t Brookfield School in the heart of England, a nearby train whistle signals the arrival of a new flock of students. The start of the school year opens with an assembly to speak briefly on the rivalry with other institutions and the hope for good examination results, but also the unfortunate absence of Mr. Chipping (Robert Donat), whose 80-some years has put him under orders by the doctor to stay home. But he’s a stubborn old man; nothing will stop him from attending. That evening, he falls asleep, reminiscing about his considerable past with the institution, and the thousands of young boys he’s taught over the decades.

“I’m new, too. It’s not easy in the beginning.” The story reverts all the way back to Chipping’s own initial train ride to Brookfield (in 1870), where he one day aspires to be the headmaster himself, despite having no experience teaching whatsoever. And he’s in for a special treat from his pupils, who are all too aware of his inexperience; they’re eager to pull pranks, harass him and one another, interrupt and disrupt class, and instigate fights. It’ll take plenty of courage to keep these kids in line – to demonstrate an authority that won’t be so easily tested by mischievousness.

“Our business is to mold men.” Mr. Chips, as he’s fondly referred to, must learn to balance the shaky lines of discipline, respect, and friendship; a leader can’t be walked all over, nor can he be too severe. Time moves quickly in this tale; a mere 30 minutes in, the good-natured instructor already meets with one of his prior students, who is now all grown up. As fresh troves of prospects continue to throng through the gates of Brookfield, Chipping’s conflicts seem trifling: a housemaster position eludes him, he’s generally lonely, and he’s in desperate need of a change in his holiday routines. A lack of friends (Paul Henreid as Max Staefel is an exception), adventures, and other stimulations – such as of the feminine kind, wherein strong-minded, assertive, damsel-in-no-distress Katherine (Greer Garson) is needed – are his biggest problems.

“I suppose you think I’m old-fashioned.” An unlikely, largely unconvincing romance brews, which feels far removed from the initial premise of a painfully-timid teacher at an all-boys institution. Fortunately, it shifts the setting away from the stuffy university and toward the scenic mountainsides of Austria, where a touch of comedy brightens the mood. But the dalliance remains inauthentic; Donat and Garson possess minimal chemistry, while their parts are written with too much ease in their relationship. It’s an over-the-top, fairytale love story, even if it contains a few sweet moments (and some awkward sexism, in which a woman’s value and respect are based entirely on her attractiveness).

In the same way that Chips inspires his students (which isn’t always evident at the start), Kathy guides Chips; one can imagine that without her, he’d never amount to much, save for the simple seniority that would put him in a position for promotions. She’s a light in not just his life but also those of his students; she’s uncommonly keen to involve all those around her in her festivities. After her significant introduction and presence, time again zips by; newsworthy milestones mark the years and decades, while Chips is eventually pressured into resigning. Curiously, the staff and the incoming students support him vehemently, though it’s never explicitly shown just what his contributions are – save for longevity and quaint trademarks, like a raggedy gown.

“Chips has been here hundreds of years!” His monumental influence is suggested purely by his age and his visually unearned renown, not by his actions, which makes the character unmemorable and trivial. Donat does a decent job (particularly with the transitions into different ages), but the script paints his persona as a caricature, not a well-developed, endearing mentor whose impact reverberates through the lives and accomplishments of his graduates. Even his final achievement, that of headmastership, doesn’t come from merit but from a dearth of bodies due to the war; it’s a post he would never have come into under normal circumstances. At least the parting shots are pleasantly poignant. “Pity he never had any children.”

– Mike Massie