Conclave: A cinematic meditation on power, the church, and change

The Pope is dead.

So begins “Conclave,” a cinematographically stunning film premised on the process of selecting a new pope. It follows the dean of the conclave, Archbishop Lawrence, as he presides over the voting process while investigating the secrets and navigating the politicking of the archbishops. “Conclave” makes art of political intrigue with reflection on humans’ greed for power, contains a critique of the Catholic Church, and, ultimately, protrays the hope for redemption.

This film should be watched on artistic merit alone. The unique ultra-wide aspect ratio of the screen allows for both extreme close-up shots — items, hands, and faces give a tension to otherwise static shots — and gorgeous wide shots of crowds in tessellated patterns. In one scene, dozens of figures carrying white umbrellas fill the screen as the day of the final vote dawns.

The film builds surprising suspense from static scenes and slow movements. Part of this has to do with the sound design. A haunting strings theme, for instance, plays as Archbishop Lawrence untangles the web of secrets. The effect is furthered by the masterful crafting of every shot. Life in the Vatican is captured through a number of still shots: archbishops smoking cigarettes against a wall, a nun listening to the door, characters framed against the stunning architecture and history of this palace. The audience laughed at a shot of an archbishop texting on a phone, an infrequent reminder that the film takes place in modern time. Such juxtaposition creates a sense of otherworldliness, where time ceases to exist altogether.

Despite taking place almost entirely within the walls of the Vatican, the film plays with the idea of confinement without ever feeling restricted. Even the color palette, comprising five colors — black, white, blue, with accents of red and yellow — that paint nearly the entire film, only highlights a sense of the dramatic.

The turning point of the movie comes precisely when this confinement is broken, in a theatrical scene that resembles a divine intervention. Suddenly, there is birdsong and natural light; although still in the conclave, there is a physical and psychological opening.

“Conclave” is ambitious, to say the least, as it looks into one of the oldest and most powerful institutions in the world, the Catholic Church. The film critiques the Church by revealing the disheartening humanness of the people who make up even the most holy of institutions. God is strikingly absent for a film about the Church. Instead, there are allegorical figures: the late pope as an omniscient, guiding, God-like figure, the newcomer archbishop as a disruptive Jesus character, and dramatic scenes harking back to apostolic interventions.

Tensions simmer under a veneer of civility. There are factions as the “liberals” pit themselves against “traditionalists” who aim to take the Church back to its Latin-dominant, Rome-focused days. As one archbishop states, “This is war.” Systemic inequalities that exist in the Church are also hinted at, but less focused upon. Racial divides are highlighted through comments made by archbishops and the domination of male power is conveyed through paralleling shots of the archbishops with the largely invisible sisters who prepare the meals. The film attributes the fallibility of institutions — holy or otherwise — to the fact that they’re upheld by humans. The main character, Archbishop Lawrence, struggles with his faith and says the greatest sin is certainty: “We’re mortal men. We serve an ideal. We cannot be an ideal.”

It’s also a fitting piece for a time like today. In the aftermath of the US elections, the meditation on power brings us into the seat of decision-making in the upper echelons. In one scene, two archbishops stand in the shadows of a stairwell, discussing how to defeat “the other side” by pooling their support behind a particular candidate, and commenting on how this exchange feels like an American political convention.

The film can be criticized as overly dramatic and unrealistic — particularly with its many plot twists. However, that’s what leaves the strongest impression. Cinematography stuns in every moment, but the radicality of its proposal for change stays beyond the film’s end. While the film criticizes the human fallibility of the Church, it also offers the care for humans as a source of redemption and change.

Yet this also harkens back to the historic beginnings of the Church and the radical figure of Jesus Christ, who overturns the tables in the temple and critiques the spiritual leaders, the Pharisees. The power of tradition in the Church is eschewed for a nod towards the need for reform. Provocatively, the film suggests that institutions are not what they are built upon, but what they become: “The Church is not tradition. The Church is not the past. The Church is what we do next.”

Faith Ho is a member of the Class of 2027 and a contributing writer for The Prospect and Features at the ‘Prince.’ She can be reached at faithho@princeton.edu.