'Conclave', dir. Edward Berger (120mins) | In Theatres November 29th, 2024
Edward Berger's Conclave is the second film I got the chance to see at this year's London Film Festival, and it's really, really good. I'm no stranger to the Catholic Church. And while I find some sort of nostalgic comfort in the Mass, I have to admit that I'm completely disillusioned with it. It's been a long time since I performed in Parish plays for my godmother, and a long time since I was taught that homosexuality was abominable in school as a teen. The unrelenting news stories of globe-spanning sexual corruption within the institution - at points covered up by the 'infallible' Pope himself - has led tens of millions to abandon their faith in the Church. While it once held so much power on both local and worldwide axis, the Cathedra Petri has never looked so uncomfortable.
It's within this wounded Church that Berger set's Conclave, a film which depicts the chaos at the head of the Church after a fictional Pope's sudden death. Though the official teachings of the Church dictate that Popes are elected via the channelling of the Holy Spirit as an enaction of God's will, this film depicts the reality of the matter. Cold, politicised factions triturate atop the Church for power and, as blocs emerge, scandals sprout from the Sistine's marble grout lines.
Trying to navigate these is the scarlet-clad conclave of cardinals who contrast violently with their bleached surroundings, peppering the screen like bloodstains on stone. But it's under the glare of their clinically lit, asylum-like bed-quarters that the paranoia thrives. Each Papal candidate, clad in holy garm, must reside here - sequestered - from the outside world until a successor to the Cathedra is appointed. The harsh UV lights are blisteringly exposing, inspecting our ensemble like counterfoil in a photocopier. And it's in this stubborn disquiet of tradition infringing on modernity where Conclave finds its spark. What already promised to be a brilliant political thriller here evolves into an even more interesting examination of not just the Church, but faith itself.
Ralph Feinnes leads this ensemble in the role of Dean 'Lawrence', entrusted by the late Holy Father to lead the conclave that would go on to elect his successor. His performance anchors everything. It's flawless. And several standout moments within the film should make him an unstoppable force in the 2025 awards season. Isabella Rossellini stars as the perceptive Sister 'Agnes', and though I was disappointed at how little screen-time she actually had I can't pretend she didn't dazzle when front-and-centre. Rossellini arguably walks away with the best scene of the film, and despite having barely 15 minutes on-screen I wouldn't be shocked to see her name circulate the Best Supporting Actress shortlists in the new year.
The true co-lead to Feinnes' Lawrence is Stanley Tucci. Tucci plays Cardinal 'Bellini', a prominent leader of the liberal faction within Vatican City. Despite apparently not wanting the Papacy himself, he believes the alternative - conservative Cardinal 'Tedesco' (Sergio Castellitto) - promises a future trajectory for the Church which is too dreadful not to campaign against. Tucci's performance is understated but always compelling. He moves across the screen with a warm opaqueness that's simultaneously untrustworthy and authoritative. It's hard to know him completely. It's hard to trust anyone at all. And around halfway through the film I did wonder if the narrative would take a Black Mirror style swerve and expose Feinnes' Lawrence as a reprobate protagonist.
I can't confirm or deny any of these suspicions because the joy of Conclave lies in surrendering to its hazy tension as much as in its perfect presentation. Berger directs this film with an eye that's graphic and bold. Multiple shots are genuinely breathtaking, and wouldn't look out of place in the music videographies of Matsoukas or Meyers. Of course, Matsoukas and Meyers are clearly students of historical painters like Caravaggio and Michelangelo, the latter of whom's artworks features prominently in the film's third act, adorning the Chapel ceiling.
This artistic ouroboros - a snake eating its own tail - is metaphoric for the Church. It is an institution that justifies its own value and importance on the velocity of tradition, hurtling eternally forward in pursuit of a piety that never was. It doesn't matter that the white smoke comes from a can, or that corruption leaks from the shadows. Sanctity is but a perspective.
Conclave suffers slightly in its pacing. This is quite the slow burn. But this unstoppable ensemble, captured through Berger's indubitable lens, delivers thrills and laughs even in a state of cruise control. I had so much fun with this one. Don't miss it.
★★★★½
Written by James Green
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