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When Rick Blaine sees the love of his life, Ilsa Lund, at the door of Rick\u2019s Caf\u00e9 Am\u00e9ricain in the 1942 classic film Casablanca<\/em>, he is utterly dumbfounded. The beautiful woman he so loved, the woman who left him at a rail station in Paris years ago, has suddenly reappeared. The cinematic gaze of the camera follows Ilsa as she crosses the room on the arm of another man, just as Rick\u2019s eyes do. It captures the onlookers gaping at her, marveling at just how dazzling she is. From the moment Ilsa enters the room, she is objectified: by the eye of the camera that with choice shots tracks her every movement, by every man in the saloon, and by every individual watching the movie.<\/p>\n The camera in effect turns every viewer into a restaurant customer seated at a table. And the eye behind that camera is a man. Not only is the cast of Casablanca<\/em> almost exclusively male, but the creative minds behind the production are as well. In fact, the three screenwriters and director are all men, as are the cinematographer and film editor.[1]<\/a> The plot and the historic timeline that it follows reflects stereotypically masculine concerns: war, duty to country, and freedom. Every decision-maker depicter, regardless of his political affiliation, is a man. All viewers, both male and female, are forced to see the world of Casablanca<\/em> through the eyes of a man \u2013 the lens of a masculinized camera.<\/p>\n The gendered viewpoint that the film adopts is very much indicative of the time period in which it was produced. The manpower of Hollywood cinema, especially in the 1940s, cannot be overstated. The movie itself features three female characters in prominent roles (Ilsa, Yvonne, and Annina Brandel), and several other woman in ancillary roles.[2]<\/a> The camera portrays these women literally in a different light than it does the men: they are more brightly lit, without shadows, and very often in soft focus. Both in her entrances into scenes and in her conversations with other characters, Ilsa maintains the attention of the camera; in several instances the lens remains fixated upon her even when she is not speaking.[3]<\/a> When the female singer performs in the middle of the caf\u00e9, she is in the center of the camera\u2019s shot.[4]<\/a> She is illuminated, while the saloon audience is relegated to the shadowy periphery. The perspective of the film audience parallels that of the restaurant-goers: sitting in the dark, grouped around and staring at the singer. This double audience becomes a congregation of Peeping Toms who, from their seats hidden in the dark, watch a woman perform for their pleasure. The female character is implicitly objectified and sexualized; her function in the scene is to be looked at. Her thoughts and perspective are ignored.<\/p>\n This is the crux of Laura Mulvey\u2019s argument as to why female characters are relegated to subordinate roles in film. She uses psychoanalysis to define three distinct \u201clooks associated with cinema: that of the camera as it records the profilmic event, that of the audience as it watches the final product, and that of the characters at each other within the screen illusion.\u201d[5]<\/a> She contends that Hollywood\u2019s editing style, known as continuity editing, harms us as viewers. It controls our viewing with its coercive close-ups, forcing us to focus on whatever the camera, and its operator, so choose. And since the chosen perspective is that of a male, Mulvey suggests that most films celebrate masculinity over the feminine, and portray women only as men perceive them rather than as they truly are. According to her, the only choice left to a woman watching such movies is \u201cto identify with figures relegated to inferior status and silenced.\u201d[6]<\/a> If Hollywood productions such as Casablanca<\/em> are so hopelessly misogynistic, is there an alternative?<\/p>\n One possible answer lies in the conception of the \u2018woman\u2019s film.\u201d[7]<\/a> Molly Haskell argues in her volume From Reverence to Rape<\/em> (1973) that \u201cfemale actresses of the 1930s and 1940s\u201d had some roles that \u201coffered images of intelligence, forcefulness, and personal power, far surpassing roles of actresses in later films.\u201d[8]<\/a> After its peak in the \u201830s and \u201840s, Haskell believes that \u201cwoman\u2019s film\u201d became less prevalent because men felt threatened by women holding positions of power, either within or without film.[9]<\/a> Ilsa, the female lead in Casablanca<\/em>, does not present the image of intellectual potency that characterize the women of Haskell\u2019s \u201cwoman\u2019s film,\u201d nor does she wield any sort of power. She is even incapable of making her own decisions. When Ilsa professes her love to Rick and confides in him that she cannot decide what is best for her, she tells him: \u201cYou have to think for both of us.\u201d[10]<\/a> It is the man who then makes the choice of duty over love. Yvonne is a hapless one-night-stand who Rick simply casts aside without any concern. The newlywed Annina Brandel is just as powerless. She imagines that sexual favors are the only tools by which to change her destiny. When she pleads Rick to help her and her husband, the camera gravitates to her face. Film viewers are then able to see exactly what Rick sees: a beautiful young woman. Is this the reason he takes pity on her, helping her husband win money on a game of roulette? One cannot be certain, but the film certainly offers this possibility. All of the supposedly prominent female characters are essentially irrelevant and subservient to the male-driven plot.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.monologuedb.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/04\/Ingrid-Bergman-Ilsa-Lund-Casablanca.jpg\")
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