The Bishop's Wife

Synopsis: An Episcopal Bishop, Henry Brougham, has been working for months on the plans for an elaborate new cathedral which he hopes will be paid for primarily by a wealthy, stubborn widow. He is losing sight of his family and of why he became a churchman in the first place. Enter Dudley, an angel sent to help him. Dudley does help everyone he meets, but not necessarily in the way they would have preferred. With the exception of Henry, everyone loves him, but Henry begins to believe that Dudley is there to replace him, both at work and in his family's affections, as Christmas approaches.
Genre: Comedy, Drama, Fantasy
Director(s): Henry Koster
Production: RKO Radio Pictures
  Won 1 Oscar. Another 4 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.6
Rotten Tomatoes:
83%
NOT RATED
Year:
1947
109 min
2,064 Views


Hark! The herald angels sing

Glory to the newborn King

Peace on earth and mercy mild

God and sinners reconciled

Joyful, all ye nations rise

Join the triumph of the skies

With th'angelic host proclaim

Christ is born in Bethlehem

Hark! The herald angels sing

Glory to the newborn King

Hail the heav'n-born Prince of Peace

Hail the Sun of Righteousness

Light and life to all He brings

Ris'n with healing in His wings...

- Oh. This is very kind of you.

- It's a privilege.

- Which way are you going?

- Over there. The Mutual Building.

- My doctor is in there. I have hopes.

- Fine.

- I'm all right now.

- Good luck to you.

- Thank you. Merry Christmas to you.

- Merry Christmas.

Mother, please lift me up! Please.

All right then. Just for a minute.

Look at that doll. Look at

the funny choo-choo train.

Come on now, darling. We have to go.

Oh, my baby! Oh, my baby!

Oh, my baby. Oh, you saved her.

Oh, thank God you saved my

baby. How can I ever thank you?

- Don't try. Just don't let it happen

again. - I promise I won't.

- Remember that. Now on your way.

- Yes.

It closely resembles its noble cousin

- the California red fir.

It's botanically dissimilar.

Pay me heed, Maggenti.

This is a specimen of the white fir

- Abies concolor.

Surely you, a native

Roman, know your Latin?

You wanna buy or not?

- Well, if it isn't my dear, beautiful

Julia. - Hello, Professor.

- What are you doing in this part of town?

- Buying a Christmas tree.

- Hello, Mr Maggenti.

- Mrs Brougham.

How much do you charge

for this miserable weed?

- $1.85. - $1.85! For

this half-hearted twig?

I shall pay you ten cents a

branch or take my trade elsewhere.

- What can I do for you, Mrs Brougham?

- You can save me that tree.

- The big one right by the door.

- OK.

Every Christmas for the past 18 years,

Maggenti and I have been

re-enacting the same argument.

I didn't know you celebrated Christmas.

I thought you had no religion.

That's true, my dear, but I

like to have a Christmas tree

because it reminds me of my childhood.

I feel, for some reason, that this is a

good time of year for looking backwards.

Can you imagine me ever

having been a child?

How's Henry? I haven't

seen him for some time.

Oh, he's well, thank you.

He's terribly tired and worried.

Is he having difficulty

raising money for the cathedral?

Yes. It's slow work.

- How's your book coming?

- Oh, splendidly.

Greatest history of Rome since Gibbon.

But, of course, nobody will read it.

Now, my good man, I do not choose to

prolong this tawdry bickering any further.

All right. Ten cents a branch.

- It's $1.40.

- Very well, my venal friend.

Here is your blood money.

Mr Maggenti, will you send

the tree up on Christmas Eve?

- But I don't want my daughter to see it.

- Don't worry.

I send it when the bambino

goes to bed. Merry Christmas.

- Merry Christmas!

- Merry Christmas! Come on.

There's something I'd like you to

give Henry for his cathedral fund.

That has been my lucky piece - not that

it's brought me luck, except knowing you.

