VERDICT: Oscar-winner Edward Berger’s papal thriller is flashy, pulpy, yet empty entertainment.
Combining the pulpy nonsense of a Dan Brown novel with the sheen and polish of prestige television, Oscar-winner Edward Berger’s Conclave nearly fools you into thinking it’s a serious high-stakes drama probing deep theological ideas. But for all the starry cast making the most out of the scenery-chewing screenplay, the latest awards season contender from the director of All Quiet On The Western Front reveals itself to be a fast-moving thriller as thin as a gilt-edged page of the Bible. Following on the heels of its Toronto bow, it plays early in competition at San Sebastian.
The Pope is dead, and his body isn’t even in the ground when Cardinals start campaigning to take over the holiest seat of the Catholic Church. Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), the Dean of the College of Cardinals — or as he calls himself, “the manager” — is tasked with leading the titular conclave. The process will find the Cardinals sequestered to cast votes, only to see the light of day once a majority has selected a new Pope. It’s like jury duty; in both cases, a man’s life hangs in the balance.
Lawrence himself commands the greatest respect of any of the candidates, but he doesn’t want the job. He’s not even sure he deserves to be part of the Church. Battling doubts about his faith, he asked the Pope to step down before his death, but his request was denied. Now, Lawrence believes the Pope wanted him to stay because he could be trusted to honorably lead the conclave after his passing. Certainly, there’s no shortage of scandal and skullduggery that Lawrence will need to navigate.
Cardinal Tremblay (John Lithgow) is overshadowed by potentially career-ending rumors. The extremely conservative Cardinal Tedesco (Sergio Castellitto) wants to Make The Pope Italian Again, while Nigerian Cardinal Adeyemi (Lucian Msamati) threatens to ideologically pull the Vatican back decades. And then there’s the surprise appearance of Cardinal Benitez (Carlos Diehz), who arrives from Kabul claiming he was appointed in pectore (in secret) by the late Pope. As Lawrence ponders all this, he pushes for his best friend, the progressive Cardinal Bellini (Stanley Tucci). As for Lawrence himself, his excessively humble manner has some wondering if it’s not a duplicitous tactic to feed his ambitions.
Power, Faith, and Responsibility are the capital letter themes that dangle like shiny sacramentals from the screenplay by Peter Straughan (Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy), but the writing never gets below the cassocks and ferraiolos the cardinals wear. Conclave plays like an entire season of House Of Cards smushed into a feature-length running time. It’s a pacey, walk-and-talk movie that agreeably shuffles its pawns — there is an early scene centered on a chess board — around each plot turn. But as the film wears on, one suspects the picture’s technical work is doing much of the heavy lifting.
There’s not a gleaming surface or sacred image that goes unnoticed by the smooth camera from cinematographer Stéphane Fontaine (Rust and Bone, A Prophet, Jackie). Whether gliding down hallways or lingering on frescoes, the photography is intent on letting the air inside the drama’s stuffy setting. It also manages to work around the clanging score by Volker Bertelmann, whose aggressively plucked strings heighten the tension, but threaten to overwhelm the performances that are working on an altogether different register.
Bringing an unflinching gravitas to the lead role, Fiennes is reliably impressive. His devout, yet spiritually shaken Lawrence delivers the film’s fortune cookie thesis in a centerpiece speech where he notes, “Certainty is the great enemy of unity, and the deadly enemy of tolerance.” The actor’s equanimity works well alongside a similarly conflicted Tucci, and their scenes together are often the rare moments of serenity in a picture that rarely pauses to gather its thoughts.
The rest of the ensemble are essentially avatars that represent different facets of church leadership, and while they don’t miss a step, it’s a shame that actors like Lithgow don’t have a bit more room to play. That’s not to mention Isabella Rossellini who appears in a small, almost entirely dialogue-free role as the film’s nun ex machina. Thankfully, the actress can do as much with her eyes as she can with any dialogue, and maybe it’s for the best she’s spared any ropey monologues.
Conclave winds and twists its way toward a staggeringly silly climatic reveal. The coup de grace won’t be spoiled here but it’s a serious misstep by Berger and Straughan, who try and steer the audience into a hamfisted statement about contemporary Catholicism and the world it operates in. More than any other move the picture makes, it’s the one that does the most to dissipate the drama like so much white smoke floating out of a chimney at the Vatican.
