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Yet it has been parodied so often, it’s difficult to understand why the hoopla surrounding the film exists. Here, in the Oracle, I plan to set the record straight on this movie, which shuttled moviegoers to an exotic locale and continues, 65 years later, to stand proud as the finest film ever made.

Casablanca, from its beginning is a rapid-pace, energetic film that is fully grounded in its central character, Rick Blaine, as played by the curmudgeonly Humphrey Bogart.

Bogart, well-known at this point in his career as a tough leading man, plays an antisocial barkeep who spends his days drinking alone on a stool in his Casablanca cafÄ, silently pondering days long ago when he romanced a woman named Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman) in Paris. As is convenient both for the movie and the audience, Bogart’s long-ago paramour enters his life in Casablanca, along with her husband, as both are trying to flee to America to stop the Nazis.

Sound intriguing? This all happens in about the first 15 minutes, giving the audience a roller coaster ride of forbidden love, good vs. evil fights, witty observations, and an airport scene so tense you’ll be fighting the urge to blink. However, several other movies have this sort of intense fight between love and honor, duty and want, the head and the heart.

What separates Casablanca is the way that the movie plays out. This is a film that’s snappy (it comes in at about 100 minutes in length), and doesn’t spend the middle third of the movie throwing pointless obstacles in the way of the two lovers onscreen. Instead, the lovers spend the inner third of the movie reflecting on their past romance, and cavorting with the supporting cast.

And what a supporting cast it is; one of Casablanca’s greatest stealth secrets is that the supporting cast is just as good as the heartbreaking leads. Claude Rains portrays an unscrupulous Nazi who is far more interested in winning at roulette and quipping than he is about the war raging around him.

Peter Lorre is the doomed Ugarte, a role that should have been just a mere plot device but instead becomes a haunting cry that behind the glossy beauty of Casablanca, a war with torment and devastation was being waged. Even Dooley Wilson as Sam (yes, of the “Play It, Sam” fame) is a sad, undefined character that uses his performance and the songs he sings to reflect the beauty of the lovers whose affair he accompanies.

This romance itself is the bedrock of the film, and is far more compelling than most modern movie romances ever aspire toward. Unlike, say, recent romantic comedies like Because I Said So or Music and Lyrics, Casablanca is a film that is more concerned about showing legitimate amour on the screen rather than making their characters quirky and more accessible.

The movie manages to be a riot in parts, as Casablanca’s script is clever enough to put the funny bone on overdrive, but unlike these inferior films, Casablanca has its characters consumed by romance, rather than distracted by it. The movie has stood so well because the undying tragedies of love are so universal, and therefore, the characters are more accessible.

The film was made in 1942, well before the World War II that it exhibits came to a close, and its sense of hope and romance in the toughest of situations deserves the many kudos that it has received. For those fans of film, whether casual or obsessive, who want to see a great movie, there is no other film, of any era, that has the mastery and control of this cinematic landmark. Do yourself a favor, and venture to Casablanca.