It's an old Roman coin. I picked it up

years ago in Brindisi. It has little value.

- It's a wonderful contribution.

- Nonsense.

It might be called the "widow's mite" if it

weren't for the fact that I'm not a widow.

Why, Julia, this is

no occasion for tears.

It's stopped snowing.

If only we could spend Christmas

back here where we were so happy.

- With you and all of our old friends.

- Now, now, now.

Good night, Professor. I'll

see you again very soon.

It can't be soon enough.

Good night, Julia.

Why, Professor! How fine to see you again

after all these years. How well you look.

- How are you?

- Never better. And you?

Quite well also, thank you.

- I don't think you remember me.

- Of course I do. Where did we meet?

- Professor, after all these years...

- Just a moment.

- It wasn't Vienna, was it?

- Beautiful old Vienna.

The university. When I was

lecturing there on Roman history.

And what great lectures they were. And

what a one you were with the ladies.

Fancy you remembering that.

- I must confess, I had my moments.

- And still have.

- Where are you going?

- That car.

I couldn't help noticing your

tender parting from Julia.

- You know Julia?

- In a way, yes.

- Poor child.

- She's unhappy?

- When were you in Vienna?

- Oh, I've been there many times.

I'm interested in Julia and Henry.

What seems to be their trouble?

I never see Henry any more. He

has no time for riffraff like me.

He now consorts with the

vulgar rich, like Mrs Hamilton.

You know she had me fired from the

university here? Said I was a radical.

I, who have never taken any interest

in politics since the death of Nero.

Look at that. Henry's old

church, perishing from neglect.

- It's such a nice little church.

- Too little, I'm afraid.

It can't stand up against

the march of progress.

Well, I must be pushing on.

- Delighted to have seen you.

- A pleasure.

We must have a drink to

those old days in Vienna.

By all means!

- Good evening, Professor.

- Oh, Pat?

Have you any idea who that man is?

No. He's a stranger to me.

- Good evening.

- Good evening, Matilda. Hello, Queenie.

- Is Debby in bed yet?

- Yes, ma'am.

Mrs Hamilton and the committee

are in there with the bishop.

The dinner's been waiting a long time.

We didn't know what to do about it.

- We'll have dinner as soon as they leave.

- But what about the chicken?

Don't worry about it,

Matilda, please. Thank you.

Oh, Matilda. My bag.

Thank you.

Oh, I'm terribly sorry I'm so late.

Good evening, Mrs Hamilton. I

was delayed Christmas shopping.

Good evening, Mr Perry, Mrs

Trumbull. Hello, Mrs Ward.

I hope you've been

having a good meeting.

We have not. I've never in my life

encountered such fuzzy thinking.

- Do you think we've made any progress?

- No.

- Mr Perry was about to tell us something.

- Merely a suggestion.

If Mrs Hamilton approves,

we can place the George B Hamilton

Memorial Chapel here on the north-east.

It will be out of sight

there. I won't stand for it.

Mrs Hamilton, this cathedral cannot be

designed for the glory of an individual.

- It has to be created for all the people.

- I'm very displeased at your attitude.

I was instrumental in making you Bishop,

although others thought you too young.

- Is that an exaggeration?

- Oh, yes, Mrs... I mean, no.

- You were the guiding spirit.

- I distinctly remember...

I had confidence in you when you were

a poor little parson in the slums.

I confess my confidence is weakened.

I regret I've been a disappointment.

Regrets are no good whatsoever.

You give me the impression of being

confused, indecisive and ineffectual.

That is not the kind of

leadership we expect of our bishop.

You'd better remember one thing.

You will build that cathedral as I

want it or you will not build it at all.

That's all I have to say.

- Someone get this dog out of the way.

- Julia?

Queenie.

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Robert E. Sherwood

Robert Emmet Sherwood (April 4, 1896 – November 14, 1955) was an American playwright, editor, and screenwriter. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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