THE BISHOP'S WIFE: Blu-ray (Samuel Goldwyn 1947) Warner Home Video
How does a
frustrated Episcopal bishop thwart divine intervention and win back the
affections of his wife? This is just one question answered in Henry Koster’s
triumphant romantic fantasy, The
Bishop’s Wife (1947); a lithe and ethereal dramedy with oodles of crisp
charm and big-hearted comedy to spare. Not particularly well received upon its’
initial release, today The Bishop’s Wife
is widely regarded as a holiday classic and rightly so. With each passing year,
and from our current moral ambiguity perpetuated by a Hollywood that seems more
proficient at exorcising our nightmares than indulging our dreams, it becomes
glaringly obvious how profoundly professional the old studio system was at
hand-crafting such effervescent holiday fare. Of course they were working with
extraordinary talent both in front of and behind the camera; the elegant Cary
Grant herein cast as a celestial messenger; David Niven, his obtusely
belligerent and perpetually frustrated fop, and Loretta Young the quintessence
of gentle feminine grace and fortitude. The
Bishop’s Wife continues to work magic, delivering its blessed message of
goodwill, because its stars outshine the obviousness and absurdity of its
story. Adapted by Leonardo Bercovici and Robert E. Sherwood from a novel by
Robert Nathan The Bishop’s Wife tells
the tale of two men challenged in their faith. The first, Bishop Henry Brougham
(Niven) has been driven to distraction by his own ambition. But the
otherworldly creature sent in answer to his prayers harbors an even more
complex, and perhaps slightly sinister desire to experience human love one last
time. This struggle of wills is ultimately distilled into a traditional
confrontation: two men vying for the affections of the same woman. But the
broader implications of how a God-sent miracle can inadvertently become untrustworthy
and perhaps even destructive to the humanity it must serve, tests the
boundaries of Christianity in all sorts of subliminal and fascinating
ways.
Like another
truly inspired holiday classic, Frank Capra’s It’s A Wonderful Life (1946), a darker undercurrent to man’s faith
steadily emerges in The Bishop’s Wife;
one to challenge each protagonist’s resolve and force a resolution beneficial
to all. For Dudley (Grant), presumably heaven-sent to assist the bishop in his
work is hardly as pure of heart, his faith and motives questionable behind his
cordial façade. And Grant plays this ‘angel’ with an uncharacteristic streak of
devilish larceny. Ironically, this makes Cary Grant the idyllic figure of
angelic resilience; working against our expectations, though nevertheless to
achieve his saintly purpose on earth. Before long Henry realizes that in
wishing for one dream he may have inadvertently sacrificed another – the
singular bliss he once shared with his wife, now fast slipping away in the arms
of this ethereal interloper. Today, we tend to view Cary Grant through the
rubric as a light romantic-comedy super star; just an amiable, bright and
breezy bon vivant with a twinkle in his eye. Grant made it all look so utterly
effortless one tends to forget the expert craftsmanship behind this well-honed
disguise; a sort of mask of impenetrable virtue and vitality from which the
more complex man of conflicting social anxieties and passions was rarely – if
ever – seen. On occasion, however, Grant revealed himself more through the
artifice of the characters he played on the screen; the wounded nature of his
troubled heart judged merely as performance – Grant, expanding his actor’s
range to encompass more composite roles.
