Now that the film Conclave has enjoyed a month of healthy box-office and mostly positive buzz, it’s probably safe to spring the spoiler right away: The new Pope elected in the movie looks like a man, but also has a uterus and ovaries and is, therefore, also a woman.
Surprise! But you already knew that, didn’t you?
At first, such a final plot twist feels gratuitous and possibly sacrilegious in this fictional tale of Roman Catholic cardinals playing politics in the Vatican to choose the next Holy Father because the old one just died. Even some viewers who like Conclave object to this late surprise.
Although the story could have ended without it, this final flourish — an intersex pope — suits the overall spirit of the script. Its themes include ambiguity and the fallibility of dedicated, spiritual people (men) who really believe (most of them, anyway) that they speak on behalf of God.
Sounds perfect for Catholic bashing; some Hollywood heathens might make such a setup into mockery. But here, director Edward Berger (All Quiet on the Western Front) and several first-rate actors avoid such temptation. They give cynicism, hypocrisy, and avarice a kind of respect bordering on reverence.
As a result, Conclave — based on a book by Robert Harris — mixes serious questions, pointed dialogue, doubts about certitude, superb acting, gorgeous visuals, lots of allegorical touches, and enough parallel plot lines and ominous silences to make the film’s two hours pass at a brisk pace.
It is rated PG, with little violence, no sex on screen, and no cursing, not even in Latin, although the epitaphs “Judas!” and “Traitor!” are shouted in anger and “simony” is merely whispered. Snappy dialogue includes one cardinal telling another they should compromise on a flawed candidate.
“And have Tremblay as Pope?” says one.
“We’ve had worse,” says the other.
Asking this question is Cardinal Thomas Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), a British dean of cardinals and manager of the papal balloting who is burdened by his duty and feeling the pressure of sequester by day in the Sistine Chapel and by night in a borrowed convent.
Answering that question is the American Cardinal Bellini (Stanley Tucci). The man they discuss, Cardinal Tremblay (John Lithgow), turns out to be a sanctimonious, dirty dealer from Canada. His election-tampering is exposed, in part, by a nun called Sister Agnes, (Isabella Rossellini).
“Although we sisters are supposed to be invisible,” she explains, “God has nevertheless given us eyes and ears.”
As a femme fatale (of a sort), Sister Agnes also assists in the demise of the lead Black character, Cardinal Adeyemi of Africa (Lucian Msamati). He is a candidate until we learn that he fathered a child many years before. That mother arrives at the conclave as a nun.
A minor yet delightful role goes to Sergio Castellitto, who plays the Italian Cardinal Tedesco, who wants the Church to return to Italian popes and Latin Mass and then make war on Islam. The bearded Castellitto overplays his scenes with the brio of a practiced ham.
“Who fights these animals?” he asks in anger. Catholics around before Vatican II will recognize his type.
Carlos Diehz plays the unknown Cardinal Benitez — the surprise winner — who arrives unannounced and is a mystery because he was secretly named a cardinal by the previous pope who kept it quiet because Benitez worked in dangerous places like Afghanistan.
“I am as God made me,” the new Pope says, after the election, in explaining their gender to Cardinal Lawrence. “I know what it is to exist between the world’s certainties.”
Needless to say, not all reviews of Conclave have been positive. Condemnation came from the Catholic web site Angelus in a review by Stefano Rebeggiani. “Anti-Catholic bias aside,” he wrote, “‘Conclave’ is just plain bad.”
He also called it a “badly-written, poorly-researched, half-baked mystery that takes itself far too seriously but turns at times into unwitting comedy.”
No review of Conclave can ignore the scene in which a terrorist explosion blows a hole in the Chapel. Lighter touches include a chessboard at the dead pope’s bedside and a bird locked in a cage and Cardinal Lawrence, in the final scene, throwing open a window to sunlight and fresh air.
Oh, and all the shots of hot, red votive candles always flickering all the time in rooms with red walls around men wearing red robes and red skull caps and all those dark interiors that nevertheless pop so vividly under the sure eye of the cinematographer Stephane Fontaine.
When they finally light up the white smoke to signal the selection of the new Pope, the viewer expects to see it. In one of many exquisite editing touches, you only hear the sound of the whooshing of the flames.
This might be a tongue-in-cheek counterpoint to scenes of clusters of nervous cardinals, standing outdoors around an interior courtyard, lighting up cigarettes and smoking furiously. Another fire moment shows a cardinal blowing out a candle to emphasize the end of a terse conversation.
Last, a final wry touch: The new name of the new pontiff. The winner reaches deep into church history to proclaim themselves Pope “Innocent.” If you look to be offended by Conclave, there’s plenty there to dislike. But if you seek insightful entertainment in a serious setting, this picture is it.
