Still the greatest, as time goes by...

So, I went to see "Casablanca" tonight at Regal Cinemas West Town, a special Turner Classic Movies-sponsored showing for the film's 70th anniversary.

With one exception, which I'll get to in a minute, it was a great time.

This is a perfect film, a true testament to the studio system, the best American film ever made, with all due respect to the American Film Institute and "Citizen Kane." There is not one wasted word, not one miscast actor, not one flawed scene.

And the crazy part is the whole darn thing was an accident.

"Casablanca" was just another film rolling through the Warner Bros. factory in 1942. The script arrived daily, in pieces, and didn't have an ending. Director Michael Curtiz was great with the cast and terrible with the crew. Ingrid Bergman didn't think much of the film itself.

But a classic it became and, of course, it found an ending, a perfect one, courtesy of the Epstein brothers. Oh, and did you catch that the whole thing is an allegory for American involvement in World War II?

And what a cast -- Bogie, Bergman, Paul Henreid, Claude Rains, Conrad Veidt, Dooley Wilson, Sydney Greenstreet, Peter Lorre, S.Z. Sakall. And that song, that haunting, beautiful song, immortalized by Wilson, you must remember this.

All those money quotes:

"Here's looking at you, kid," and "I'm shocked -- shocked -- to find that gambling is going on here" and NOT "Play it again, Sam." Listen carefully. It's never said.

TCM host Robert Osborne filmed an introduction, telling us the movie was shot for about $900,000. He talked about the script problems and repeated the story (which may indeed be apocryphal) that Ronald Reagan was almost cast as Rick Blaine.

This is the movie that made Bogart a motion picture star. He was tough and he was vulnerable and, yes, he could play the romantic leading man and play one quite well.

Our only unpleasantness for the evening was, again, a disappointing experience with digital projection. Yes, the print looked pristine. But, it kept getting interrupted with occasional pauses and a bizarre flashing message about someone not being authorized to view the film. At least it wasn't as bad as the time I tried to see the documentary "Senna" at Downtown West and the subtitles -- much of the film is in Portuguese -- were cut off.

Say what you will, none of this would have ever happened with a 35mm print.

But, even those annoyances couldn't ruin classic Hollywood's cinematic triumph, a film for the ages, still the greatest of them all, as time goes by.

'The Dark Past' gets inside your head...

Some nights, when the weather is just so and the mind is of a particular temperament, there’s nothing better than curling up on the couch and losing yourself in one of those glorious black-and-white movies from the 1940s. I got lucky last night and sat down to eat supper just as such a film began airing on TCM.

Called "The Dark Past," the film stars Lee J. Cobb as a pipe-smoking psychologist and a very young William Holden as the mentally-troubled escaped convict that interrupts Holden’s quiet weekend at his lakeside cabin. Although a near literal remake to an earlier film starring Edward G. Robinson, this examination into the criminal mind is an engaging little flick. More importantly, it’s a lot of fun.

Al Walker (Holden), on the run from the local police, shows up at the weekend home of Dr. Andrew Collins (Cobb) along with his entire gang. Collins has his wife and young son at the house, along with several weekend guests.

While everybody is held at gunpoint, Collins and Walker engage in a literal and mental game of chess downstairs. Walker pretends to dismiss Collins’ profession. But he’s fascinated.

Oh, and it turns out that Walker is having a recurring dream. He wants Collins to stop it. Witty psychological banter ensues, as well as a bit of adventure that was a staple of these kind of films. It put me in mind of a picture Humphrey Bogart made late in his career called "The Desperate Hours."

No doubt psychologists and police officers would find much to scoff at during this film. I doubt there’s any serious psychology here. But the idea is a good one.

What motivates someone to turn to a life of crime? Is it behavioral? Is it personal choice? Is it both? Is it neither?

But let’s not get too wrapped up in all that. The point of this movie is to entertain, not preach. And entertain it does.

I didn’t nod off the first time, which is more than I can say for most of the modern day, big-budget, CGI blockbusters.

As time goes by...

My favorite cure for what ails you is to curl up on the couch and lose yourself in a black-and-white movie.

I don't know. Something about the simplicity of it all, the nostalgia, the illusion of the Hollywood dream factory in its glory days.

TCM is playing the movie tonight, the granddaddy, the one film that conditions your life, stays with you, makes you remember it long after the credits roll.

This is, of course, "Casablanca," and if Hollywood has ever churned out a better picture, I've yet to see it -- and I've seen a good many of them.

It has it all. Bogie. Bergman. Action. Romance. Dooley Wilson and "As Time Goes By." Claude Rains, Peter Lorre and Sidney Greenstreet.

And, of course, that famous ending.

I've seen this movie at least 20 times over the years -- possibly more. And I never tire of it. It's like an old friend, stopping by to get caught up, after a long absence.

I'll warn you that there's a spoiler ahead, so if you're among the uninitiated who hasn't seen the film, skip over this next part.

But I've often thought that if Bergman stays behind with Bogie, and doesn't get on the plane to Lisbon, this film is forgotten faster than Kevin Costner's last work.

Oh, here's the part where Bergman comes back to see Bogie in the saloon. God, I love this.

Call me crazy, but on a foggy night when you feel like hell, there's nothing better than Rick and Ilsa in French Morocco, finding each other again but realizing that some things are more important than love.

No matter what the future brings, "Casablanca" just keeps getting better and better, as time goes by...

Just like they did in Key Largo...

"We can find it once again, I know, just like they did in Key Largo." --- Bertie Higgins, "Key Largo."

If I ever get out of work tonight, I think I'm going to fix myself something cold to drink (can you believe this heat?) and watch "Key Largo."

Did ya ever see that movie? Oh, it's a classic. Bogie and Bacall. Need I say more?

Bogie plays Frank McCloud, a World War II vet who shows up in the Keys to visit his buddy's widow and father, Nora and James Temple, played by Lauren Bacall and Lionel Barrymore.

McCloud stumbles into a bad situation. Mobster Johnny Rocco (Edward G. Robinson) and his cronies take over the hotel the Temples run just in time for a big hurricane to hit.

All hell breaks loose and Bogie has to help save the day. Definitely falls into the "they don't make 'em like this anymore" category.

If I can get rid of this headache, I might skip John Huston's picture and read Hemingway's "Islands in the Stream." I need to pretend like I'm on the beach somewhere.

Late summer is good for nothing but a trip to some place cool and/or near the water. Since I'm doing neither this month (I'm going to Michigan), I'll have to get there via the green fields of the mind.

Wish I could have seen Key Largo when Bogie and Bacall made this film, or wandered down to Key West during the time Hemingway spent his days writing there, working on the novel that became "A Farewell to Arms."

(If you want to see American prose reach an ever-elusive perfection, read Papa's short story "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place." Brilliant. Simply brilliant.)

Alas, I'm sitting here in my office, situated as close as I can to the fan, fighting a losing battle with the heat.

Could be worse. At least I'm not breaking my back with those guys widening Emory Road.