Conclave: In the Name of the Father, the Son, and Holy Power

Ask me about the democratic voting systems of Western nations, or the not-so-democratic workings of some Arab states, and I would be able to furnish your mind with some insight. Ask me about the selection process of a new Pope, and you would find my knowledge about as expansive as the Papal wardrobe. Thankfully, German-born Swiss director Edward Berger, with his latest cinematic offering Conclave, fills the void.

The film opens with the death of a reigning pontiff and the start of Sede Vacante, the Vatican’s interregnum. From that moment on, the burden of overseeing the election falls to Cardinal-Dean Thomas Lawrence, played by Ralph Fiennes. Fiennes plays Lawrence with skillful nuance, not with the pompous superiority one might expect from such a man in his position, but a quiet hesitancy. As the narrative unfolds, we come to understand the hesitancy is born from his personal conflict with faith. With the Cardinals sequestered in the Sistine Chapel, religious divisions, political factions, corruption, and, above all, the thirst for power underpin the film’s themes. The movie feels less like a fictional narrative and more like allegory.

Cardinal Tedesco, played brilliantly by Sergio Castellitto, is the film's primary antagonist. A charismatic yet sinister character, who embodies current Italian right-wing populism. He espouses his overtly racist and Islamophobic rhetoric with truthful parody and pontificates with the bravado and machismo lifted straight from the playbook of the soon-to-be U.S. president. His supporters, like some of the high-profile supporters of Trump, rally behind him not out of faith or conviction, but out of cold, pragmatic self-preservation. They see in him a means to retain their waning power and privilege in a world that grows increasingly secular.

Standing in the shadows, whispering warnings in darkened corridors, is Cardinal Bellini, played by the ever-astute Stanley Tucci. Bellini is the progressive liberal and a voice of reason and hope. He fears that the election of a man like Tedesco will undo much of the delicate progress the Church has made in recent years, particularly in its outreach to marginalized communities — communities that, for centuries, the Church had shunned, vilified, and condemned. It is a clash not just of men, but of eras.

The film is shot with an almost sterile quality, matched in its set design. Most of the film’s drama unfolds in the prison-like rooms and corridors of Domus Sanctae Marthae, a hotel-like residence for the Cardinals. There is a noticeable sound of vacuumed air when the door to a room is closed, as though the rooms are the only true safe place for the Cardinals — a place where they can be themselves, along with the honesty of their thoughts. The cinematography is clean and minimal and does not distract from the drama of the film, contrary to the lazy and shaky handheld camera movements found in many of today’s films. In contrast, clear effort is made in the blocking of character movements, which gives beauty to the frames. Beauty amplified by the pristine blood-red and cream robes worn by the Cardinals, and the stunningly frescoed ceilings of the Sistine Chapel.

The film progresses with a sense of urgency that crescendos with an event that alters the story’s outcome. Throughout, the urgency is amplified by sinister and aggressive strings woven through scenes by composer Volker Bertelmann, who won an Academy Award for his previous collaboration with Edward Berger in All Quiet on the Western Front.

Conclave is one of the best films I’ve seen in recent years. Its genius lies in its ability to tap into the current political zeitgeist, making it a perfect mirror of our times.