Ralph Fiennes shines in this joyously juicy tale of Papal Succession.
Director: Edward Berger Starring: Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, Isabella Rosellini, John Lithgow, Sergio Castellitto, Carlos Diehz, Lucian Msamati Running Time: 120 minutes
At the modern movieplex a false choice is often presented to the audience, that they must only either ‘turn their brain off’ for IP and blockbusters or clock-in for the ‘vitally important’, the ‘must-see’ intellectual affairs. But there is and always has been a third way; just as there are ‘potboiler’ books, stimulating for the brain but only for as much time as it takes to finish them, so too there are movies – courtroom dramas, twisty thrillers, emotional melodramas – that hook into the part of the audience brain that wants to be shocked, surprised, scandalised. That wants to be trashy, thoughtfully. For viewers who have lost faith in the movies’ ability to tantalise those specific senses, Conclave is a divine sign, and the praise does be on high for it.
Adapted from a book by airport novel extraordinaire Robert Harris, the premise of Conclave at first glance seems dense and dour – a meeting of cardinals at the Vatican to elect a new Pope. Director Edward Berger (most recently of the Oscar winning All Quiet on the Western Front) films the opening scenes in ominous low lights and angles, focusing on the stiff, serene body of the previous Papa who died peacefully in his sleep, surrounded by crestfallen insiders. Candid establishing shots of holy men smoking, of tables being set and bedrooms being prepared aims to create an on-the-ground, documentarian air, like we’re genuinely stepping behind the curtain of one of the few real-life events that remains relatively shrouded in mystery.
Tasked with organising the conclave is Ralph Fiennes’ sad eyed Cardinal Lawrence, already experiencing a crisis of faith even before the Catholic equivalent of being rostered for stock check. Fiennes shines, his trembling delivery and cloudy eyes perfect for a starched shirt character battling a range of emotions: grieving, resenting his middle manager status, scrambling to keep on top of things, burying his own excitement when he starts to genuinely emerge as a potential successor. The appearance of a cardinal secretly appointed by the Pope to serve in Afghanistan is the first of many over-the-top revelations. Every favourite for the job has their own secrets and shortcomings. The papal politics that we are shown is of a Church struggling to assert its identity in a new world, having its own crisis of faith after the death of a (relative to the Catholic Church, let’s stress) liberal leader. Ultimately there’s a gentle suggestion that in the face of unending mystery, open minds and hearts might be the best path forward, in the Church and beyond. Stanley Tucci’s Cardinal Bellini also leans left, but is unassertive and doesn’t play to the gallery. John Lithgow’s Cardinal Tremblay, a much more image-focused politician, has the familiar hollow approach of unctuous centrists. Cardinal Adeyemi would be popular as the first black pope, but is homophobic even by Church standards. Cardinal Tedesco, the conservative favourite, is a dinosaur who bitches almost as much as he vapes. It’s all to play for.
As the cast of cardinals descend on the Vatican to vote, the way that their own hidden agendas unfurl from behind stone-faced seriousness aligns with the film’s playful energy underneath its subject matter.
How much of that is down to Berger is unclear, his camera a straight man willing or otherwise to the machinations and muckraking it depicts, but the script by Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy screenwriter Peter Straughan threads that needle, as it were. The piety belies a much simpler story of ambitions and opportunism – when one character asserts that every cardinal, no matter how remote their chances of ever taking the papacy, has a Pope name in their back pocket, a much more relatable understanding of the proceedings clicks into place. The jockeying for position, squabbling and squandering of pole position is thrillingly twisty, but also wryly funny. When the candidates swap subtle digs, peacock, postulate, and well, pontificate, the film really comes alive. In the Church of course, reading is fundamental.
The exceptional performances also ensure the film remains loosened up, an enjoyable indulgence of watching actors doing some Capital-A Acting. Nothing is more simultaneously ‘dudes rock’ and for the girls and gays than watching aging character actors tell each other “you will NEVER be Pope” for two hours, at times gutting, at times cutting, from thrilling to camp and back again. The likes of John Lithgow and Stanley Tucci were born to end up on screen wearing vestments, their baggy silhouette the bigger to throw shade in. Isabella Rosellini is delightfully damning as a nun, inevitably sidelined but well placed from there to place her thumb on the scale. But an unsung MVP might be Irish acting expat Brian F. O’Byrne, as Cardinal Lawrence’s assistant bishop. O’Byrne does better line readings in the pauses before he dishes dirt than some actors do in an entire career of line readings. Every time he told Fiennes that he really mustn’t reveal information, or really didn’t find anything……however, the energy in the preview audience took on an ever more panto-like anticipation.
Surprisingly energised and richly performed, Conclave is a playful and satisfying experience of going along for the ride. Keep the faith in the film and beyond those locked Vatican doors, weary and weighted, there’s a papal party for calming all your nerves.
(4 / 5)