If we could identify with the characters in every film as much as we can with those in Casablanca, then cinema, in all of its forms, would be an invincible force of communication. But of course, an accomplishment of such proportions would be impossible, and thankfully so – if it weren’t for the movies that fail, we wouldn’t give the miracles like Casablanca, possibly America’s most beloved motion picture, the respect they deserve.

Casablanca is about a man and a woman who are in love, and must sacrifice it for a greater cause not once, but twice. This idea is extremely intriguing; we can feel ourselves falling in love with either Humphrey Bogart or Ingrid Bergman as they do so on the screen, and our hearts break as theirs do when they must give it up as a contribution towards the defeat of the Nazis.

Casablanca is a part of Unoccupied France; it seems to be one of few, as hundreds of people flee from Europe to come here. The diversity of this dessert town is seen in the opening minutes, with all kinds of cultures clashing together in the crowded streets. Yes, all types of people want to go to Casablanca, but once they get there, all they want to do is leave. What Casablanca offers to them is the chance to go to America., but only one plane leaves the city’s small air strip, and who goes on it is controlled solely by Police Captain Renault (Claude Rains), who fully understands the extent of people’s desperation.

Thousands of people find themselves in Casablanca, and for many, it seems they will never leave. One of them is Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart). He owns a popular café located ironically next to the strip. It’s a popular joint, kept alive by the casino in the back and the music orchestrated by his loyal friend Sam (Dooley Wilson). Rick knows how to hold his own in the corrupt city, keeping Renault, who is fascinated by his mysterious character, tightly around his finger by rigging the roulette table.

Rick is quite mysterious – it’s obvious from the beginning that a scar runs deep inside of him, and his patience with people is minimal. His politics are nonexistent, which makes him trustworthy. His code: “I stick my neck out for nobody,” and yet, he finds himself sympathizing with those in need of help. He even remains loyal to those he dislikes.

We don’t know a lot about his past until the arrival of Nazi Major Strasser (Conrad Veidt). He and Renault inform Rick of the arrival of Victor Laszlo (Paul Henreid), a French revolutionary who escaped a concentration camp years ago and has been on the run ever since. With him is an unknown beautiful companion. The two officers have every intention of stopping Lazlo’s unwelcome influence by keeping him and his accomplice in Casablanca. Rick knows of Lazlo, and is impressed by his work, but he remains neutral.

Then, in one of the film’s most infamous scenes, they arrive. Sam is playing his piano like always, but he shutters when he spots the woman Lazlo is with. It is Isla Lund (Ingrid Bergman), the woman Rick loved long ago in Paris. As the Nazi Occupation began, Rick arranged for their escape, and now believes that she abandoned him – he was left at the train station with their tickets to freedom in his hand, when he got her note. The ink smears as the rain falls on the letter. She recognizes Sam too, and asks him to play the song that she and Rick paired their love to, “As Time Goes By.” He is reluctant, he was instructed long ago to never play that song again, but he does. Rick comes into the room, furious. Then he sees Isla, a look of shock comes over both of their faces.

That night, Rick drinks alone, and as a result, we are given one of the greatest and most memorable quotes to ever appear on the screen: “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

From that moment, the plot is set on Lazlo and Isla obtaining the letters of transit controlled by Renault. Of course with the Germans keeping a close eye over everything, just asking for the letters is out of the question. Rick actually obtained two of them early on in the film from the sleazy Ugarte (Peter Lorre) shortly before his arrest, and now, he can use them to keep his love in Casablanca. And that’s exactly what he does. When Lazlo asks him why he won’t give up him the letters, Rick simply replies “ask your wife.” He will eventually experience a change of heart with which we will forgive him, but in the meantime, this desperate act is the most despicable thing he could do.

Watching this film now, it draws a very important question. Isla Lund’s role is of a lover and an aid to a great man; the question being which man should it be? In the end, when she and Lazlo leave Casablanca, there is no reason why Lazlo couldn’t go on alone. But if he did, it would feel wrong. At the end of the movie, Rick is left on the ground as a martyr, putting the greater good ahead of his own desire. It is a heroic act. A happy ending would ruin the romantic spark of Rick and Isla’s relationship which is the fact that neither of them want to accept: they can never have each other. They are heroes, not lovers.

In short, this film is eternal. Its black-and-white appearance has not aged the way color would, and the witty yet cynical dialogue, which of course is based on the time 70 years ago, doesn’t feel old fashioned. This is a treasure, one that I suspect will never grow tired or worn. Casablanca is why film exists, and as movie watchers, we should always be grateful that it will stay with us.

Here’s looking at you, Casablanca.