[7.0/10] The funny thing about The Bells of St. Mary is that, to the modern viewer, it plays more like a mini-season of television than a feature length movie. There’s nominally an overarching story -- about the clash and acceptance between Father O’Malley and Sister Benedict, and about whether the titular St. Mary’s church and school will be torn down or whether they’ll be able to realize their dream of moving into the shiny new building next door. But like Going My Way, the film is more a series of vignettes, little incidents that stand alone but work around a theme, that makes the movie feel more like a forerunner to modern day sitcoms than a cinematic creation.
That’s not to say that there’s no visual artistry at play in The Bells of St. Mary. Some of the sets are a little static at times, but the use of matte paintings and occasional wider shots gives you a sense of scope within this little universe. Plus writer-director Leo McCarey finds interesting ways to frame his performers, whether it’s putting Sister Benedict in a visual valley between black habits, or blocking Father O’Malley inside a uniquely-shaped entryway, or shooting Sister Benedict from above with O’Malley’s back to the camera when he’s asking her to do something to convey the power dynamic between the two of them. For the most part, the film has the same “static camera to just catch the action” as Going My Way did, but it throws in a few flourishes to keep the viewer on their toes.
And like Going My Way, it is much a showcase of random, disconnected bits as it is a unified thing. There’s some thematic coherence between them, connected by the push and pull between O’Malley and Benedict, but they’re mostly on their own. And boy, do some of them drag. The film basically includes an entire first grade play, and while it’s cute enough, there’s little, if any, point to it, and the “look at little kids be silly in putting on a show” routine wears out its welcome quickly.
By the same token, the film putters along for long stretches. Especially in the beginning, The Bells of St. Mary simply lets its scenes extend and extend until there’s little if any punch left in them. Early scenes in particular have a slow-as-molasses rhythm where one character will state some bit of expository dialogue, there’s a long pause, and then a cut to a reaction shot from another character, followed by another spot of expository dialogue that recapitulates the same thing, and so forth and so on.
There’s also the inevitable bristling that comes from seeing a movie made more than seventy years ago. The values of The Bells of St. Mary are unavoidably different than my values, which isn’t a fault, but does make it harder to connect with the film. It’s difficult to invest in moral dilemmas founded on whether or not you should withhold important medical information from a patient, or whether it’s okay to out-and-out lie to a sick person about a supposed cure to their condition in the name of charity, or whether you shouldn’t ever hold a student accountable for their marks because it might make them feel bad. Everything from encouraging kids to fight to reuniting deadbeat dads without a word of apology or explanation leaves a sour taste in the mouth of a modern day audience.
In fairness, some of these are probably debates and positions that people would take today. But at the same time, it’s hard for me not to be aghast that the alleged good doctor would worry about ruining Sister Benedict’s optimism than keeping her fully informed about her own medical condition. It’s hard for me to feel good about Father O’Malley convincing the doctor and trying to manipulate the rich-but-miserly neighbor into donating his building to the church when it’s founded on lies and misleading-at-best medical advice, even if it’s for a good cause. And Father O’Malley’s pitch that grades shouldn’t matter to a kid’s academic progress because he had one friend who had a good shipping business after he developed self-confidence who employed some otherwise broke kids who’d done well in school is naive at best and anti-intellectualism at worst. The film usually presents another side to these things, and in fairness, the resolutions are usually satisfactory enough, but there’s a disconnect between the past and the present that leaves the dilemmas the film tries to set up ring false.
Still, the middle ground the movie cuts covers for that a little. Dueling random vignettes about Sister Benedict teaching a pacifistic kid how to box and Father O’Malley teaching a less-academically-inclined student how to ace her report show some common ground between them in being willing to bend the rules for to help young people they believe in. Sister Benedict deciding to pass Patsy after she demonstrates her knowledge gets you Father O’Malley’s desired outcome in a way that preserves Sister Benedict’s principles. And Father O’Malley eventually defies the doctor’s advice and can’t let Sister Benedict go off thinking she’s been banished not only from St. Mary’s, but from working with children, for the job she’s done at this school, explaining her own damn medical situation to her finally.
But the best thing to recommend the film is Ingrid Bergman’s performance as Sister Benedict. Bing Crosby is surprisingly languid here, and outside of his “Land of Beginning Again” number, his songs are forgettable. But Bergman absolutely shines. Whether she’s shadow-boxing along with her pupil from an open window, exalting when Mr. Bogardus tells her he’s donating his building as her dreams are realized, comforting Patsy with conviction about becoming a Nun and how it’s about having found something not lost something, or melting when Father O’Malley gives her the real reason for her departure, Bergman hits it out of the park every time with warmth and humanity. The light she brings to the film is what makes it worth seeing, despite its slack pace and stop-and-start stories.
Those stories make it easy to drift through The Bells of St. Mary, and wait for it to get on with its obviously telegraphed destination of donation and detente between St. Mary’s and its neighbor and Sister Benedict and Father O’Malley. But there’s charm in some of its little vignettes. And like the modern sitcoms it seems to presage, there’s a gentleness and warmth that buoys its weaker stretches. The rhythms and values f the movie are still a bit unfamiliar and awkward to the modern eye, but Bergman’s brightness shines though, and the touches of sweetness make the film just winning enough to be worth another stop at Father O’Malley’s parish.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParentSpoilers2018-12-22T18:06:08Z
[7.0/10] The funny thing about The Bells of St. Mary is that, to the modern viewer, it plays more like a mini-season of television than a feature length movie. There’s nominally an overarching story -- about the clash and acceptance between Father O’Malley and Sister Benedict, and about whether the titular St. Mary’s church and school will be torn down or whether they’ll be able to realize their dream of moving into the shiny new building next door. But like Going My Way, the film is more a series of vignettes, little incidents that stand alone but work around a theme, that makes the movie feel more like a forerunner to modern day sitcoms than a cinematic creation.
