Trigger Warnings: mentions of racism, homophobia, discrimination
Conclave might just be the most exciting depiction of a papal gathering to date. A star-studded thriller recurrently demonstrates why the underpinnings of democracy are crucial to keeping the modern age functional. It serves as both a political allegory and an entertaining character study.
A group of ageing cardinals, brimming with ambition, sequester themselves to elect a replacement for the recently deceased pope. The viewer is treated to expansive vistas of the stunning Sistine Chapel, a symbol of the Vatican’s opulence. The slick cinematography is as richly coloured as a Titian painting. Led by the Englishman Thomas Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), the incumbent and reluctant Dean of the College of Cardinals, secrets and scandals begin emerging from each prospective candidate.
Watching middle-aged men of the cloth, surrounded by the ornate display and elaborate rituals so emblematic of Catholicism, volley insults that become increasingly less delicately phrased at each other and reveal unsavoury traits that render them unsuitable for the papacy is a surefire way to earn laughter.
Every scene flows smoothly into each other, suiting the tension throughout the film. Will the next pope continue his predecessor’s agenda, or roll it back? A shining example of this driving question is when it is pointed out that there will never be a perfect pope in power, reminding the audience that there had been a previous pope who was part of the Hitler Youth in a biting line that also obliquely critiques the long-standing and historic fascisms of the Church that are making an unfortunate resurgence in contemporary society.
Fortunately the clever social commentary almost, but never, becomes overdone: the movie features papal electors who divide themselves unwittingly by sitting with exclusively their own countrymen, the downfalls of a homophobic arch-conservative who impregnated a teenage nun and a racist reactionary who longs for a holy war between different religious groups, the otherwise progressive candidate who was ultimately enough of a status seeker to accept a bribe from a conservative rival in order to stay in power. All of this grounds the film in reality.
This movie investigates predominantly the benefit and need of doubt and as a whole is more invested in human nature than the divine.
The Dean notes in a sermon that ‘if there was only certainty and no doubt, there would be no mystery, and therefore no need for faith’ and explicitly declares his wish for a pope who will doubt and sin but learn from his mistakes. This movie investigates predominantly the benefit and need of doubt and as a whole is more invested in human nature than the divine. Examples can be seen in the tirades about good versus evil, the repeated emphasis on how Lawrence’s drive to uncover the truth is motivated by his unfulfilling work which he only performs out of loyalty to the late pope. Information makes its way to him in stealthy ways as befitting the planted seeds of intrigue: a whispered collegial conversation in a shadowy alcove, a forced entry into a cavernous baroque room. Volker Bertelmann’s ominous string-laden score paired with the suffocatingly dark rooms and hallways perfectly enhances the state of division and paranoia the Cardinals are in.
Quiet, polite archbishop Vincent Cardinal Benitez (Carlos Diehz) is revealed to have been secretly ordained as cardinal by the late pope. Having served in war-torn geopolitical hotspots, he is the only member of the College of Cardinals not engrossed in the politicking and scheming involved in vying for power. Despite the doubts of his fellow cardinals, with one even dismissively asking ‘How many Catholics are there in Afghanistan?’, he proves himself as truly kind and compassionate as someone who dedicated his life to helping others would be, and exhibits nerves and a spine of steel when calmly rebuking an Islamophobic rant towards the climax of the film. ‘I know what it is to exist between the world’s certainties’, he says serenely at the end of the movie, proudly embracing his nature and calling back to the homily made by the Dean.
‘A’ Catholic interpretation of Mean Girls meets The Death of Stalin
Notably, he is the only man in the movie to not dismiss the nuns, acknowledging and thanking them for their hard work. It is this that reminds the viewer of the ultimate patriarchal structure of the Catholic Church: there is a grand total of one woman who speaks in the movie, and she is only accorded this due to her position as superior to other religious women who meekly serve the feckless red-clad prelates. ‘God has given us eyes and ears,’ she spits as she denounces a corrupt cardinal in front of all his peers, but the movie had not seen fit to give most of these women voices.
A delight from beginning to end, this Catholic interpretation of Mean Girls meets The Death of Stalin is an aesthetically stunning exploration of human foibles. Simultaneously rigorously repressed and feebly grandiose, the ending twist which so utterly subverts that long patriarchal reign is a particularly appreciated detail to this visual feast of storytelling. The sense of so many stories taking place in this secluded, mysterious world and its inner workings, with the small-scale dynamics as sweeping and huge as any grand tragedy, is a beautifully formative experience. If perhaps not the most faithful construction of what actually happens in Rome, the warnings of how structural authority can corrupt is as apt and timely as ever. And to that I say amen. As one cardinal says, ‘we serve an ideal, we cannot always be ideal’: if they were, would this movie be nearly as excellent as it is?
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