Conclave

In the heart of the Vatican, where the echoes of centuries-old prayers linger in the air, a profound silence descends. The Pope has passed away, and the weight of the Catholic Church now rests on the shoulders of its most powerful leaders. The time has come for the conclave—a sacred and secretive process where cardinals are cloistered away to elect the next Vicar of Christ. But this time, behind the solemn rituals and whispered prayers, a web of mystery, conspiracy, and moral dilemmas begins to unravel.

This is the premise of Conclave, a gripping narrative that masterfully blends faith, politics, and human frailty. Adapted from Robert Harris’s novel of the same name, the film, directed by Edward Berger (fresh off his Oscar success with All Quiet on the Western Front), is a meticulous exploration of power and belief. With a stellar cast including Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow, and Isabella Rossellini, Conclave is not just a film—it’s an experience that pulls you into the labyrinthine corridors of the Vatican and the human soul.

At its core, Conclave is a mystery—not just about who will be the next Pope, but about the very nature of faith itself. The film opens with the cardinals gathering in the Sistine Chapel, their crimson robes a stark contrast to the solemnity of their task. As they retreat into isolation, the politics of the outside world seep in, and the line between divine will and human ambition begins to blur. The cardinals, though united in their faith, are fragmented in their visions for the Church. Nationalities, ideologies, and personal ambitions clash, revealing a Church that is far from the monolithic institution it appears to be.

Ralph Fiennes delivers a powerhouse performance as Cardinal Lomeli, the protagonist tasked with overseeing the conclave. His character is a man of deep faith, yet one who is increasingly burdened by doubt. The film’s narrative is tightly woven around Lomeli’s journey, as he navigates the treacherous waters of Vatican politics while grappling with his own moral compass. The camera lingers on Fiennes’s face, capturing every flicker of emotion—his quiet resolve, his growing unease, and his moments of profound introspection. In one particularly striking scene, Lomeli stands on a balcony overlooking the cardinals below, their whispered conversations forming a cacophony of intrigue. The camera, positioned behind him, invites us to share his perspective—a lone figure amidst a sea of red, questioning the unity of the Church he serves.

What sets Conclave apart is its ability to immerse the viewer in the minutiae of its world. The film is a masterclass in atmosphere, with every detail meticulously crafted to enhance the sense of claustrophobia and tension. The sound design is particularly noteworthy—the rustle of paper, the clink of a glass, the faint echo of footsteps in an empty corridor—all serve to draw us deeper into the story. The absence of a traditional score in key moments amplifies the weight of silence, making the occasional swell of music all the more impactful.

The film’s visual language is equally compelling. The Vatican’s grandeur is juxtaposed with the intimate, almost suffocating closeness of the conclave. Long, winding corridors symbolize the labyrinth of faith and doubt that Lomeli must navigate. Doors, both open and closed, become powerful metaphors for the secrets and truths that lie just out of reach. In one pivotal scene, Lomeli confronts Cardinal Tremblay (John Lithgow), seeking answers to a growing conspiracy. The dialogue is tense, but it’s the visual composition—Lomeli framed by an open door, with another closed door in the background—that speaks volumes. What lies beyond those doors? What truths remain hidden? The film invites us to ponder these questions, much like its protagonist.

Conclave is not just a film about the election of a Pope; it’s a meditation on the nature of faith itself. As one character poignantly remarks, “Faith is alive because it walks with doubt.” This idea permeates every frame of the film, challenging both its characters and its audience to confront the mysteries that define their beliefs. The cardinals, though bound by their shared faith, are deeply human—flawed, conflicted, and driven by their own desires. The film doesn’t shy away from these contradictions, instead embracing them as essential to its exploration of faith and power.

The supporting cast shines in their roles, each adding layers of complexity to the narrative. Stanley Tucci’s Cardinal Bellini is a voice of reason and pragmatism, while Isabella Rossellini’s Cardinal Ledesma brings a quiet intensity to the proceedings. John Lithgow’s Cardinal Tremblay is a standout, his character embodying the tension between tradition and reform. The interactions between these characters are charged with subtext, their words often carrying double meanings that reflect the film’s broader themes.

As the conclave progresses, the film’s pacing mirrors the growing tension within the Vatican. The initial slow burn gives way to a crescendo of revelations, each more shocking than the last. Yet, even as the plot hurtles toward its conclusion, the film never loses sight of its central question: What does it mean to have faith in a world filled with uncertainty?

The final act of Conclave is both satisfying and thought-provoking. Without giving too much away, the film’s ending is a testament to its commitment to ambiguity. It refuses to provide easy answers, instead leaving us with more questions than we started with. This, perhaps, is the film’s greatest strength—it respects the intelligence of its audience, trusting us to grapple with the complexities it presents.

In the end, Conclave is more than just a film; it’s a profound exploration of faith, power, and the human condition. It’s a reminder that the greatest mysteries are not those that can be solved, but those that compel us to keep searching. As the credits roll, we are left with a sense of awe—not just at the film’s craftsmanship, but at the enduring power of the questions it raises. In a world where certainty is elusive, Conclave stands as a testament to the beauty of doubt and the eternal quest for meaning.