The classic Christmas favourite, “The Bells of St. Mary’s,” is truly a slice of history. I’m an advocate of watching (quality) old movies to get a sense of the past and “the way we were.” Are older Hollywood depictions true to life? In some ways, yes. If priests and nuns in BOSM were portrayed in some totally unrealistic, overly idealized fashion, there would have been a contemporaneous outcry of “foul!” There wasn’t.  

My mother was in Catholic elementary school with nuns in 1945 (the year the film was released) and can vouch for BOSM’s generally authentic flavour (albeit with soft focus and sweet violins). In the first half of the 20th century, people knew how to make religious films that “rang” true. Why? Because they were people of faith, or at very least, surrounded by a culture of sincerely held and lived faith.  

Religion was taken seriously. So seriously that some levity could be injected without being irreverent, because the beliefs, practices, structures and parameters were clearly defined and respected. Let’s not forget that in 1944, “The Song of Bernadette” was awarded “Best Picture,” “Best Actress” and “Best Director” by the Golden Globes. With the Second World War just ended, beseeching God was at fever-pitch, which caused enduring faith-filled films to flood the silver screen (“Come to the Stable,” “It’s a Wonderful Life,” etc.)  

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As a nun, I applaud the beautiful habits in BOSM, and the film’s avoidance of the stern mother superior trope. In fact, the nuns are rather delightful, and in their vocation for all the right reasons: love of God and neighbour. Sr. Benedict (Ingrid Bergman) even counsels a young lady who wants to be a nun (for all the wrong reasons) that the convent is not an escape from life.  

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I would have appreciated more scenes of nuns praying, and the nuns and priest (Bing Crosby) referencing God, not just a kind of horizontal do-gooding. What’s at stake in the film is very small. The nuns and children might lose their little Catholic school, but there’s another one not far away. It’s the principle of the thing: they’re trying to plant and grow and build right here in their own neighbourhood. They’re trying to take up space and not give way to something that is not a little Catholic school filled with nuns and children. This is what makes it a “small”movie. As I learned in film school: the more specific you are, the more universal your story becomes. We share a common humanity with common aspirations. Only the names and faces differ. 

There’s a wonderful interplay of the masculine and feminine highlighting each one’s strengths, realms, expertise, gifts and perspectives: a friendly tension, jockeying and standing one’s ground. The intersecting plots of childhood travails, family life, schooling, philanthropy vs. wealth-building, obedience to authority and upholding standards versus taking a gamble on the unsanctioned are deftly woven with an overarching theme of seeking nobility. (Let it be known that I am not a fan of Father O’Malley’s squishy moral sense.)  

The scenes are incredibly long to modern sensibilities, uninterrupted by constant camera cuts. Mute facial expressions are key to the storytelling, hearkening back to the silent film era. The blocking, backgrounds and sets are clunky and hokey, like an expanded stage play. If Bing’s crooning isn’t to your liking, angelic hymns are worked in to melt your heart and win you over. Is it a comedy or a musical? It’s classified as both, and the lines are genuinely funny: “…up to your neck in nuns…”; “you have a dishonest face for a priest”; and an old curmudgeon who had a Scrooge-like conversion now has “holly in his heart.” 

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BOSM is a historical record. The war was in the shadows, colouring everything (“It’s hard to get glass nowadays…”). And did you notice the Pledge of Allegiance (to the U.S. flag) did not include “one nation, under God”? The Knights of Columbus successfully petitioned to have that added in only 1954. Tuberculosis was still a feared and deadly disease. Even though we are experiencing a kind of golden age in film and TV today (regarding technology, realism and sophisticated storytelling), the 1940s was a far superior golden age due to its conformity, by and large, to a Christian worldview. 

Sr. Helena Raphael Burns, fsp, is a Daughter of St. Paul who holds a Masters in Media Literacy Education and studied screenwriting at UCLA.