Conclave (2024)

Score: 4 / 5

Suffice to say, we're in awards season. Perhaps the most surprising title for me was Conclave, which arrived in cinemas without much fanfare, promising a Catholic talkie thriller somewhere between a Robert Langdon religiopolitical caper and a Socratic dialogue in dramatic form a la The Two Popes. In fact, that's about what it delivers! Based on the 2016 novel by Robert Harris, the story concerns a pope's death and the subsequent papal conclave tasked with electing the next Holy Father. A chamber piece of densely layered writing and ferocious performances, Conclave may not win any converts to the faith, but for those with any ounce of religious identity (or religious trauma), it offers insightful, incisive boons designed to provoke serious reflection on the power of institutionalized faith and the dangers of dogmatic adherence.

Cardinal-Dean Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes) leads the College of Cardinals into seclusion shortly after the pope dies of a sudden heart attack. It is to be his duty to shepherd the cardinals during this time of debate and transition, and he seems all to aware of the threat of inevitable skullduggery. Having been one of the first to the dying pope's bedside, Lawrence is meant to be our guide as well through the story, seemingly an intelligent and kind man who truly wants what's best for the global church. He gathers the cardinals into sequestered dormitories in Rome for the duration of the conclave, ushering them to and from the Sistine Chapel for periodic silent votes for one of the four main candidates. But Lawrence quietly reveals early on that he doubts his role and the outcome so much that he planned to step down from this position. He claims to not want to know gossip or slander about the viable candidates, yet his ever-observant gaze catches more than one unseemly slight, and when this happens, he pursues it often farther than he probably should to understand more fully the problems of these pious men. 

A film like this could easily slip into exploitation territory, but the profound humanness on display, especially from Lawrence, keep things grounded. The sensitive screenplay by Peter Straughan allows the candidates their moments of problem without painting any as wholly virtuous or villainous: past sins surface, gross schemes to garner votes are unveiled, and theocratic debates erupt about what kinds of policies and practices should be embraced by the church. Lawrence himself acknowledges the church's historical (and recent) failings several times, and seems intent on safeguarding and cultivating the church's good reputation. His ideological high-wire act, then, is what makes the film such a compelling mystery-thriller, far more than plot points.

Thankfully, director Edward Berger and cinematographer Stephanie Fontaine work together with their editor to keep us focused on the major players in this game of thrones (specifically, the throne of Saint Peter). And they've got some of the best players around, including John Lithgow, Sergio Castellitto, Isabella Rossellini, and an outstanding if underused Stanley Tucci. Each has an agenda, and what they say does not always match what they do, though perhaps that in itself is a writerly choice by the filmmakers to carefully critique identity politics at work in the logic of the film's characterizations. Labels are not helpful here: actions and intended actions are a far better proof of faith than mere words, though words can so often be damaging, especially to a church notorious for weaponizing them.

While performances and dialogue riveted this viewer to his seat, the ambiance and visuals of red-robed men in rows of pews or pacing through the architectural paradise of Vatican City are more than enough to guarantee a pleasant experience in watching Conclave. Breaking apart binaries is the name of the game, here, and while it might be easy to discuss doubt and faith or progress and tradition, by the final twist -- and indeed there is one, though its efficacy might be a tad on-the-nose -- the clearest target of anti-binarism in the film is that of us and them. Who are "we" and what are "we" doing to or for "them," but of course our access to the cardinals reveals that they aren't much more than average men, bickering and squabbling for piety, power, or something in between. Placed in a veritable puzzle box of policy and politics, no one will escape unchanged.