last night we watched casablanca. the city of the "blue parrot" and "rick's" cafe is such a charming place, humming with the voices of european refugees and colonial officials. we even saw a couple at the gambling table speaking cantonese -- though i could not figure out how they might have gotten there, unless they were doing business in europe. how charming, to be on the run but still fashionable, melancholy, and privileged.
moroccans only appear as background; taxi driver is a fairly generous part for them. the biggest speaking part for a local person is the shyster selling lace shawls to ingrid bergman outside the cafe.
i had to laugh at the police commander's last line of the film, as he and Rick are walking down the runway: i hear there is a free french garrison in brazzaville. the unfree colony is still loyally working to free the oppressor!
i wonder if any moroccan filmmaker had tried re-doing casablanca from another angle -- like gosford's park, showing the people behind the scenes of the ruling class' crises.