Conclave (2024): A Tense Thriller of Power, Faith, and Vatican Intrigue
Edward Berger’s Conclave (2024), adapted from Robert Harris’s bestselling novel, is a masterclass in claustrophobic political drama set against the sacred yet treacherous backdrop of the Catholic Church. Starring Ralph Fiennes in a career-defining role, the film plunges viewers into the arcane rituals of papal succession, where faith collides with ambition, and secrecy masks existential threats to the Church’s moral authority. With its taut screenplay, meticulous direction, and layered performances, Conclave transcends its ecclesiastical setting to deliver a universal commentary on power, corruption, and the fragility of institutional trust.
The Plot: A Web of Secrets in the Heart of the Vatican
When the Pope dies suddenly, Cardinal Thomas Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), the Dean of the College of Cardinals, is tasked with overseeing the election of a new pontiff. The process—a centuries-old ritual conducted in the locked Sistine Chapel—quickly unravels into a labyrinth of suspicion. Four frontrunners emerge: a reformist American cardinal (John Lithgow), a traditionalist Italian (Stanley Tucci), a Nigerian candidate advocating for African representation, and a Canadian shrouded in scandal. As factions form and alliances fracture, Lawrence discovers that the late Pope had secretly pressured the Canadian cardinal to resign, a revelation that hints at a deeper conspiracy. Meanwhile, a mysterious nun’s late-night visit to the Nigerian cardinal’s quarters and a terrorist bombing outside the Vatican walls escalate tensions, forcing Lawrence to confront his own moral compass.
The film’s climax hinges on a shocking twist: the election of an Afghan cardinal, a transgender woman who had concealed her identity to serve the Church. Her ascent—a radical act of inclusivity—challenges centuries of dogma and redefines the papacy as a symbol of reconciliation rather than rigidity. Berger frames this revelation not as a mere political statement but as a theological reckoning, asking whether the Church can evolve without sacrificing its soul.
Direction and Adaptation: Claustrophobia as a Narrative Device
Berger, fresh off his Oscar-winning All Quiet on the Western Front (2022), transforms Harris’s intricate novel into a visually arresting thriller. The Vatican’s opulent halls and the Sistine Chapel’s frescoed ceilings are rendered in stark contrasts of red and white, symbolizing the blood of martyrs and the purity of faith—or the illusion of it. Berger’s use of tight close-ups and shadow-drenched corridors amplifies the suffocating pressure of the conclave, where every whispered conversation could alter history.
Screenwriter Peter Straughan (Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy) retains the novel’s geopolitical nuances while streamlining its subplots. The terrorist attack, absent from the book, serves as a modern-day metaphor for external threats to institutional stability, mirroring real-world crises of faith in organized religion. The script also sharpens the ethical dilemmas faced by Lawrence, whose stoic demeanor masks a crisis of conscience. As he navigates blackmail, sabotage, and theological debates, the film asks: Can one uphold tradition while embracing progress?
Performances: Fiennes and a Stellar Ensemble
Ralph Fiennes delivers a quietly devastating performance as Cardinal Lawrence, balancing bureaucratic pragmatism with understated vulnerability. His Lawrence is a man haunted by duty, his weary eyes reflecting the weight of centuries-old rituals. Stanley Tucci shines as Cardinal Bellini, a Machiavellian traditionalist whose charm masks a ruthless agenda, while Isabella Rossellini brings gravitas to Sister Agnes, a nun whose quiet defiance underscores the Church’s gender inequities.
The film’s boldest casting choice lies in its Afghan cardinal, portrayed with haunting restraint by Merab Ninidze. Her final monologue—a plea for compassion over dogma—resonates as both a personal confession and a manifesto for institutional reform.
Themes: Faith vs. Power, Certainty vs. Doubt
Conclave is less about religion than the machinery of power. The conclave’s voting rituals—burning ballots, counting beads—are depicted with procedural precision, echoing the sterile mechanics of modern elections. Yet beneath this order lies chaos: backroom deals, smear campaigns, and the manipulation of divine rhetoric for earthly gain. The film’s most provocative line—“Certainty is the enemy, for where there is certainty, mystery dies, and faith becomes obsolete”—critiques absolutism in all forms, from religious fundamentalism to political populism.
The Afghan cardinal’s election subverts expectations, challenging the Church—and the audience—to embrace ambiguity. Her identity as a transgender woman, revealed post-election, forces a confrontation with hypocrisy: Can an institution that preaches “love thy neighbor” exclude those who defy its norms? The answer, the film suggests, lies not in dogma but in humility—a theme underscored by Lawrence’s final act of opening the Vatican’s sealed windows, literally and metaphorically inviting light into the shadows.
Reception and Legacy
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Conclave has sparked polarized debates. Critics praise its ambition, with The Guardian calling it “a gripping parable for our age of institutional decay”, while traditionalist viewers condemn its “blasphemous” climax. Nonetheless, the film has garnered accolades, including Oscar nominations for Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Actor (Fiennes), and a Golden Globe win for Best Screenplay.
For audiences, Conclave lingers as a meditation on moral courage. Its closing image—the newly elected Pope walking through rain-soaked crowds, her white cassock a blank canvas for hope—reminds us that institutions, like individuals, must evolve or perish. In an era of crumbling trust in hierarchies, Conclave dares to imagine a future where faith is not a weapon but a bridge, and where the greatest secrets are those we must learn to share.