The Bells of St. Mary’s (1945) - film review

Catholic priest Father O’Malley is assigned to St Mary’s, a run-down New York school which is kept going only by the enthusiasm of the nuns who run it.   Opposite the school is a brand new office block, built by the tight-fisted businessman Horace P. Bogardus.  The latter is determined that St Mary’s should be demolished to provide space for a car park and tries to use Father O’Malley as a go-between.  Blithely unaware of this, the nuns are convinced that Bogardus intends to donate his new building to the Church, providing a new school to replace the one that is falling to pieces.  Despite his best efforts, Father O’Malley runs into conflict with Sister Benedict, the head teacher.  She disapproves of the relaxed way in which he manages the children, allowing them to run amok and not bothering about pass marks in exams.  He, likewise, finds her too rigid and rule-bound.   Knowing how much the school means to Sister Benedict, how can Father O’Malley break the news to her that it must soon be closed down...?

Going My Way was the biggest box office hit of 1944.  It garnered seven Academy Awards (including Bing Crosby’s sole Oscar win) and was both a critical and commercial triumph.  So it was hardly surprising that the following year saw the release of a direct sequel, The Bells of St. Mary’s, with Bing Crosby returning as the much loved Father O’Malley for another healthy serving of well-meaning sentimentality and Christian good will.  On this occasion, Crosby finds himself up against a more formidable acting talent, in the form of Ingrid Bergman, but he still manages to steal every scene he appears in, charming us into submission with his gentle portrayal of a somewhat unorthodox Catholic priest.

The Bells of St. Mary’s is one of those deceptively tame films which, instinctively, you know you should hate.  The first few ten minutes of the film only serve to confirm your initial expectations that this is merely a sugary Catholic propaganda piece and you anticipate, by the end of it, to be as sick as if you had jammed a hundred boxes of Milk Tray down your  gullet.  But no, first impressions can be wrong, and never more so than with this film.  Once you become accustomed to its gentle pace and childlike innocence it becomes thoroughly engaging, and its brief moments of mawkishness are easily forgiven.

There are so many delights in this film it is impossible to list them all.  The sequence no audience is likely to forget is the one in which a group of enthusiastic infants perform a nativity play.  Director Leo McCarey stated that this was the hardest scene he ever had to direct but the effort certainly paid off.  This scene has a spontaneity and sincerity that you would not expect to find in a polished Hollywood production, and I defy anyone to watch it without going all gooey inside.  It is simply wonderful.

Another highlight – and this one is even more improbable – is the sight of Ingrid Bergman, playing a nun, giving boxing lessons to a little boy.  No, you really have to see it to believe it.  It is one of the funniest and most touching things you will see on a piece of celluloid.  Of course, some will only watch the film for its musical numbers, which are delivered by Crosby with his customary finesse and velvety warmth, but, for our money, Bergman doing her Jack Dempsey impression gives much greater value.

The Bells of St. Mary’s is a magical little film.  It has an enduring charm and will undoubtedly appeal to audiences of any age.  Yes, the film stretches credibility in a few places, and Henry Travers’ conversion from die-hard skinflint to angelic philanthropist is a bit dubious, but who cares?  This is the world how we all want it to be – an idyllic place in which everything turns out for the best and kind deeds abolish rancour and suffering in a trice, bringing smiles where gloom once prevailed.  You will be hard pressed to find a more heart-warming and uplifting film than this.

© Steve Chandler 2010

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