Who of us have not, when enduring a particularly challenging period in our lives, secretly wished for the heavens to open up, revealing some celestial being that will provide us with the help and guidance we yearn for in these moments? It seems to be a universal experience to yearn for some kind of divine intervention, even if it is not strictly faith-based hope. This is the foundation for The Bishop’s Wife, a film in which Henry Koster adapts the novel of the same title by Robert Nathan, which follows a couple of days in the life of the bishop of a parish in a very small village located in New England, and his wife as they attempt to raise the necessary funds to build a cathedral, an aspiration that the bishop has had for years, and which he now is able to realize through a generous donation from a local dowager who views it as a perfect way to flaunt her wealth and consolidate herself as one of the town’s most notable residents, something that many of her fellow citizens find quite vulgar and inelegant. However, there are many challenges ahead of him when it comes to planning the building process, but mercifully he and his wife are not left to fend for themselves, since miraculously they are joined by Dudley, who claims to be an angel sent to provide the assistance they need, his congenial and upbeat demeanour being a perfect remedy to the bishop’s snarky and dour attitude. Initially promoting himself as someone who will help the grouchy and cynical bishop raise all the funds needed to start construction, Dudley eventually reveals himself to have broader goals, attempting to touch the lives of just about every member of this community, helping make sure the upcoming Christmas is one that they can wholeheartedly celebrate without their personal quandaries or existential burdens weighing them down. A delightful and charming comedy that takes a very simple premise and weaves it into an extraordinarily moving character study that touches on a number of intimidating themes, doing so in a manner that is exceptionally elegant and brimming with a unique sophistication that is indicative of a very specific era in film history, and which Koster perfectly encapsulates in absolutely every frame of this delightfully endearing, consistently engaging work that has become one of the most unexpected cherished Christmas films in the history of the medium, and one that is as beloved today as it was over seventy years ago.

There was a period in Hollywood history where Christmas films were expected to follow a few clear conventions, focusing on particular issues while highlighting others as being tangentially related but not entirely defined by the holiday being celebrated, likely a way to create some kind of separation between religious belief and artistic expression. Essentially, it was a matter of focusing on a very faith-based holiday while not alienating those who may hail from different religious groups, or simply don’t ascribe to belief in the same way as others. This became tricky for a film like The Bishop’s Wife, which is almost entirely contained within the confines of Christianity, but also not completely defined by it, which is likely a change made by Koster as well as screenwriters Leonardo Bercovici and Robert E. Sherwood, who had the unenviable task of taking a very simple novel and crafting it into this magnificently moving testament to the human condition and the power of perseverance. There are a number of qualities in this film that strike our attention – this is not a film about faith in particular, but rather one that uses the subject of religion as the foundation for what is a surprisingly secular story about community and the importance of resilience through challenging periods, where we look within to find the strength to overcome certain challenges. The religious iconography is well-utilized, but the film is certainly far from restrictive as far as the dogmatic themes tend to go – this isn’t a film that intends to reiterate that religion is the foundation of society, but rather one that shows that there is a power in the community that belief facilitates that can bring about an abundance of change. Considering the film was made at a time when faith was still a dominant force in a lot of American social and cultural sectors, there was going to be some degree of commentary on how faith is important, but rather than looking at the act of praise and worship, the film shifts its perspective from looking upwards and focuses on the idea of humanity being united through a common kindness and joy that we find is created when everyone is working towards a specific goal. Friendship and compassion are shown to be far more important than empty gestures that some believe are a sign of faith, and as the story progresses, we see the tug-of-war between dogmatic faith, in the form of the cathedral, and empathy, which gradually reveals itself as we see the importance of community above materialism.