The Bishop’s Wife is a testament to Grant’s varied
talents. He plays an angel as an inherently good, but occasionally imperfect figure
whose duties are somewhat superseded by his own tastes and desires. Unlike the
angel-in-waiting, ‘Clarence’ from It’s a
Wonderful Life, constantly receiving chastisements from his heavenly
wranglers, and, sheepishly apologetic for the minor infractions he invariably
commits along the way to achieving salvation for the mortal he has been sent to
protect, Grant’s Dudley seems to be calling all the shots in The Bishop’s Wife; beholding to no
higher authority and left to his own devices so long as he ultimately gets the
job done in the allotment of time he has been given to work a miracle. Hence,
the parceling off of said time is not entirely about doing what is best or even
more precisely what is most concise to achieve this desired effect. In fact,
Dudley is given several opportunities to instantly heal the mounting stresses
in Henry and Julia’s lives but seems infinitely more interested in prolonging,
and even adding to them in slyly flirtatious ways. His courting of Julia at
Chez Michel’s; the favorite restaurant where she and the bishop first met,
hints of Dudley presuming too much; pursuing a more personal agenda that has
absolutely nothing to do with patching up their strained marriage. Dudley is
thwarted in this endeavor, not by divine intervention, but by the accusatory
stares directed at the couple by a suspicious gaggle of old beefs belonging to
Henry’s parish; their gossip cleverly diffused with Dudley’s diversionary
invitation to dine with them. Yet, his initial purpose in attending Julia at
Michele’s is never to strengthen her reputation with Henry’s congregation; only
to provide Julia with a momentary respite from the woes once again inflicted by
a prudish dowager whose dictates momentarily command the future of her
husband’s profession.
The Bishop’s Wife is undeniably a love story;
except that the real ‘reel’ romance on celluloid here is increasingly between
Julia and Dudley rather than Julia and her husband. Henry’s duties to the
church have been split; faith and financial burdens steadily conspiring to
deprive him of the love of a good woman; or rather, his ability to contribute
to his marriage in meaningful ways. He prays for a miracle. Only the one he
receives is hardly an answer to the question being asked. We could almost forgive Henry what amounts to
his greed to possess the millions dangled before his eyes like the proverbial
carrot by the wealthy but caustic Mrs. Hamilton (Gladys Cooper), if only Henry exhibited
more patience and understanding towards his own wife. Alas, Henry has drifted
away from the man Julia fell in love with and married. While he seems incapable
of acknowledging this, Julia is even more likely a candidate for the inevitable
fall from grace right into the arms of the first man to pay her a little
attention. Mercifully, the man who reignites her passions is an angel, or
rather, a creature of as earthly desires effectively masquerading as one.
Dudley can never possess Julia. But that does not mean he is unwilling – even
eager – to try; his penultimate declaration, “You lucky Henry, kiss her once for me” attesting to just how close
Dudley has come to his own catastrophic transgression.
As our story
begins Bishop Henry Brougham has been toiling for months on plans for a new
cathedral, its centerpiece, the George B. Hamilton Memorial Chapel. Funding for
the project has reached an impasse with the stoic widow, Mrs. Hamilton who
demands its religious iconography take on the continence of a shrine to her
late husband. Losing sight of his commitments to his own family, wife Julia
(Loretta Young) and young daughter, Debbie (Karolyn Grimes), as well as his
flock of parishioners, Henry seeks a moment of clarity from God. But he also
needs to be taught a lesson. Enter the utterly charming, yet somewhat divisive angel,
Dudley (Cary Grant). The truth of Dudley’s being is revealed only to Henry. Yet
Dudley wastes no time sparking a longing for romance within Julia, although not
necessarily for her husband. Indeed, Dudley’s arrival is both a blessing and a
curse; steering Julia into a series of playful dalliances gradually to motivate
her to question her own loyalties to hearth and home. But is it Dudley’s intent
to elevate the level of discord between Henry and Julia merely to prove a
counterpoint that will reawaken Henry’s feelings toward his own wife, or has
this angel disavowed his true calling to pursue a mortal woman for his own lascivious
advantage? We are never entirely certain. The actors, particularly Grant,
exercise their motivations with an ambiguousness to suggest anything is
possible. Our angel is trustworthy to a point, though hardly perfect. He can be
tempted, at least enough to defy the powers of heaven and earth for a chance to
satisfy dormant, though never entirely forgotten earthly urges.
After the
bishop is detained by another round of committee meetings, Dudley surprises
Julia with an impromptu visit to the park where she has taken Debbie to play.