That’s not to say that there’s no visual artistry at play in The Bells of St. Mary. Some of the sets are a little static at times, but the use of matte paintings and occasional wider shots gives you a sense of scope within this little universe. Plus writer-director Leo McCarey finds interesting ways to frame his performers, whether it’s putting Sister Benedict in a visual valley between black habits, or blocking Father O’Malley inside a uniquely-shaped entryway, or shooting Sister Benedict from above with O’Malley’s back to the camera when he’s asking her to do something to convey the power dynamic between the two of them. For the most part, the film has the same “static camera to just catch the action” as Going My Way did, but it throws in a few flourishes to keep the viewer on their toes.
And like Going My Way, it is much a showcase of random, disconnected bits as it is a unified thing. There’s some thematic coherence between them, connected by the push and pull between O’Malley and Benedict, but they’re mostly on their own. And boy, do some of them drag. The film basically includes an entire first grade play, and while it’s cute enough, there’s little, if any, point to it, and the “look at little kids be silly in putting on a show” routine wears out its welcome quickly.
By the same token, the film putters along for long stretches. Especially in the beginning, The Bells of St. Mary simply lets its scenes extend and extend until there’s little if any punch left in them. Early scenes in particular have a slow-as-molasses rhythm where one character will state some bit of expository dialogue, there’s a long pause, and then a cut to a reaction shot from another character, followed by another spot of expository dialogue that recapitulates the same thing, and so forth and so on.
There’s also the inevitable bristling that comes from seeing a movie made more than seventy years ago. The values of The Bells of St. Mary are unavoidably different than my values, which isn’t a fault, but does make it harder to connect with the film. It’s difficult to invest in moral dilemmas founded on whether or not you should withhold important medical information from a patient, or whether it’s okay to out-and-out lie to a sick person about a supposed cure to their condition in the name of charity, or whether you shouldn’t ever hold a student accountable for their marks because it might make them feel bad. Everything from encouraging kids to fight to reuniting deadbeat dads without a word of apology or explanation leaves a sour taste in the mouth of a modern day audience.
In fairness, some of these are probably debates and positions that people would take today. But at the same time, it’s hard for me not to be aghast that the alleged good doctor would worry about ruining Sister Benedict’s optimism than keeping her fully informed about her own medical condition. It’s hard for me to feel good about Father O’Malley convincing the doctor and trying to manipulate the rich-but-miserly neighbor into donating his building to the church when it’s founded on lies and misleading-at-best medical advice, even if it’s for a good cause. And Father O’Malley’s pitch that grades shouldn’t matter to a kid’s academic progress because he had one friend who had a good shipping business after he developed self-confidence who employed some otherwise broke kids who’d done well in school is naive at best and anti-intellectualism at worst. The film usually presents another side to these things, and in fairness, the resolutions are usually satisfactory enough, but there’s a disconnect between the past and the present that leaves the dilemmas the film tries to set up ring false.
Still, the middle ground the movie cuts covers for that a little. Dueling random vignettes about Sister Benedict teaching a pacifistic kid how to box and Father O’Malley teaching a less-academically-inclined student how to ace her report show some common ground between them in being willing to bend the rules for to help young people they believe in. Sister Benedict deciding to pass Patsy after she demonstrates her knowledge gets you Father O’Malley’s desired outcome in a way that preserves Sister Benedict’s principles. And Father O’Malley eventually defies the doctor’s advice and can’t let Sister Benedict go off thinking she’s been banished not only from St. Mary’s, but from working with children, for the job she’s done at this school, explaining her own damn medical situation to her finally.
But the best thing to recommend the film is Ingrid Bergman’s performance as Sister Benedict. Bing Crosby is surprisingly languid here, and outside of his “Land of Beginning Again” number, his songs are forgettable. But Bergman absolutely shines. Whether she’s shadow-boxing along with her pupil from an open window, exalting when Mr. Bogardus tells her he’s donating his building as her dreams are realized, comforting Patsy with conviction about becoming a Nun and how it’s about having found something not lost something, or melting when Father O’Malley gives her the real reason for her departure, Bergman hits it out of the park every time with warmth and humanity. The light she brings to the film is what makes it worth seeing, despite its slack pace and stop-and-start stories.
Those stories make it easy to drift through The Bells of St. Mary, and wait for it to get on with its obviously telegraphed destination of donation and detente between St. Mary’s and its neighbor and Sister Benedict and Father O’Malley. But there’s charm in some of its little vignettes. And like the modern sitcoms it seems to presage, there’s a gentleness and warmth that buoys its weaker stretches. The rhythms and values f the movie are still a bit unfamiliar and awkward to the modern eye, but Bergman’s brightness shines though, and the touches of sweetness make the film just winning enough to be worth another stop at Father O’Malley’s parish.