You know the feeling you get when you meet someone new for the first time that you click with right away, and everything just becomes easy and natural, and conversation just flows from one thought to the next, and you go home feeling as though you just met someone you might have met before but can’t recall when or where or how or with who? That’s how I felt watching Casablanca. Does that make any sense at all?
It’s like…the feeling of coming home to your old bedroom at your parents house. That feeling of comfortable estrangement. Sure your mom may have re-painted it, or moved in new furniture, or installed her stair-master where your bookshelf went, but the room is still yours. All those small remnants that go unnoticed — high school art hanging crooked in the corner, unwanted sweaters taking up room in the closet, boxes of year books stashed under the bed. Your essence is always there.
Anyhow, I loved this film. It made me feel all sorts of ways, none of which I can articulate well — so I’ll just leave you with the best song ever written.