Word: malleys
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Australians were chuckling last week over a literary hoax as fantastic as a duckbilled platypus. Editor Max Harris, of Adelaide's long-haired little review, Angry Penguins, had introduced the work of a new poet named Ern Malley with a 30-page rhapsody explaining, with deadly and Dadaistic earnestness, why Malley was "one of the two giants of contemporary Australian poetry...
...some slow moments, "Going My Way" is certainly the best picture to have hit Boston in many months, and is, in a modest way, something of a revolution in movie-making. The story itself is of the simplest. To the poverty-stricken parish of Father Fitzgibbons comes Father O'Malley, ex-ballplayer (St. Louis Browns), ex-songwriter, who whips up a few hit tunes, pays off the mortgage, solves most of the local problems, including juvenile delinquency and generaly makes himself useful...
...story, without rich characterization, would be nothing much. A young priest (Bing Crosby) is sent by his bishop to help out an old one (Barry Fitzgerald) in Manhattan's mortgage-ridden St. Dominic's. For a while, they do not get along; but young Father O'Malley fixes up everything else almost too easily. He deals with a delinquent girl (Jean Heather) so silkily that before long she is married. He handles the jail-fodder kids of the street so astutely that before long they are singing Mozart's Ave Verum and liking it. He even...
...loving attention to character, and some magnificent acting. Father Fitzgibbon might have been any brogue-rippling old male biddy. But as Fitzgerald portrays him-senile, vain, childish, stubborn, good, bewildered, stupid-he is the quintessence of the pathos, dignity and ludicrousness which old age can display. Father O'Malley, still more dangerously, might have been one of those brisk, bland up-&-comers who have made an impure science of "not acting like a priest at all." Instead he is subtle, gay, debonair-a wise young priest whose arresting resemblance to Bing Crosby never obscures his essential power...
...Seaton; produced by John Golden) tries to perk up a tale of mousy living people by introducing some lively dead ones. The spirits are a just-dead, good-natured New England paterfamilias (Harry Carey) and his long-dead, thick-brogued, high cockalorum of a father (J. Pat O'Malley). They scuttle, garrulous and unobserved, about the parlor watching the effect of death on the household, bemoaning their earthly shortcomings, trying by spectral ruses to straighten out the mess in which the dead man left his affairs...