Some films are etched into the memory not only of a particular era, but of all time. Michael Curtiz's 1943 film holds a place exactly like this; despite the passage of decades, it is reborn and breathes new life into itself with every new audience. During the darkest years of World War II, the cosmopolitan city of Casablanca in Morocco transformed into a transit point. Refugees trying to escape from Europe, espionage networks, authorities acting in the shadow of the Vichy regime and occupying Nazi officers are trying to coexist Decently in this city. The atmosphere is both dangerous and strangely captivating; under the dim lights of a nightclub, fate, politics, and love intertwine. Rick Blaine, played by Humphrey Bogart, portrays the image of a unique, lawless man who stands at the heart of this chaotic world, burying his lost ideals in alcohol. Bogart gave a performance in this role that radically changed the understanding of cinema of the era; Rick, who is neither a hero nor a villain, comes across as an extremely real person with moral ambiguity. Ingrid Bergman, on the other hand, transforms the atmosphere of the film completely with every entrance she makes on stage, blending that unique fragility and elegance in her portrayal of Ilsa. The chemistry between the two is strong enough to be felt, even when most of their dialogue remains silent. Although the film appears to be about a love triangle, at its core it grapples with much deeper questions. The conflict between personal pain and shared responsibility, the question of whether a person can give up what he cares about most, and how war both Deconstructs and transforms people, is embedded in every scene. The film noir atmosphere created by the black-and-white images aggravates these questions even more; the shadows and light games are not just an aesthetic preference, but a reflection of the inner world of the characters. What makes Casablanca enduring is that it touches upon those fundamental contradictions that one cannot avoid confronting, no matter how much time passes. Does love outweigh, or are the values believed in? How much does the past determine the present? The answers to these questions are not fully provided even in the final frame of the film; the viewer takes these questions with them when leaving the theater or turning off the screen. And maybe that's why some movies never end.