The Bishop’s Wife (1954), dir. Henry Koster. Heights Theater, Thursday, December 8.

Some Christmas movies are just plain earnest, their emotions visible for all to see, the story and the direction serviceable, but that service is to the communication of what the holiday should mean to all of us–the joys of gathering together, of kindness, of sharing, and especially love, spiritual and perhaps even physical. That’s beautiful.

And some Christmas movies are just plain earnest, their emotions visible for all to see, the story and direction serviceable, because the participants are stuck with a mediocre director, dull plot and actors, maybe even good actors, totally incapable of overcoming these glaring shortcomings. That’s The Bishop’s Wife. It’s the worst Christmas movie I’ve seen in probably a decade.

Here’s your story: Cary Grant plays Dudley, an angel. He is responding to the prayers of Bishop Henry Brougham (David Niven), who is desperately trying to make this ludicrously large cathedral in some unnamed major city. His long-suffering wife is Julia (Loretta Young), who has prayers of her own–she wants her husband to be a good husband, father to their daughter, and kind to parishioners. They have a pal from their past, Professor Wutheridge (Monty Woolley), who is just there to move the plot along when there’s nothing to say. Often, there’s nothing to say.

So, the Bishop and his wife live in an enormous house with a servant, a cook and a secretary. Julia wears furs. She wants an expensive hat (that’s hideous). The Bishop wants to get the wealthy jerks in his parish to pledge enough money to make the cathedral. The wealthy ones are all horrible people, and for whatever reason, they’re all women. The point, supposedly, is that the Bishop, an unpleasant character who is never once warm or funny except when it seems as though he’s trying to get something, will learn to appreciate the good things in life, like his family and the poor, etc., etc. Complicating matters is that supposedly Dudley is falling in love with Julia, which, I guess, whatever.

Dudley has superhuman powers. Yeah, I know, he’s an angel. But the great angels, like Clarence in It’s a Wonderful Life, or Santa in Miracle on 34th Street, or the numerous angels in any Twilight Zone episode, or the gangs of Bauhaus angels in Wings of Desire all share the same trait–namely, that they can barely influence humans or life itself. They’re not there to just swoop in and make the bad stuff go away and good stuff remain. Really, they’re there to help humans get out of their own mess. And they’re barely capable of that.

But that’s not Dudley’s m.o. He can change people’s thoughts outright, decorate a tree magnificently with a wave of his hand (yeah, thanks for that, man, there’s nothing worse than having to decorate your own fucking tree), file note cards away instantly, can skate better than an Olympic gold medalist, and can cruelly discover passionate secrets about old women in order to manipulate them. At one point, he tells a story to the Bishop’s daughter (Karolyn Grimes, Zuzu from Wonderful Life) about David and a lion, and he states openly that angels put ideas into people’s heads, it’s not actually their doing, and even implies that people should stop taking credit for, well, for running their own lives. Angels do that. Well, thank you for that, puppetmaster.

Then Dudley recites the Lord’s prayer. Now, I haven’t mentioned that Cary Grant is perhaps the worst person to play this role. I would argue this is the worst casting of Grant’s long career–I’ve seen a ton of his films, he might be my favorite actor. He’s awful. This is the Grant of North by Northwest, Arsenic and Old Lace, Notorious–that perfect hair, that perfect smile, that perfect suit. This role calls for the friendly disheveled nature of Jimmy Stewart, the goofy Stewart of Harvey. When Grant recites the prayer with that smile of his, it reminded me of the weird salesman-like dude who used to try to lure my brother and I to Christianity with comic books and baseball trinkets in the 1970s. It’s nothing but creepy.

And this is a movie that’s focused on the well-off. Obviously, the Bishop learns to set aside the cathedral and to turn his attention on the poor and the downtrodden. We know this is going to happen, and yet it’s the worst kind of patronizing. In fact, we never see the poor. The Bishop doesn’t change his mind because of direct contact with anyone who needs the church’s help. It’s because the angel manipulates the rich old woman who’s being a mean freak about the new cathedral, cruelly withholding money unless a chapel bears her dead husband’s name, and then gets her to give all her money to the meek. Then Dudley lectures The Bishop because, honestly, the dope still doesn’t seem to get it.

At one point, Julie begs her husband to have a date, just a walk in the park and a dinner at Michele’s, their favorite restaurant, to live like they used to before he was bishop. I was imagining a quaint little eatery, with checkerboard table cloths, candles shoved into chianti bottles, warm and inviting and modest. Well, Dudley takes her there later (when The Bishop is called away), and it’s a full-fledged upscale French restaurant, white table cloths and waiters in tuxedos, five stars all the way (in fact, a trio of wealthy old women, patrons of the church, are also there). Julie wears a fur coat. Dudley buys her the dumb hat she wants (I don’t know how, it’s made clear he never has any money), and, later, a clearly pricey doll for the child.

If your Christianity works where your angels ignore the plight of really oppressed people so that they can mess around with wealthy white folks and do party tricks, like creating a bottle of brandy that is always full (but, as noted later, never makes you drunk–I get the feeling that was tossed in on a second draft), then The Bishop’s Wife is for you. I would describe it as creepy and disturbing and, worst of all, boring.

Best overheard quote about the movie: “So this angel is hundreds of years old and the one woman he falls in love with is… Loretta Young?”