The Pope is dead. Now to elect a new one. This is the movie “Conclave,” getting lots of buzz.
It’s a sumptuous production, with a great cast, and much compelling drama. Though I frankly found it somewhat hokey.
I wouldn’t exactly say predictable. However, I guessed quite early the seemingly unlikely “dark horse” who’s ultimately elected. And that an ostensibly pointless brief mention of a Switzerland trip would later prove significant.
Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes) presides over the conclave, of the Roman Catholic Church’s 100+ strong “college of cardinals,” gathering in the Sistine Chapel to ballot. He’s a possible candidate himself, though doesn’t want that. So too says Cardinal Bellini (Stanley Tucci, always so watchable), even while behaving otherwise.
The pair are allied in wanting to stop Cardinal Tedesco (Sergio Castellitto), a Big Man, full of blusterous color, contrasting with the others’ dull gray. But he hates all the Church’s modern liberalization and reforms, a stance Lawrence and Bellini deem horrible.
Early ballots are very inclusive, divided among many names. Eventually the dynamic duo are forced to settle upon Cardinal Tremblay (John Lithgow), despite misgivings, as the last ditch hope of stopping Tedesco.
There’s conflicting information about a report revealing Tremblay misdeeds, created just before the late Pope’s death, and now missing. Lawrence manages to find it — in a scene really really hokey.
It says Tremblay was buying votes, for money. Now, I’m not naive, and certainly without faith in Catholic clergy integrity. (The film weirdly never mentions the pedophilia mess.) But how would one actually go about buying a cardinal’s papal vote?
“Hi Cardinal Denaro, it’s Cardinal Tremblay here. How ya doing? Good, good. Well, I’ll get to the point. You know, a new papal election may be coming. I’d like to have your vote. How’s about, say, ten thousand simoleons?”
I don’t think so. Too risky.
Lawrence and Bellini wince, yet still prioritize stopping Tedesco. But Tremblay’s candidacy blows up from something else.
Then a Muslim terrorist attack prompts a deranged Tedesco rant calling the Church a bunch of weenies for preaching respect for other faiths, when it should be literal holy war. Holy mackerel!
I turned to my wife, saying, “Time for some words from ________” (that dark horse I’d mentioned). The wise words come. A minute later, he’s pope.
The End. Well, almost. There’s something, ahem, unusual about the person (recall that Switzerland teaser). This could, maybe should, be a big deal. Yet it’s just thrown out there right before the curtain falls. Huh?
What struck me about the whole film was the solemn seriousness infusing it, and the people and actions depicted, all those men in elaborate costumes freighted with importance. All those portentous invocations of God. Yet underlying it all a foundation of — utter absurdity. There is no God. It’s just a childish fairy tale. Pathetic.
A feeling I actually experience quite often, observing human society. As though from Mars.
