Runtime: 126 minutes
Directed by: Leo McCarey
Starring: Bing Crosby, Barry Fitzgerald, Frank McHugh, James Brown (no, not that one), Jean Heather
From: Paramount
A lengthier review than usual, but there is a valid reason why.
Normally I wouldn't track down a schmaltzy 1940's film involving two Irish Catholic priests at a church in New York City and how they clash because of age and their diametrically viewpoints when it comes to such an operation. However, the reason why I did so: this was a favorite of my late mother. As plenty of followers have only started following me in the past 5 or so months, it will be reiterated that she passed away due to illness that was NOT COVID and she was sick since the start of this year... so the entirety of 2020 has been as rotten as can be.
As long as I can remember this was a favorite of hers. It was common for her to see this each holiday season; the past several scenes are set around Christmas. The main thing I knew about it for years was that EVERY time it was viewed, she would be teary-eyed at the final scene. Now that it's finally been viewed, it's the exact sort of thing that would have gotten her emotional. The events of the finale are rather touching and because of what the big surprise at the end was, it did make me feel sad. It did not make me regret finally viewing Going My Way, mind you.
Bing Crosby is Chuck O'Malley, a new and “hip” priest who is assigned to the church run by Father Fitzgibbon-Barry Fitzgerald-who literally built the building with his own hands decades ago. He is an older man who is more traditional. The two do not get along at first but as neither is a jerk and the biggest sins of Fitzgibbon is being stubborn & suffering from a cast of naivete... it is not a movie with a strong narrative drive yet it is-to quote others-”agreeable” and “a hangout picture.” Bing helps out the restless kids in the neighborhood by forming a choir and there is conflict which occasionally pops up from... a banker who wants to foreclose on the church. Mr. Potter wasn't the only miserable grinch SOB financier in a 1940's Christmas movie and I'll just presume there's no shortage of other pictures from the decade which demonize the profession.
This won plenty of Oscars in 1945; that includes Best Picture (to bring up another popular talking point, this win was allegedly because it was a “crowd-pleaser” during the dark days of World War II), Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor. While Double Indemnity and Gaslight-also nominated that year for Best Picture-are better remembered and loved by people like us, I won't complain about Crosby and Fitzgerald winning those prizes as both were great playing those colorful characters. Of course there are a few songs and of course the movie manages to shoehorn in opportunities for Old Bing to sing.
Perhaps it's the personal reasons that explains why I am giving this a pretty good rating; even if it is, I'll stick by it because with these circumstances, it's impossible to divorce the movie from my mom's love of it for as long as I can remember.
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