The intersection of religion and politics has always fascinated Hollywood filmmakers, from Becket and A Man for All Seasons to The West Wing. And no wonder. Both religion and politics are two of the biggest commanders of loyalty in their followers, and therefore they wield an enormous amount of power. And where power exists, conflict exists. And great stories rest on conflict.
That’s what attracted Edward Berger (director of the 2022 Oscar-winning film All’s Quiet on the Western Front) to make Conclave, a thriller set at a conclave to select a new pope. (A name technically for any private meeting, but traditionally associated with the process of voting for the next pope by secluding the cardinals until he is chosen.) Because of the church’s influence, the cardinals and pope wield great power, and that means the politics of the church can quickly become a game of jockeying for authority—for yourself or someone else you think worthy. As Berger told Deadline:
It is a universal story. It could be a boardroom or it could be politics or it could be how to get on the field in the football team, and fight for that position in the squad. It could be the same story. And that’s why I think in the end it’s a universal power struggle story. That’s what drew me to it. Along with Ralph’s interior journey of doubt, which I really liked.
It goes without saying that such themes feel very relevant today in America. It’s no secret we have a deeply divisive election in which people’s religious identity and beliefs play a central role. Most of us know faithful believers on both sides of the political divide and have watched them condemn each other for not siding with them. Mixing faith with the messy world of politics is always hard. It’s easy to feel holy when you keep your faith abstract. But politics has a way of making things feel dirtier and more complicated. When should you stand for your principles if the price is losing? When is compromise good? A movie like Conclave could have been deeply helpful if it had offered insights into how to navigate faith in the grit and grime of life.
Unfortunately, while the movie is skillfully made, its political narrow-mindedness undermines the very themes of doubt and humility it wants to elevate.
Conclave follows Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), tasked to lead the conclave for the new pope after the last one dies suddenly. Lawrence struggles to do his job in the midst of his own doubts about his faith and the ideological extremists who hope to secure power. But on the first day of the conclave, he begins to unravel a series of scandals and conspiracies that threaten to undermine the church from within.
The film is visually mesmerizing and the acting is superb. Berger and his director of photography, Stéphane Fontaine, use the beautiful Catholic architecture and dress to gorgeous effect, framing them with their striking colors and shapes in shots that often look like paintings, or—when the cast is in motion as they perform their rituals—a solemn ballet.
The amazing ensemble cast has effortless gravitas and believability, whether they are keeping their true thoughts stoically hidden or revealing their complex inner lives. Raph Fiennes, John Lithgow, and Stanley Tucci give the layered brilliance we expect of them. But Isabella Rossellini (as Sister Agnes) and Sergio Castellitto (as Cardinal Tedesco) are also standouts for the humanity and magnetism they bring to their roles. She as an outwardly submissive nun masking a deep heroism, and he as the charismatic but dangerous conservative cardinal.
The film successfully navigates the sacred and the profane that always exists in a life dedicated to the church. Speaking as a preacher’s kid who grew up in church, one of the most difficult things to capture about this experience is the tension between a holy and ordinary life. The cross that you see in the church feels ordinary because you see it every day, yet every Sunday you engage in rituals that remind you of the meaningfulness of it.
Conclave nails that balance. Every liturgical and ritual observance is infused with weight and drama, from the prayers to the manner in which ballots for the new pope are submitted. Each ancient practice is emphasized with weighty sound effects, slowness, and beautiful framing to highlight their solemn importance. And yet, there is a grounded casualness to it as well. These cardinals are ordinary people living ordinary lives. They hang out and smoke together. They talk trash about their coworkers. They crack jokes. (“I’d say this is a pretty fair vision of Hell” “Now don’t be blasphemous, Ray. Hell arrives tomorrow when we bring in the cardinals.”) Very few films—whether made by Hollywood or the faith-based film industry—have nailed that tension so well.
The movie’s ability to walk the tightrope between routine and thrilling is impressive, too. Often thrillers will keep placing their characters in greater and greater outlandish situations to keep ratcheting up the tension. But Conclave never strays too far into the implausible. The scandals and infighting that Lawrence uncovers in his investigations, from financial corruption to sexual sins, are all imminently believable, and the actions he takes to stop them rarely fail to be credible. (In one case, however, he flagrantly breaks the rules and indulges in a rather melodramatic exposé of one of the cardinals that rides the line a bit. )
Cardinal Lawrence could be seen as a hero (at least on the surface) for those who wish to stand up for what’s right in a politically fraught time. He’s a man committed to applying his faith to his work—even though he’s not always clear what that is. Meanwhile, he’s surrounded by men who are certain that they’re the church’s salvation and so feel justified in doing whatever it takes to seize power. At its best, the film shows how hard it is to stand up for what’s right without being co-opted or steamrolled by those with more confidence but fewer principles.
But what undermines the drama and message of Conclave is its shallowness and sometimes comical hypocrisy when it comes to the subject of religious doubt. Doubt plays a big role in the film and was something deeply important to the director.
