I'm an incurable romantic, and Casablanca's one of the most

The words of Ken Adam—“I’m an incurable romantic, and Casablanca’s one of the most romantic pictures I’ve ever seen—the combination of Bogart and Bergman is just magical.”—speak not merely of cinema, but of the eternal longing of the human heart. He confesses himself an incurable romantic, one who cannot escape the call of beauty, of love, of yearning, and who finds in art the mirror of that inner fire. His praise of Casablanca is not simply about a film; it is about a story that embodies love’s nobility and sacrifice, told with such grace that it becomes more than entertainment—it becomes a myth of modern times.

To call Casablanca one of the most romantic pictures is to honor its unique weaving of passion and renunciation. Humphrey Bogart as Rick, and Ingrid Bergman as Ilsa, embody not only lovers torn by war and circumstance, but the eternal tension between desire and duty, longing and sacrifice. Their love, though real and fierce, cannot be fulfilled in the way they wish; instead, it is transfigured into something larger than themselves, something that serves a higher purpose. Here lies the romance Adam celebrates—not just the sweetness of union, but the grandeur of choosing love’s dignity over love’s possession.

The magic Adam describes in the pairing of Bogart and Bergman is not mere chemistry, but a convergence of archetypes. Bogart, rugged and world-weary, represents the hardened soul who has been scarred by life, yet still harbors tenderness beneath his armor. Bergman, luminous and sorrowful, embodies beauty entwined with conscience, torn between her heart and her responsibility. Together, they become more than characters; they become symbols of what it means to love deeply, even when fate does not grant fulfillment. Their performances, steeped in restraint and longing, lift the story beyond the screen and into legend.

History itself bears witness to such love stories where passion was bound by duty. Consider Antony and Cleopatra, whose love shook empires yet was shadowed by politics and war. Or recall the tale of Dante and Beatrice, where earthly union was denied, but spiritual inspiration endured across eternity. Casablanca stands in this lineage, translating these ancient patterns into the modern world of war-torn Europe, reminding viewers that romance is not merely about joy, but also about sacrifice, memory, and the nobility of loss.

The meaning of Adam’s reflection is profound: to be a romantic is to recognize the beauty not only of love fulfilled, but of love restrained, of devotion that transcends possession. It is to believe that magic exists in the spaces between people, in the glances, the silences, and the choices that shape destiny. The incurable romantic sees in Casablanca a parable: that love’s truest power may be revealed not when it gets everything it desires, but when it gives everything it can for a higher cause.

The lesson for us is to carry romance not as a fleeting feeling, but as a way of seeing the world. Let us recognize beauty where others see only banality, and let us cherish the nobility of sacrifice in love as much as its sweetness. Life will not always grant us the endings we dream of, but even in loss, even in separation, romance can endure as memory, as inspiration, as the flame that guides us forward.

Practically, this means allowing ourselves to be moved by art, by film, by story—not dismissing them as trifles, but letting them remind us of what is most human. It means carrying love into our daily lives not only in words, but in acts of generosity, loyalty, and courage. And it means embracing the truth that romance is not destroyed by hardship—it is revealed by it.

Thus, Ken Adam’s words shine not only as a tribute to a film but as a testament to love’s eternal mystery. Casablanca endures because it teaches that romance is not only about desire, but about sacrifice; not only about what we gain, but about what we give. To be an incurable romantic, then, is not weakness, but strength—the strength to believe in magic even when the world seems cruel, and to carry that magic as a light for future generations.