CONCLAVE

Cast: Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow, Lucian Msamati, Carlos Diehz, Sergio Castellitto, Isabella Rossellini.

Director: Edward Berger

120 mins.

Faith and religion tend to be internalised in such intangible and romantic terms that its sometimes easy to overlook the inherent clash between the two. Where the former is a solitary and primal response to the mysteries of existence, the latter is an institutionalised, often political set-up with rules and traditions devised for the masses. In addition, where there is politics, there are often secrets, an inevitable hunger for power, and less-than-ethical means to attain it. A searing and impeccably designed Vatican procedural with today’s global political climate so obviously on its mind, Edward Berger’s Conclave is juicily perched at the intersection of this conflict between faith and organised religion. A gradually swelling, deeply intellectual and political thriller, Berger’s film takes the audience behind the notoriously secretive closed doors of the Catholic Church for one of its most private processes: the election of a new pope. Adapted from Robert Harris’ novel by Peter Straughan Conclave begins on the day of the sitting pope’s unexpected death. Berger and his Director of Photography Stéphane Fontaine lens the mournful proceedings with relentless precision—a blend of immersive long takes and cuts—until the pope is finally in a body bag, reinforcing the defining quality of the film that we’re about to see: artful, exceptionally well-choreographed, inch-by-inch exactness. In Berger’s studious and elegant hands, every ceremoniously cast vote, reaction image, severely worn regalia and quietly eventful meal that the cardinals share is packed with breathless, skin-prickling suspense. That temperament is escalated by Oscar-winning composer Volker Bertelmann’s gorgeous and formidable strings that slyly switch between staccato beats and restless cadences. There is also humour amidst the bureaucratic machinations—just picture a sternly garbed cardinal operating a loud, classy espresso maker in the holiest and most old-fashioned of settings. 

The election process, which goes multiple rounds over the course of several days, begins before we can even deliberate whether there is foul play in the pope’s untimely death (him being a man with various liberal viewpoints, unpopular with some). Overseeing the ritualistic conclave where all cardinals below a certain age are allowed to vote is Cardinal Lawrence (a quite magnificent Ralph Fiennes of silent inner battles, delivering one of his career-best performances), the dean of the College of Cardinals. Lawrence’s faith has been in crisis. Aware of that aforesaid conflict between his faith and the institution that he serves—the Catholic Church has a notoriously ill reputation on various accounts, from cases of sexual abuse to links to Nazism, and Lawrence reveals that he had actually resigned to the late pope, only for his resignation to be declined. Now, he just wants to complete his final duty and face an uncertain future. There are several serious candidates for the new pope, led by the outspokenly liberal Cardinal Bellini (Stanley Tucci), the scheming Trembley (a fiery John Lithgow) who is rumoured to have had a mysterious meeting with the pope shortly before he died, the proudly conservative Tedesco (Sergio Castellitto), and the volatile Adeyemi (Lucian Msamati), who’d become the first Black pope if he could sidestep his questionable past. With each passing day and unsuccessful vote, the front-runners reveal themselves in shocking ways, bringing the morality of their respective pasts into questioning. Observing on the margins is the placid and wise humanist Cardinal Benitez (Carlos Diehz, wonderful in his debut feature film performance), just recently appointed to the College by the late pope under enigmatic circumstances, all the way from Kabul (an unusual placement for a Catholic). And because there is no room for women in major roles within the infamously patriarchal and sexist ranks of the church, a scene-stealing Isabella Rossellini (playing the vigilant Sister Agnes and chillingly similar to her late mother Ingrid Bergman) is also amongst those silently watching from a distance. In one understated scene, it doesn’t escape Agnes that Benitez, in his prayer, remembers to thank the Sisters for tirelessly preparing the meal they’re about to enjoy, quietly conveying with her wordless reaction that this gratitude for women isn’t a common occurrence in the church. Across various glorious Cinecittà sets in Rome—one of which brings to life the breathtaking Sistine Chapel—multiple spoken languages, minimalist designs of colour contrasts, deliberately twirly camera moves, and a loving attention to detail in sound design, Conclave 

approaches its shocking and beautiful denoument with utter conviction - and it’s not toothless in its principles: throughout the film’s strictly interior world, the reminders of the horrors and heartbreaks of the outside remain very present, with suicide bombs, explosions, and instances of maddening intolerance taking place frequently. Conclave dreams of a kinder, bigger, and more inclusive version of the world—a world where doubt and faith go hand in hand, where one doesn’t have to choose between bad and worse, and absolutism is a sin. Conclave is stunning in every possible sense.