It
was banned in neutral Ireland, because it portrayed the National Socialists and
the Vichy collaborators unfavorably, but for the rest of the world, Casablanca
was an instant classic. It spawned two very short-lived TV series
adaptations, but no filmmaker has dared remake such an iconic film. However,
success was far from certain during its hectic production. Jewish-Hungarian émigré
Michael Curtiz wrestles with his personal demons and interference from multiple
quarters as he struggles to complete the beloved movie in Tamas Yvan
Topolanszky’s mostly English-language Hungarian film Curtiz, which
starts streaming today on Netflix.
Curtiz
was born Mano Kaminer in Budapest, but he Hungarianized his name to Mihaly
Kertesz and then anglicized it to Michael Curtiz when he arrived in America.
When he started directing films for Warner Brothers, he already had a reputation
as a master filmmaker from his European work—which his ego and casting couch
proclivities reflected.
Casablanca
is
one of about a dozen films in-production on the Warner lot, but it is the only
film the Office of War Information is interested in. That means Curtiz must endure
constant demands and feedback from Mr. Johnson, a government bureaucrat
consulting on the project. Jack Warner makes it pretty clear Curtiz is on his
own, but he is still expected to make another hit. To further complicate
matters, the director’s estranged daughter Kitty has taken a studio job as a
way of worming her way back into his life. Curtiz and the screenwriters Philip &
Julius Epstein cannot even settle on a decent ending. His only ally on the
production is legendary producer Hal B. Wallis, but Curtiz does his best to alienate
him with his diva-like behavior.
Topolanszky
and co-screenwriter Zsuzsanna Bak rather shrewdly chose which of the Hollywood
legends associated with Casablanca to portray on film and which to only
show in shadows or out of focus. Both Jozsef Gyabronka and Christopher Krieg
are really terrific as S.Z. Sakall (Curtiz’s fellow Hungarian émigré, who
played Carl) and Conrad Veidt (who played Maj. Strasser), respectively. Frankly,
Krieg’s turn as Veidt might just change the way you see Casablanca,
which is meant as a very high compliment. The only other cast-member who gets legitimate
screen time in Curtiz is Oscar Reyes portraying Dooley Wilson, but he is
not much of a factor in the behind-the-scenes story.
The
rest of the ensemble is also quite strong, fortunately including Ferenc
Lengyel, who is appropriately imperious yet complex as the man himself. Scott Alexander
Young’s Wallis also gives the film a conscious and a dry wit. Declan Hannigan
similarly deserves credit for humanizing Johnson, at least until Topolanszky
& Bak suddenly and problematically decide to dehumanize in an ill-advised
narrative left-turn.
Still,
Zoltan Devenyi’s glorious black-and-white cinematography, punctuated by brief
crimson red overlays when there is shooting on the set, always saves the day.
You can tell from one look this is a film that was made by people who love
classic cinema and the golden age of Hollywood[land].
As
a film, Curtiz is far from perfect. It is a little too determined to
critique American patriotic fervor and it is not always faithful to the history
of Casablanca, completely cutting co-screenwriter Howard Koch out of the
picture. Nevertheless, the exquisite look and perfectly cast ensemble make it
engaging to watch. Recommended on balance, Curtiz is now streaming on
Netflix.
