Both films are listed together because they belong together, one fitting snugly against the other, offering a seamless double-feature capable of brightening your whole world for a few hours, and maybe a little longer if you can avoid leaving the house after they’re over.
Going My Way won seven well-deserved Oscars including best picture, actor (Bing Crosby), supporting actor (a sweet and crusty Barry Fitzgerald), director (Leo McCarey), screenplay, and song (Swingin’ On a Star). The story is a gentle and moving one about Father Chuck O’Malley (Crosby), a seemingly low-key, even lazy priest who’s really a fixer for the diocese with an uncanny ability to effortlessly maneuver everyone into under-estimating him.
At first this includes the elderly Father Fitzgibbon (Fitzgerald), who’s no longer able to efficiently run his parish and thisclose to losing a crumbling church to bankruptcy. The heart of Going My Way is the complicated road both men walk until they finally reach a warm and rich friendship.
There are no bad guys in Going My Way, just those in need of a little faith, direction and love. All of which Father O’Malley delivers with great empathy, understanding, charm and, of course, song. The genius of Crosby’s iconic portrayal of the Irish priest we now measure all by is in how easy he makes it all seem. Learn your lines and don’t bump into the furniture, right? If you believe as I do that great acting results in a natural, convincing characterization that doesn’t show the strings of “technique,” then you’ll agree Crosby had few equals and that late-career Meryl Streep sucks.
There are too many beautiful scenes to inventory, but what sticks out most is the boy’s choir singing Ave Maria, Bing’s gentle Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ra lullaby sung to a heart and homesick Father Fitzgibbon and the unforgettably touching reunion with the old priest and his aged mother.
The scene that always moves me more than any other, though, might not have seemed like such a big deal in 1944 when Hollywood still believed America was a country worth fighting for, but the look of pride on landlord Gene Lockhart’s face when his son presents himself in military uniform and announces he’s enlisted to fight for his country (a country currently embroiled in WWII) is unforgettable. Will even a trace of this Hollywood ever be allowed to return?
Going My Way is a rarity, a film without flaw, and its 1945 sequel, The Bells Of St. Mary’s, is a worthy follow-up. Critics unfairly accuse Bells of being little more than a remake of its predecessor with Bing’s Father O’Malley once again the fixer sent to gently nudge the person in charge aside. And this time it’s Ingrid Bergman’s Sister Mary Benedict whose Catholic school is falling down around her. But the critics are wrong. These films have little to do with plot and everything to do with relationships, and in the relationship department the situation here is much more complicated than before. This time Father O’Malley has something to learn.
If there was ever a more beautiful nun than Ingrid Bergman, it could only have been Audrey Hepburn or Deborah Kerr. Again we have too many memorable moments to list, but Sister Mary giving a bullied student boxing lessons, Father O’Malley leaning on the school bell, the title song, and Bergman’s speech to a young girl about what it is to become a nun, all stand out.
However, Bells has my all-time favorite scene from either film, a simple, innocent and endearing reminder of what Christmas is really about.
Happy Birthday, Jesus:
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