gorgeous in a heavy trenchcoat, in black and white, with nothing much to show but your face, you've really got something there.
All in all, it was a great movie. Good, sharp script, out of the world performances, and great direction. Yeah, this un makes it to being a classic.
As usual, I shall tell you absolutely nothing about the story, for in case you're a twit like me, and still haven't seen it, I wouldn't want to spoil it for you.

Poetry

For my birthday (God, this is sounding repetitive, but forgive me, I recieved so much), I got a really lovely poem from Sonali, which she has allowed me to share. In fact, she said she would be honoured, and all that.
So here it is, it's really beautiful, if you know why. And no, I'm not going to explain even one line of it.

The Stranger

He comes from another age
with the night sky in his eye
with laughter echoing in his ears
and breakfast on his mind
By day he prowls the streets alone
until the dust of the city bus has cleared
When evenening falls is when
His thoughts decide to take flight
With his purple pink coat of mystery
He tucks me in each night

Minnie mouse with her AK 47
Tap dances her way through life with
mismatched socks for comfort
But someone took her gun away
and how she smiles instead
And every time she falls through
a hole in the road, she
lands in a lively tea party that never stops
With, the Mad Hatter and the Stranger
and a pair of strangely affectionate socks

Part II

While reaching high, and staying thin
Keep the Cheshire smile on your face
And although you may know nothing
of the people marching past
A Nehru Cap will always fix
the too small head(which you do not realise
is your saving grace)
For no one is perfect, and your old man's mind
may be belied by the face and smile of a child
Black hole in your tummy
Juke box in my mind
Singing our weird(but melodic) duet
And through the darkness of the corners of your mind
which I'm sure lurks in the oblivion of our blank screens
waiting to ambush us-
Past the nymphomania of the hapless sock
As Cristina and I lie in an incomprehensible field,
Gazing at an obscure, Impressionist house
While you fly with your purple wings
And instruct the raindrops
On the best way to butter toast