Conclave: It Ain’t Just a Bunch of Gossiping Cardinals
Review
Let’s get one thing straight: Conclave is not your average religious drama. There’s no choir swelling to the heavens, no miracles performed in the rain, and no sappy reaffirmations of faith. Instead, what Edward Berger gives us is a taut, moody meditation on power, legacy, and what happens when you realize the institution you’ve devoted your life to might have oversold that whole “direct line” to God bit.
The story kicks off with the Pope’s death, sending the College of Cardinals into lockdown at the Vatican to elect his successor. It’s a process steeped in tradition, secrecy, and more than a little backroom politicking. Our eyes into this sanctimonious circus belong to Cardinal Lomeli (Ralph Fiennes), a man who looks like he hasn’t slept—or believed in anything but duty—for about a decade. What follows is less “God’s plan” and more House of Cards meets Spotlight, minus the outright cynicism. Mostly.
First, the obvious: Conclave is a visual feast. The Vatican—at least Berger’s version of it—is an absolute knockout. Stéphane Fontaine’s cinematography and Suzie Davies’s production design make sure every frame looks like it could double as an Architectural Digest spread. The towering ceilings, the flickering candlelight, the miles of crimson robes swishing down echoing halls—it’s practically begging for an “aesthetic” hashtag. And it works. The architecture isn’t just pretty wallpaper; it’s an active player in the drama, looming over the characters like the weight of 2,000 years of tradition whispering, “Don’t screw this up.”
Ralph Fiennes, of course, doesn’t screw anything up. As Lomeli, he’s a masterclass in subtlety—every grimace, every hollow stare, every whispered word feels like it’s carrying the burden of a lifetime of compromises. Lomeli is the ultimate company man, but Fiennes lets you see the cracks forming in real-time. It’s the kind of performance that creeps up on you, and by the time the credits roll, you’re not sure whether to admire him, pity him, or take him out for a stiff drink.
But this isn’t just a movie about men in robes shuffling through corridors. Berger uses Conclave to poke at bigger questions, like the patriarchy. And no, it doesn’t scream about it with a megaphone, but the subtext is there, and it’s sharp. In a room full of men deciding the future of one of the most powerful institutions on Earth, the absence of women is deafening. It’s not just a boys’ club—it’s the ultimate boys’ club, and Berger isn’t afraid to let that imbalance linger uncomfortably in the background. The result? A subtle but pointed conversation about who holds the power, why, and what it says about the structures we’ve built around belief.
That said, Conclave isn’t perfect. The pacing can feel a little too reverent at times—more incense swinging, less intrigue unraveling. And while the script manages to weave in some genuinely gripping moments, it occasionally bogs itself down in exposition. Do we really need a full explainer on the finer points of papal voting rituals? Maybe not. But hey, at least you’ll leave the theater armed with some Vatican trivia to dazzle your friends.
Where the film truly excels is in its texture—its ability to make the spiritual feel tactile. Berger has a way of grounding even the loftiest ideas in physical detail: the scrape of chairs on marble floors, the flicker of a flame, the weight of silence as the cardinals cast their ballots. These moments give Conclave its pulse, balancing its heady themes with a sensory richness that keeps you locked in.
Ultimately, Conclave is a film about faith—not the easy kind, but the kind that makes you question whether the system you’ve devoted your life to deserves it. With Ralph Fiennes delivering a career-best performance and a visual style that could make a heathen believe in the divine, Berger has crafted something that’s both cerebral and cinematic. Sure, it’s a little slow in places, but when the architecture and production design are this gorgeous, who cares? If nothing else, it’s proof that the Vatican makes one hell of a set piece.