The child is engaged in a rousing snowball fight before being sent off with the
bishop's scatterbrain housekeeper Matilda (Elsa Lanchester). This frees Julia for
a luncheon date with Dudley at Chez Michel, the restaurant where Henry first
proposed and the place in which so many happy memories for Julia exist from seemingly
now bygone days. Again, the moral ambiguity in Dudley’s purpose makes this
scene crackle with an unexpected romantic longing; both satisfying yet
double-edged. Dudley reads Julia’s palm explaining, "I see a woman who is adored...you were born young and that's how
you'll always remain." But is this sincerity designed to rekindle the
past within her or mere cheap flattery contrived to woo Julia away from it and
into Dudley’s arms? The film’s central narrative is mildly complicated by the
introduction of a tertiary character, the curmudgeonly Professor Wutheridge
(Monty Woolley) who has been struggling for many years to write his history about
the Roman world - a project effectively ruined when Mrs. Hamilton had
Wutheridge fired from the university because of his 'progressive' ideas.
Wutheridge is an ardent admirer of the female sex and regards Julia as one of
the finest women he has ever known, telling Dudley, “If you want to know about a woman ask the old men…they know!”
Dudley lies to Wutheridge about having been a pupil of his long ago in Vienna,
then sets about rekindling the disgraced academic’s verve for scholarship by
revealing to him a rare ancient coin that might have been used during Caesar’s
time. Wutheridge, Dudley and Julia share an intimate afternoon of fruitful
discussion inside the professor’s apartment where Julia confides her sadness
over the way both their lives have shifted away from the friends they once
cherished.
Orchestrating
yet another diversion for Henry surely to detain him at the widow Hamilton’s
estate, Dudley accompanies Julia to Henry’s old parish, St. Timothy’s where he
was expected to attend a boys’ choir rehearsal.
In one of The Bishop’s Wife’s
most deliberately evangelical exaltation, Dudley wills the boys who have yet
failed to arrive on time for their practice into a choral mass of heavenly
voices. Afterward, Dudley escorts Julia past the window of a hat shop. Earlier
Julia had admired a bonnet in its display case that she refrained from buying
because of its perceived extravagance.
Now Dudley encourages her to indulge in what she refers to as ‘her wickedness’. He further promotes
her delinquency from returning home immediately after the rehearsal by suggesting
they hail a taxi to Central Park. By now, Dudley has completely won over Julia;
the pair enjoying a moonlit skate with their wily cabdriver, Sylvester (James
Gleason) whose own faith in humanity is restored by their impromptu and
infectious merriment. Returning home very late in the evening, Julia incurs
Henry’s displeasure; the mood between husband and wife soured. Henry
re-channels his jealous to Dudley, ordering him from the rectory. Dudley
obliges, but playfully forewarns Henry he will be back. The following afternoon
Dudley makes good on this promise, engaging Debbie in the story of Daniel and
the lion – beautifully retold with wide-eyed simplicity to appeal to the child
in all of us. Rewriting Henry’s Christmas blessing after having dismissed his
secretary, Mildred Cassaway (Sarah Haden) for the afternoon, Dudley arrives at
the widow Hamilton's stately manor under the pretext of having come on a matter
for the church.
Instead he
plays a composition by the late Allen Cartwright - the only man Mrs. Hamilton
ever loved but ultimately the lover she cast aside for the security that her
late husband's money could afford. It is implied that this spurning of
affections resulted in Cartwright’s premature death – a burden Mrs. Hamilton
has carried close to her heart ever since. Hearing the composition played on
the harp in her living room, the widow Hamilton is stirred to remembrances; the
experience ultimately softening her resolve towards the bishop. Thus, when
Henry and Julia arrive much later in the evening to finalize plans for the
cathedral, they discover Mrs. Hamilton has decided instead to disseminate her
worldly funds to the poor and the needy as they require it. Embittered that his
cathedral shall never rise, Henry returns home more distraught than ever.
Dudley makes his most obvious play for Julia, a move to utterly convince her
she loves her husband. In reply, Henry challenges Dudley to an earthly
conflict, one narrowly averted when Dudley reasons he has finally made Henry
aware of the wellspring of his own affections toward Julia. Departing for good,
Dudley also cleanses his memory from the Brougham’s minds and hearts. They have
forgotten this strange ethereal creature that resurrected their passion for one
another, but moreover blessed them with the true spirit of Christmas. As Henry
delivers Dudley’s sermon from St. Timothy’s pulpit – oddly enough believing it
to be his own – we see Dudley quietly observing from just beyond the front gates,
retreating into the misty darkness perhaps only to emerge once more into that
otherworldly light.
