By HENRY P. RALEIGH
Apriil, 2003
A FEW YEARS ago the eminent semiotician, Umberto Eco, took a serious look at the 1942 film, "Casablanca" — that is, he deconstructed it, as we like to say, at the drop of a hat. Professor Eco observed to his surprise that not only he but everyone else, even those born decades after its time, could handily quote the films iconic lines. "Round up the usual suspects" and "Here's looking at you, kid" had somehow entered all the worlds’ languages.
Now "Casablanca" is not a cinematic masterpiece. As a matter of fact it's a rather mediocre film, well known to have been muddled and unplanned in production and clichéd to beat the band. Even its musical theme, "As Time Goes By," had been a failed pop tune written years before and thrown in because there wouldn't be a copyright problem. So why has "Casablanca" endured, and why so adulated? Because, says Professor Eco, it's willy-nilly, chock-full of archetypes and you can't avoid them even if you duck. So what are archetypes, you may well ask? We're in deep water here, all right, but once knowing that archetypes are buried in our unconscious minds, having wormed their way in a long time ago, there's nothing you can do about it and just let it go at that. According to the Professor the very fact that "Casablanca" was such a slap-dash, cobbled together film meant that all those archetypes so carelessly tossed in were never smothered and smoothed down by the niceties and conventions of Art — there they were, sticking out all over the place.
This made a lot of sense to me, I can tell you, and went a long way to explain why I'm so attached to some films that as a sensitive and worldly film goer I shouldn't be. Oh, I'm right up there with the best of them cheering the old "Passion of Joan of Arc" and "Last Year at Marienbad" as splendid moments in the history of film. But I'm certainly not going to sit through them a second time. You see, they just don't hold my kind of archetypes. On the other hand, Jean Shepherd's 1983 "A Christmas Story" does. My unconscious mind really sits up and takes notice at the sight of a dinner table set with a meal of meat loaf, mashed potatoes and red cabbage. Here are the archetypes of kids who grew up in the Great Depression and boy, you don't forget them. To show how archetypes work, an arrangement of meat loaf, mashed potatoes and brussel sprouts won't do it for me — no sir, it has to be meat loaf, mashed potatoes and red cabbage. That's the way it is with archetypes.
Sometimes you might come across a filmmaker who, coincidentally, holds archetypes like your own. Woody Allen and I share a load of archetypes, a lot of them long forgotten songs like "Mairsey Doats" and "Tico-Tico." The "Hut-Sut Song" is one of mine but maybe not Woody's since he has never used it in a film. His "Radio Days" does have an archetype that can only be mine alone. I figure there are small, run-of-the-mill archetypes that all of us have in common. They're nice enough but nothing to lose sleep over. And then there are the personal, super archetypes that can heat up the unconscious to the boiling point and leave you exhausted. Now there is a shot in "Radio Days" of just the legs of some teenage girls sitting at a soda fountain. We see the 40's pleated skirts, bobby socks and saddle shoes swaying to a radio crooner. A bit later is shown Diane Keaton singing "You'd be So Nice to Come Home to." OK, you'd think maybe at best a couple of small, routine nostalgia archetypes. But put these two together and my inner self goes into action, it's like nuclear fusion and before I know what's happening I'm up against a major, super archetype — Rosemary Davis. To tell you the truth, Rosemary never wanted anything to do with me back then. Maybe she would have had she known she'd become a super archetype. I'll bet then she'd be pleased to find out she did become an archetype. I mean how many people can make that claim, right?
I've read some place that Carl Jung actually thought that after archetypes sat around for a while they turned into something called "engrams" and they could be inherited. I've worried about this for what happens when one of my children comes across a plate of meat loaf, mashed potatoes and red cabbage and is startled by an overwhelming significance? And, for heaven's sake, what will they make of Rosemary Davis?
