A great favorite - but I have questions
I would not rank The Bells of St. Mary's as the greatest movie of all time, but I guess I would have to say it is my favorite movie of all time. Certainly, it is the movie that I have seen the most in my life. Since it started appearing on local TV in the mid-1950s, I guess I've seen it 50 times. I try to make sure I watch it every Christmas season. (It's one of those movies that really isn't a Christmas movie, but has one scene, and one scene only, that takes place at Christmas, and since it is so beloved by so many, it has since become a staple for the season.)
Why do I love it so much? First of all, it brings back such memories of watching it as a young boy on late night TV with my Dad. For a Catholic parochial school student like myself, this was the perfect movie. My dad and I would always crack up at the scene of the first grade Christmas pageant. The little "director" struggling to lift Mary, who's about twice his size, onto the sawhorse donkey (catch the way that Bobby then casually, innocently, plays with "Mary"'s leg and skirt), and the goofy looking little kid playing Baby Jesus.
My favorite scene was when Mr. Bogardus goes into the church to pray, and the mutt who he has just helped across the street follows him in, and sits behind him, unbeknownst to Mr. Bogardus. Then the dog slowly starts to whine and yawn, until Bogardus finally turns around and sees him. I would be on the floor in nutty little kid hysterics, which would get my Dad started giggling as well.
Both of these scenes showcase director Leo McCarey's greatest strength, which comes through in many of his movies, which is portraying everyday people in everyday situations in the kindest, warmest, funniest light possible. Other examples of this: The scene at the beginning where Father O'Malley is waiting to meet all of the nuns on his first day, and they come into the room, one by one, and each time, Father O'Malley tries to sit back down, only to stand up again as each nun enters - he is quickly overwhelmed by the sea of black habits surrounding him. How many nuns taught at this school? Very funny.
As to the discussion on another page about Patsy's mother, that's an interesting thought about what it all means, and that is rather adult for a movie from the '40s, which may be why I always fast forward through all of the scenes with Patsy's mother and father; I find that whole subplot totally distracting from the rest of the movie. As a matter of fact, when local stations used to show this movie, they would often cut out scenes, and those scenes were left out.
Other questions: How did Sister Benedict get to be a Mother Superior at such a young age - Ingrid Bergman was about 30 at the time? Or are we to think that she's really in her 40s and just has an incredibly fresh face? And what about the sexual tension between her and Father O'Malley? Conscious or unconscious on all of the principals' parts?
The strengths of the movie have to be able to withstand two completely ludicrous plot devices: First of all, that Bogardus would out of the blue come around to the nuns' way of thinking and give away his building - OK, that's the whole point of it's better to give than to receive, the spirit of Christmas, etc. I can stomach that one, I guess.
But what about the Doctor deciding that Sister Benedict would recover better from her tuberculosis if she wasn't told about it, and was sent away to a dry climate without explanation? Is there any medical justification for this whatsoever? Of course, without this ludicrous judgment call by the Doctor, the entire last scene, of Sister Benedict's bitterness, etc. would have to be omitted?