Much of the charm of The Bishop’s Wife comes from the cast, who are uniformly very good. Koster had a knack for not only finding the right actors for both the leading and supporting roles but also extracting exceptional work from all of them. In this particular instance, he’s working with a trio that consists of Cary Grant, Loretta Young and David Niven, three of the most exceptional actors of their generation, all of whom are playing somewhat against type. Grant maximises his interminable charisma as Dudley, the lovable and debonair angel who immerses himself in the community, intent on bringing positive change to absolutely every person he encounters, while Niven is the cynical and weather-worn bishop who feels hopelessly inept, particularly since he has failed to occupy a leadership position within the community, and who is instead seen as more of a trivial figure. Between the two is Young’s wonderfully compelling character, who is conflicted between her husband, whom she loves but feels is becoming too distant, and this mysterious angel who provides her with the support and affection she has been yearning to receive. The trio are all magnificent, and while we are naturally predisposed to paying attention to Grant (who is unquestionably the most charismatic actor to ever work in the medium), his two co-stars manage to keep up exceptionally well, capturing a very elusive sense of humanity in their respective characters that feels genuinely very moving. The rest of the cast is just as strong – Elsa Lanchester, Monty Woolley and James Gleason all have supporting parts, but they prove to not only have exceptional chemistry with the three leads but also carry such immense heft to their respective performances that make them seem like fully-formed, complex individuals, rather than archetypes that exist on the periphery, each having their own small arc that ties into the deeper themes that govern this film. The Bishop’s Wife is very much a film about humanity, so it only makes sense that the focus would be on extracting the most moving, complex performances from the entire cast, all of whom are united in the pursuit of the deeper truths lingering beneath the surface.

There are certainly many fascinating narrative threads that weave together throughout the film, but while the story itself is quite moving, what makes The Bishop’s Wife so effective isn’t the themes, but rather how they are realized. Koster is often reduced to the status of director-for-hire, the kind of journeyman filmmaker that was most prominent during the Golden Age of Hollywood and churned out very strong work but sadly did not ascend to the ranks of being seen as an auteur, mostly since he made films that are known for their consistency and reliability rather than their innovation. This does an immense disservice to someone whose body of work is filled with memorable films (as well as featuring some of the best work done by many of his actors), and whose command of his craft was exceptional, if not very subtle. The Bishop’s Wife is one of the best representations of his skills since it’s an instance where his more quiet, nuanced approach is actually not only notable but one of the fundamental merits of the work. Koster’s greatest skill was his ability to cobble films together that are so simple but beautiful, they create a sense of comfort that is a wonderful antidote to the real-world circumstances that existed at the time – we saw more of this in films like Come to the Stable (which shares many thematic similarities with this film), Harvey and several of his other tremendous films. Much like Frank Capra, Koster crafted films in the post-war period designed to be a balm against the trauma of the conflict, an opportunity for escapism, but a specific kind that doesn’t intend to erase the past, but rather use it to motivate for a better future. Even though this sentiment sounds tacky and overly sentimental out of context, it makes sense when we consider the delicate balance between emotions that propel this film, and how the director carefully pieces together different ideas, some of which veer towards the more sentimental and others rooted in the cerebral, which creates a work that is both thought-provoking and genuinely moving. The stunning design of the film only emphasizes the warmth and comfort that Koster intends to convey, a combination that makes The Bishop’s Wife a far more enticing affair than simply yet another charming but hollow Christmas story.

There is a particular sensation that comes when watching a well-crafted Christmas film, and one that extends beyond the yuletide cheer and cosiness usually associated with these stories, and instead touches on something deeper, a specific kind of common humanity that is often neglected when looking at a season that has become materialistic to the point where its true meaning is seen as an afterthought in most instances. The Bishop’s Wife may be a film produced during a bygone era, and which is defined by the principles that were dominant at the time, but its relevance is undeniable, especially in terms of the underlying commentary that we find emerges as the story unfolds and we see what it truly intends to say. It’s the rare kind of film that presents itself as an effervescent, upbeat romp through the holiday season, but covertly has a much more complex set of themes that guide it forward, and which are gradually introduced as we venture deeper into the story and see the scope of its compassion and willingness to forego the obvious (and much easier) tropes, and instead embrace a more meaningful investigation into the human condition and all of its grandeur. Anchored by a trio of remarkable performances, and driven by a genuine sense of heartfulness and humour, The Bishop’s Wife is quite simply one of the great Christmas films, primarily because it isn’t bound by its setting – watching it at this time of year is undeniably effective based on its warmth and how it panders to the seasonal cheer, but there are qualities about it that make it much more evergreen, with its sincere empathy and the scope of its humanity making it an essential text on the subject of community, something that is inexplicably going out of style, and which this film serves to reiterate as the core of any strong society. Hilarious and heartwarming in equal measure, and deeply captivating in terms of both its concept and how it is executed, Koster’s work here is exceptional and lays the groundwork for one of the great comedies of its era, and one that remains a cherished classic for many generations.