Casablanca

(An Excerpt from Scene 36)

 

 [Rick’s apartment. Rick’s Night Club. It is dark. The door is opened by Rick, letting in some light from the hall. A figure is revealed in the room. Rick lights a small lamp. There is Ilsa facing him, her face white hut determined. Rick pauses for a moment in astonishment.]

         RI:   How did you get in?

         IL:    The stairs from the street.

         RI:   I told you this morning you’d come around. But this is a little ahead of schedule. (with mock politeness) Well, won’t you sit down.

         IL:    (as she takes the chair) Richard, I had to see you.

         RI:   So, I’m Richard again! We’re back in Paris.

         IL:    Please.

         RI:   (lights a cigarette) Your unexpected visit isn’t connected by any chance with the Letters of Transit? (Ilsa remains silent.) It seems as long as I have those Letters, I’ll never be lonely.

         IL:    (looks at him steadily) Richard, you can ask any price you choose. But you must give me those Letters.

         RI:   I went all through that with your husband. It’s no deal.

         II:     I know how you feel about me. And I don’t blame you. But I’m asking you to put your feelings aside for something more important.

         RI:   Do I have to hear again what a great man your husband is and what an important Cause he’s fighting for?

         IL:    It was your Cause, too. In your own way, you were fighting for the same thing.

         RI::  Well, I’m not fighting for anything any more, except myself. I’m the only Cause I’m interested in now.

 

       [A pause. Ilsa deliberately takes a new approach.]

       IL:  Richard, we loved each other once. If those days meant anything at all to you ...

       RI:  (harshly) I wouldn’ t bring up Paris if I were you. It’s poor salesmanship.

       IL:  Please listen to me. If you knew what really happened. If you knew the truth.

       RI:  (cuts in) I wouldn’t believe you no matter what you told me. You’ll say any thing now to get what you want.

       IL:  (her temper flaring ― scornfully) You want to feel sorry for yourself, don’t you? With so much at stake, all you can think of is your own feeling. One woman has hurt you, and you take your revenge on the rest of the world. You’re a coward and weakling. (breaks) Oh Richard, I’m sorry. But you’re our last hope. If you don’t help us, Victor Laszlo will die in Casablanca.

       RI:  What of it? I’m going to die in Casablanca. It’s a good spot for it. Now if you … (he stops short as he looks closely at Ilsa.)

       [Ilsa is holding a small revolver in her hand.]

       IL:  All right, I tried to reason with you. I tried everything. Now I want those Letters. Get them for me.

       [Rick. For a moment, a look of admiration comes into his eyes.]

       RI:  I don’t have to. (reaching into his inner pocket.) I got them right here.

       [He has the Letters in his hand.]

       IL:  Put them on the table.

       RI:  (shaking his head) No.

       IL:  For the last time, put them on the table.

       RI:  If Laszlo and the Cause mean so much, you won’t stop at anything. All right, I’ll make it easier for you. Go ahead and shoot. You’ll be doing me a favour.

       [Close shot. Ilsa. She rises, still pointing the gun at Rick. Her finger rests on the trigger. It seems as if she is summoning nerve to press it. Then, suddenly, her hand trembles and the pistol falls to the table. She breaks up, covering her face with her hands. Rick walks into the shot, stands close to her. Suddenly, she flings herself into his arms.]

       IL:  (almost hysterical) Richard, I tried to stay away. I thought I would never see you again … that you were out of my life, the day you left Paris. If you knew what I went through, if you knew how much I loved you ... how much I still love you ...

       [Her words are smothered as he presses her tight to him, kisses her passionately. She is lost in his embrace.]

(Screen play by Julius Epstein, Philip G. Epstein and Howard Koch)