In the early days of his papacy, Pope Francis famously remarked when asked about his stance on LGBT issues: “Who am I to judge?” This statement resonated widely. A liberal Jesuit pope, His Holiness is known for his humility and progressive thoughts, which have since influenced the evolving dynamics of the Catholic Church. Edward Berger’s Conclave, with its dialectical themes and intriguing secrets, evokes the direction Pope Francis has shepherded the Church toward.
This is not the first film about the papacy, nor the first about conclaves—the process of electing a new pope. However, what Conclave brings to the table is unprecedented. It recalls the dialectical approach of The Two Popes (2019), a fictionalized account of the dialogues between Jorge Mario Bergoglio (Pope Francis) and Joseph Ratzinger (Pope Benedict XVI) regarding papal responsibilities and the Church’s discourse on tradition versus progress. It also echoes the themes of Habemus Papam (2011), a French film where reluctance plays a significant role in the proceedings. However, Conclave stands apart as both an intriguing and entertaining political thriller in the vein of The Ides of March, where change is inevitable, but its costs are immense for those involved. The film unfolds like a high-stakes reality show—almost claustrophobic and charged with sensation—though always out of necessity rather than for mere spectacle.
Labeling Conclave as the “Vatican Big Brother” isn’t entirely off the mark, given its similar sense of drama and the Sistine Chapel’s charged atmosphere. Likewise, calling it “12 Angry Cardinals” fits, as it captures the tension and isolation, even though the characters aren’t strictly confined to a single setting while they deliberate on the Church’s future. Berger’s directorial style, though at times pulpy, remains true to the conclave’s reality—the electoral process, the conflicts of interest, and the weight of judgment. As a result, Conclave emerges as an intensely gripping thriller, with Ralph Fiennes serving as the metronome that dictates the story’s tension, calm, and moments of synthesis.
Habemus Papam
The film opens with Fiennes’ Cardinal Lawrence walking heavily through the urban Vatican. His every stride carries weight, reflecting a heavy heart, yet there is urgency in his movement as he approaches the site where the current Pontiff has passed. The restlessness in this scene is reminiscent of Berger’s depiction of wartime urgency in All Quiet on the Western Front (2022). The gravity of the situation and its dire consequences are conveyed not through explicit chaos but through subtle movements and an underlying sense of turmoil.
With the pope’s death, the College of Cardinals, led by Lawrence, must elect a new leader for the Catholic Church. The process feels both ancient and eerily familiar—reminiscent of high-stakes political elections, where votes are often cast not for the ideal candidate but for the lesser evil. In his homily on the first day of the conclave, Lawrence speaks of the “sins of certainty,” urging his fellow cardinals to embrace doubt as a means of progress. His words act as a foreshadowing device, casting a shadow of doubt over the proceedings and hinting that every candidate may harbor skeletons beneath their elegant robes.
This is where The Two Popes comparison becomes even more apparent. A fundamental struggle unfolds over the direction the new pope will take. One faction advocates for a more liberal Church, emphasizing greater engagement with contemporary global issues, inclusivity regarding the LGBTQ+ community, the expanded role of women in religious life, and the acknowledgment of salvation beyond the Church—a stance echoing Lumen Gentium. The opposing faction argues that the Church has lost its way, believing that tradition must be upheld at all costs. To them, the pope is the unshakable rock—a mandate given to Simon Peter by Jesus Christ, and therefore, the Church must remain resolute in its theological stance and unwavering faith.
Lawrence and a popular candidate, Cardinal Aldo Bellini (Stanley Tucci), belong to the liberal faction. Meanwhile, conservative voices like Cardinal Tedesco (Sergio Castellitto) and other reactionary cardinals, who were also critics of the late pope, argue for preserving tradition. There are also moderate candidates with their own agendas. Cardinal Joseph Tremblay (John Lithgow), from the U.S., is a masterful strategist with undeniable charisma. Cardinal Joshua Adeyemi (Lucian Msamati) offers a fresh perspective from the Global South and aspires to become the first Black pope since Gelasius I in the fifth century. Entering the race late is in pectore Cardinal Vicente Benitez (Carlos Diehz), Archbishop of Kabul, a figure shrouded in secrecy by the late pope, whose work in conflict zones has won him admiration among some voters.
Since a conclave requires a two-thirds majority to elect a new pope and the Church preaches humility, the intrigue lies not in how candidates actively campaign but in the covert maneuvering to prevent rivals from being elected. Conclave thrives on these undercurrents of political machination, where backstabbing takes place behind closed doors. The irony is palpable: while these cardinals invoke divine guidance in every decision, their actions often seem anything but holy.
The isolation also serves as a catalyst for the film’s stance on the Church’s view of global politics—with some cardinals reacting to outside world events in a way that caricatures their perspectives. Some let silence speak, while others are vocally assertive. Tedesco is the most reactive of them all, counterbalanced by Lawrence’s placidity. Their reactions, though sometimes lacking subtlety, deliver one powerful blow after another, all under the pretense that what truly matters is how the Church is perceived by the outside world.
A Via Dolorosa
The narrative unfolds like the Stations of the Cross—episodic but necessary. Every conflict arises sequentially, like beads of a rosary. Characters are assigned conflicts as they leave their mark on the unfolding story. Hidden beneath the surface are carefully placed twists that may not always be subtle but are undeniably impactful.
The episodic structure also serves as a reflection on the Church’s sins. While everyone may be guilty in different ways, judgment is subjective—especially between opposing factions. Cardinal Lawrence, our compass, weighs his colleagues’ culpability while reflecting on the human side of Catholicism. Yet, he is not without flaws; his own doubts about his vocation make his homily a deeply personal reflection, which some mistake as ambition.
Conclave does not shy away from exposing the Vatican’s most well-known failings. One cardinal represents the sins of adultery and abuse of power—an issue Spotlight highlighted years ago. Another embodies rigid, black-and-white thinking in the name of radicalism. Tremblay, with an American perspective, is overtly political and ambitious, his agenda barely concealed. Even the liberal cardinals are flawed; despite their progressive aspirations, their commitment falters, leading to hesitation among voters.
Berger’s direction, transliterating Peter Straughan’s adaptation of Robert Harris‘ novel, crafts a thriller built upon conversation—both between characters and within the broader theological discourse. The film is at its best when characters are engaged in conversation — they argue and negotiate; they confess and they listen. When the screen is devoid of dialogues, cinematography speaks, i.e., contrasting subdued tones of the Vatican setting that even overshadows the frescoes with the bright red of the cardinals’ robes, underscoring urgency. Stéphane Fontaine‘s cinematography subtly renders female characters—mostly nuns—almost invisible, mirroring Catholicism’s patriarchal nature. When Isabella Rossellini’s Sister Agnes breaks this invisibility, it is a striking moment, reminding the Church that women’s roles matter.
Fiennes’ performance guides us through these moral turmoils like a shepherd leading his flock. Seen through Lawrence’s eyes, Conclave makes its stance clear: it criticizes the Church from a liberal perspective while also challenging progressives to reform and understand the opposing side. Berger’s film carries that weight of judgment, unfolding as a claustrophobic thriller where intrigue, politics, and faith collide. It is beautiful, bold, and at times as challenging as faith itself, yet Fiennes’ commanding presence leads us through with a humbling sense of triumph.
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