Der Bingle burbles bubbly as a bouncy and hip priest sent in to Hail Mary a losing parish. Barry Fitzgerald plays the cantankerous older curmudgeon already running things, unaware that time has passed him by. There's nary a sermon in hearing, but plenty of singing to solve whatever problems that might show up in this lighthearted romp that gave the befuddled audiences of the day exactly the assurance they must've needed in the face of the burgeoning youth demographic. Not bad.

An unconventional priest works to reform a failing parish. I'm a big fan of Bing Crosby's voice; so easy and melodic, he makes it seem as though anyone can sing like him, which of course no one can. But this isn't a musical. It isn't a drama or comedy either. If anything, it's two hours of the most saccharine nonsense I've seen. At the heart of this diabetic's nightmare is Crosby's character, Father O'Malley, who is flawless. His character is never put up for question, and his methods, ideals, mannerisms, or personality remain thoroughly unchallenged by other characters, the film's circumstances, or any subjectivity. He is just there in an untarnished and idolized unreality. The film's problems, such as they are, seem no match for O'Malley, and we see him easily navigate the church's financial troubles, a woman who's run away from home, and an old flame who serendipitously re-enters his life. And when the film ends on another sweet note, I felt like I had just seen a slice of life that was so watered down with religious idealism that it bore no resemblance to anything I've seen living. Overall, there's nothing memorable about Going My Way except for the few moments when we get to hear Crosby sing, but for that you can buy the soundtrack and save yourself two hours.