G | 1h 49min | Romantic Comedy, Drama | 1947
Director Henry Koster’s film “The Bishop’s Wife” (1947) is based on American writer Robert Nathan’s eponymous 1928 novella. Starring Cary Grant, it tells a story that only children could possibly believe, but one that adults can try to embrace. It’s about how love helps us see ourselves and others better, and how a lack of love can rob us of that sight.
At Christmastime, Bishop Henry Brougham (David Niven) agonizes over the funding for a new cathedral. He’ll stop at nothing, even if he has to crawl, to please wealthy and worldly sponsors like Mrs. Hamilton (Gladys Cooper).
Henry’s wife, Julia (Loretta Young), worries that his cents-and-dollars anxiety is drawing him away from her and their little daughter, Debby. At the family table, Henry and Julia find themselves apart, physically and emotionally. Instead of opening their hearts to each other, they end up merely speaking their minds.
Angelic Arrival
As willful Mrs. Hamilton imposes her whims over what the new cathedral should look and feel like, frantic Henry prays for a miracle. In walks (flies?) angel Dudley (Cary Grant), who turns everyone’s world upside down. His divine, and occasionally less-divine, ways unveil the treasures before them, around them. His hope? They’ll rediscover themselves, the people they love, and the meaning of Christmas.
Sadly, Henry’s preoccupation with pastoral matters makes him as blind as a bat. He can’t “see” the miracles around him: the devotion of his wife, the playfulness of little Debby, the concern of his secretary and maids, or the empathy of friends like Professor Wutheridge (Monty Woolley). He finds nothing odd in saying “my” cathedral when referring to his feverish fundraising project.
What’s interesting isn’t that Henry is “blind,” but that his “blindness” is so complete. He doesn’t notice his wife, let alone her fancy new hat. He doesn’t believe Dudley is an angel, in spite of incontrovertible proof before him.
Even when this fact finally dawns on him, he doesn’t quite grasp the significance that God, through Dudley, might be telling him something about his misplaced priorities. Henry doesn’t realize that he’s more like the my-way-or-the-highway Mrs. Hamilton than he thinks.
Dudley’s entry is mysterious but not without meaning. In the opening scene, you see him look past lit-up trees and dangling festoons. He knows that decorations are nice, but he also knows that they’re not the real thing, because they’re a superficial expression of the spirit of Christmas.
Instead, he enjoys the innocence of children staring through shop windows or up at falling snow. He relishes their readiness to believe, their willingness to wonder, their utter lack of guile.
Koster’s message is about the ego. We all have it. But if it’s so big that it blinds us, then we have little hope of loving or feeling loved. And we shouldn’t blame others if they’d rather spend time with someone else.
Naturally, everyone but Henry finds Dudley and his mysterious ways endearing. Sometimes Dudley alters events through direct (miraculous) intervention: helping little Debby throw a mean snowball, speed-typing a speech, or playing a harp. At other times, he’s indirect: changing people’s minds by the force of his personality, just by smiling, stepping forward, nudging them to follow their heart rather than their head.
Sticky Situation
Koster plays to the strengths of his stars, as both Grant and Niven get to show off their comedic craft.Furious over Mrs. Hamilton’s endless list of demands, a humorous scene has Henry sitting with her to iron out differences over the design, while Dudley (with Julia) proxies for Henry on a pastoral errand elsewhere. Mrs. Hamilton wants her late husband’s likeness woven into the cathedral window that’ll depict St. George and the dragon. She haughtily insists, “I should like that the countenance of St George suggests my late husband.” Without missing a beat, Henry looks straight at her, “Who do you see as the dragon?” He doesn’t think that she’ll spot his sly insinuation. Luckily, for him, she doesn’t.
Eager to leave the annoying Mrs. Hamilton behind and hurry back to Julia, if only to keep her eyes away from the dashing Dudley, Henry rises. But he finds himself, comically, stuck to his newly varnished chair. Flustered that it might be another of Dudley’s “miracles” to keep him away from Julia, Henry dials home to have another pair of trousers sent over so that he can free himself.
Unsure about what to say, as Henry paces to and fro with the chair’s legs sticking out from behind him, an embarrassed Mrs. Hamilton blurts, “Have a chair.” Henry stops pacing, sits on his “captive” chair with a terse, “Thank you. I have one!”
Grant is brilliant. He’s kind to the commoner (taxi driver, secretary, maid, obscure academic) and compassionate toward the highbrow. He wears his angelic nature lightly, carries his exquisitely tailored suit better than most leading men do, and seems able to light up a Christmas tree with his smile, even without special effects. You almost wonder why the camera isn’t always pointing at him.
Some Misses
For all its many hits, Koster’s film has a few misses. Perhaps too many screenwriters made it harder for him to satisfactorily resolve some of his character arcs. Perhaps he overplayed the romantic tension between Dudley and Julia, making it tougher for him to balance his thematic treatment.Dudley’s point to Henry is that a new cathedral, desirable as it may be, isn’t essential in lean years when poor folk are still short of food and shelter. Dudley nods at the artist’s image of the cathedral hanging over Henry’s hearth as he says to Henry, “That big roof could make so many little roofs.” But Koster never shows us that world, not even a glimpse.
Happily, Grant’s obvious charisma and his chemistry with Young dazzle enough to make the movie a memorable seasonal watch.
