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Day off. Feeling sick and sorry for myself, set about # movies in my queue. First up: Where's My Roy Cohn.



Woah. Don't think I have the stomach for more.
Finished last night's movie binge by watching Casablanca all the way through, rather than in bits while flicking though the channels on a Sunday afternoon in the 1980s. Full to overflowing with witty badinage, but the plot is surprisingly insubstantial: "Fugitive couple briefly stop in Morocco en route to Portugal," about covers it.

Nobody fills out a trenchcoat like Bogart, but his range is a bit limited - arguably limited to not acting at all, just saying the lines while looking cool. When asked to stretch, what he produces is practically semaphore. As a shallow, dissolute youth I would have identified with Rick, but at my age, I am totally on Team Victor. Much more interesting and naturalistic performance.

Nowhere near as cinematic as I expected. As a film, Casablanca is a good night out at the theatre. It's funny and lovely to look at. Fine craftsmanship; no surprise so many subsequent films look and feel so like it.



See also
Ruben friendica
@Matthew Davidson
African Queen appealed more to me but then I am more of a boat person.