I love the doubt theme. It resonates with a lot of people because we all have it. We all have our own journey and this one melds both my faith and my faith in movies as a changing, inspiring force. Doubt creeps in all the time. Except for the Italian Cardinal Tedesco. The idea is that nobody knows what the right thing is, you’re going to have to go with your gut. It’s no different when you make a movie and you’ve got to choose what’s going to happen. That’s your job. And you don’t know if you’re right.
Lawrence is a man defined by his doubts. We are told he struggles deeply with his faith. It’s also suggested that is what makes him the right man for the job to lead the conclave—since he won’t fall into extremism. He gives an impassioned speech at the opening of the conclave encouraging doubt in its members, even asserting that Christ himself experienced doubt on the cross.
And yet the treatment of doubt never digs beneath the surface, a mere rhetorical questioning, nor is it treated consistently. We never delve much into the nature of Lawrence’s doubts beyond passing remarks. What doubts does he have about God? Why? His doubts never become a means to explore more deeply his character or the issues that drive doubt. Doubt is simply a fact for him and about him—and, apparently, a necessary virtue avoid “extremism. ”
Further, while the film affirms the value of doubt when it comes to faith, it rejects all doubt about politics. The film never has a moment’s doubt that the “liberal” Catholics who want to loosen rules around women’s roles and homosexuality are the good guys and that the conservative Catholics if given the chance would hurl the church back to “the stone age.” When Cardinal Tedesco advocates for a return to a more traditional Catholic mass—so they can be united rather than divided by language—the film treats it like a villain speech. When Tedesco warns about the problems of unchecked Muslim immigration (after a terrorist attack), he is swiftly put in his place. When Cardinal Adeyemi is considered for the papacy, he is swiftly dismissed by the heroes for his conservative views on homosexuality. All mentions of the male-exclusive nature of the priesthood are treated with snark or disdain. The film portrays liberal Catholics as bad only when they violate their standards (such as engaging in bribery), yet conservative Catholics are consistently portrayed as bad when they stand up for theirs.
This lets the air out of much of the story’s drama. Because the film never shows the “conservative” side, those struggling to retain the old ways, as being sympathetic in any way, we never get to see Lawrence struggle with the rightness of his own position. Ironically, he never doubts himself. Likewise, Lawrence is supposed to be at a disadvantage because he isn’t ideologically pure enough to be willing to break the rules so his “side” can win. And yet, because the filmmakers refuse to give legitimacy to other viewpoints, he pretty quickly breaks all sorts of rules to stop the “bad guys”—which means the “rules” lose their ability to hold us in suspense.
It’s sad because the director, Berger, is not a believer himself. (He says he wants to pass Catholicism down to his kids, but only to preserve the cultural heritage.) But he is a committed liberal. This means that his message about the value of doubt is not one he applies to himself, only to his enemies. “Doubt for thee, but not for me.” Doubt is not a sincere value but a weapon to be wielded against his opponents to weaken them.
While it’s sad, it’s not surprising. While theologically liberal churches present themselves as open-minded and ecumenical, they’re really just as culturally supremacist and totalitarian as the worst of the religious right. Pastor John Tyson told a story about watching a debate between Western and African bishops in the United Methodist Church over LGBTQ issues.
I remember hearing a huge debate in the United Methodist church when there was a debate about LGBTQ issues and you basically had white liberal Westerners vs a bunch of African bishops. And the white liberals Westerners were saying “You backwood bishops, if you just thought like us, and you understood like us, the world would be a better place.” And I’ll never forget one of the African Bishops saying: “First you came and colonized our nation. Now you want to come and colonize our theology.”
You can see this sneaky cultural supremacy play out in the film. When Lawrence stops speaking Latin to speak “from the heart,” he does so in English, something he can do before an international audience of prelates and expect to be understood because of the West’s cultural dominance. Underlying his faux humility is a kind of entitlement.
Dr. George Yancey noted in his book One Faith No More (summarized in this Gospel Coalition article also by him) that theologically liberal churches are more committed to their politics than to their faith—and certainly more so than their conservative counterparts. As Yancey notes, they’re more likely to pick their friends based on shared politics rather than shared faith than are evangelicals. And they’re more likely to determine their faith based on their politics than their politics based on their faith. (Yancey linked to a progressive Christian cartoon that said, “The difference between me and you is you use Scripture to determine what love means and I use love to determine what Scripture means.”) Sociologist Ryan Burge has also noted that the most political religious denominations were the theologically liberal ones.
Again, this is not to pick on the theological liberals. I wrote recently about how the God’s Not Dead franchise has the same arrogant attitude about their religious-right political views, and how elements of Megan Basham’s new book Shepherds for Sale encourages an attitude that anyone who disagrees with the religious right must be a “dupe” or a “deceiver.” But what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. The religious right didn’t make Conclave. If progressives are going to build a myth that they are the tolerant expression of the faith, they need to be OK with that myth being busted.
It’s good to affirm the value of doubt for increasing our humility. No one has perfect knowledge. It’s good to tell stories that show us how to both embrace doubt and stand for our convictions. But to embrace doubt we have to embrace it for our beliefs, not just the beliefs of others. If we don’t, we don’t believe in doubt at all. And the extremist we fear is us.
