It's the sort of picture where you have to understand the mentality of the movie-going audience of the time. It was a sensation at the 1944 box office (#1 for the year, and the follow-up "The Bell's of St. Mary's" was #1 the next year); part of this had to do with the fact that it took America's mind off the on-going war effort and cheered them up quite a bit, and part of it had to do with its star, Bing Crosby.
Oscars were handed out for its hit song, Crosby, Barry Fitzgerald, the director, and the movie itself. The Motion Picture Academy, in a display of childish enthusiasm, gave Fitzgerald a crack at the leading Oscar and the supporting one, too.
Seen today, outside of the WWII context, the movie is a pleasant non-event. At its best, it contains a scene from "Carmen" that for a brief flash takes the film into the stratosphere, much in the same way "Vertigo" was featured in "12 Monkeys", and a clip from "The Third Man" was interlaced with a brief passage of "Leaving Las Vegas". Bing Crosby is the ultimate in old-school crooning, and Barry Fitzgerald is to crotchety old Irishmen what Walter Brennan was to crotchety old mid-westerners. At the film's worst, "Going My Way" is hopelessly naive and dated--at one point an exchange plays out as if it were a sitcom waiting for the laugh track (without the laugh track). It gives you a feeling that you're "hanging out" with the characters, and that at any moment they'll turn to you and say "hey, pal, thanks for renting the video. You're O.K. with us". Whether or not ferociously polite priests and aw-shucks street gangs will be invited to your next soiree will likely make or break the film for you.
In fact it's not a film at all. Not in the sense that "8 1/2" is a film, or "Star Wars", "The Godfather", or even "Wayne's World". It's an exercise in good natured good nature, and if that's what you butter your bread with, have at it. For those looking for dimension, wit, conflict, or any of those other extraneous story-telling devices, you might find yourself left out in the cold.
Oscars were handed out for its hit song, Crosby, Barry Fitzgerald, the director, and the movie itself. The Motion Picture Academy, in a display of childish enthusiasm, gave Fitzgerald a crack at the leading Oscar and the supporting one, too.
Seen today, outside of the WWII context, the movie is a pleasant non-event. At its best, it contains a scene from "Carmen" that for a brief flash takes the film into the stratosphere, much in the same way "Vertigo" was featured in "12 Monkeys", and a clip from "The Third Man" was interlaced with a brief passage of "Leaving Las Vegas". Bing Crosby is the ultimate in old-school crooning, and Barry Fitzgerald is to crotchety old Irishmen what Walter Brennan was to crotchety old mid-westerners. At the film's worst, "Going My Way" is hopelessly naive and dated--at one point an exchange plays out as if it were a sitcom waiting for the laugh track (without the laugh track). It gives you a feeling that you're "hanging out" with the characters, and that at any moment they'll turn to you and say "hey, pal, thanks for renting the video. You're O.K. with us". Whether or not ferociously polite priests and aw-shucks street gangs will be invited to your next soiree will likely make or break the film for you.
In fact it's not a film at all. Not in the sense that "8 1/2" is a film, or "Star Wars", "The Godfather", or even "Wayne's World". It's an exercise in good natured good nature, and if that's what you butter your bread with, have at it. For those looking for dimension, wit, conflict, or any of those other extraneous story-telling devices, you might find yourself left out in the cold.