The Bishop’s Wife was independent producer, Samuel
Goldwyn’s personal production; an elegant fable that ultimately developed into
so much more. Hugo Friedhofer’s inspired score elevates the unassuming romantic
elements into a luscious mélange, joyous and playful comedic undertones and
ever so slightly moody undercurrents that exquisitely augment the story. In the
embodiment of Cary Grant, there is more than a genuine sense of unearthly
presence. Veering between gentile naughtiness infused with a saintly (though
never saccharine) veneer, Grant is wholly believable as the angel with a
personal agenda. Indeed, the Cary Grant persona – usually referenced as the
urbane sophisticate - herein suggests something slightly more dangerous yet
simultaneously and infinitely more appealing; dispelling the clichéd
iconography of the ‘angel’. And Grant repeatedly, and perhaps even
deliberately, relishes testing the limitations of this character.
The film is
equally blessed in its two supporting stars: David Niven and Loretta Young.
Young is the pluperfect example of the devoted wife and mother without becoming
preachy, saintly or wistfully lost in its purity of heart. Julia Brougham may
be the bishop’s wife, but she has a mind and a will of her own – exercised and
tested by Dudley’s more spurious intensions toward her. And it is to Young’s
credit she manages a contented, almost ‘angelic’ kindness never to dissolve
into the treacle as rank sentiment. In a role threatening mere caricature – the
comedic dupe – David Niven instead manages to evoke a more intimate sadness. We
truly feel for Henry Brougham, the dark horse in this romantic triangle even as
he seems incapable of seeing the error of his ways. That intangible empathy is
impossible to quantify, but it is pure gold. And in the final act Niven redeems
his character by retaining his air of the gentlemanly grace, expressed in
Dudley’s majestic epitaph delivered with understated eloquence. Not only does
Henry manage to summarize the warmth of the tale, but to cause it to linger in
the mind and heart long after the houselights have come up.
"Tonight I want to tell you the story of an empty
stocking. Once upon a midnight clear, there was a child's cry, a blazing star
hung over a stable, and wise men came with birthday gifts. We haven't forgotten
that night down the centuries. We celebrate it with stars on Christmas trees,
with the sound of bells, and with gifts. But especially with gifts. You give me
a book, I give you a tie. Aunt Martha has always wanted an orange squeezer and
Uncle Henry can do with a new pipe. We forget nobody, adult or child. All the stockings
are filled, all that is, except one. And we have even forgotten to hang it up.
The stocking for the child born in a manger. It's his birthday we're
celebrating. Don't let us ever forget that. Let us ask ourselves what He would
wish for most. And then, let each put in his share, loving kindness, warm
hearts, and a stretched out hand of tolerance. All the shinning gifts that make
peace on earth."
The Bishop’s Wife arrives via Warner Home Video.
Alas, the image is derived from older elements rather than a brand new scan.
The overall characteristic is dark, Gregg Toland’s deep focus cinematography
yielding some very fine and occasionally gorgeous visuals. But film grain is
absent on the whole and fine details tend to lag behind what we are used to
seeing on Blu-ray. The pluses – everything tightens up in hi-def (as it
should). On the whole the gray scale is solidly rendered, although several
sequences look as though contrast levels have been ever so slightly
artificially boosted. Age-related artifacts are present but not pronounced.
Warner has chosen to jettison the re-channeled stereo produced by Chace Audio
for the DVD, leaving us with the original mono mix and its inherent
limitations. On the whole, it sounds excellent and will surely not disappoint.
Regrettably, there are NO extras. I would sincerely encourage Warner Home Video
to go back to the drawing board on this one. The Bishop’s Wife is a classic – period – and deserving of a more comprehensive
Special Edition Blu-ray release, beginning with a brand new scan of the original
camera elements, if indeed, they have survived. Bottom line: as a heart-warming Christmas
classic, The Bishop’s Wife comes
very highly recommended. As a Blu-ray presentation, it is hardly as good as it
might have been. Regrets.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
4.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
3
EXTRAS
0
Comments