The Conclave is a story about popes and power, timed to vote in America

Close elections. An opportunity for an old person to occupy a position of great power. Factional struggle and ideological split. The description fits the inevitable vote in America, as well as the plot of “Conclave”. Edward Berger’s new film, based on Robert Harris’ novel The Conclave, focuses on the election pontifex maximus – the pope – the college of cardinals. Strike a battle in the Sistine Chapel.

The selection of a new Pope begins as soon as the old one dies — or, as happened with Pope Benedict XVI, resigns. The conclave begins on the deathbed of an old pope, and the fictional dean of the College of Cardinals, Thomas Lawrence (Raife Fiennes), is tasked with overseeing the selection of a successor. Cardinal Bellini (Stanley Tucci) supports the liberal wing of the curia, with whom Lawrence sympathizes.

Another contender is Cardinal Tedesco (Sergio Castellitto), a reactionary with a voracious appetite who grabs his vape with the gusto a prince of the Church should reserve for his rosaries. Cardinal Trumble (John Lithgow) is everything to all prelates, but scandal hovers behind the scenes until he takes center stage. An African candidate, Cardinal Adeyemi (Lucian Msamati), gains momentum only for youthful recklessness to surface at the worst possible time.

A mysterious figure from, of all places, Kabul, Cardinal Benitez (Carlos Dietz) — a sort of Chekhovian pistol in red — is present at the beginning of the film, becoming increasingly important by the end. Isabella Rossini, severe in appearance and vivacious competence, is Agnes’s wonderful sister. One wishes, somewhat sacrilegiously, that she would speak more. “Conclave” has an eye for detail worthy of the artists who made the halls in which the Church conducts its activities beautiful.

Cardinals are sequestered during conclave and released only after a candidate has obtained the necessary supermajority. Then white smoke billows over St. Peter’s Square, and the declaration habemus papam roars Much of the fun of The Conclave comes from the fact that it tells sacred information behind the scenes. Men whisper in corners and form alliances over a cigarette. Dreams that have been nurtured for decades crumble from one vote to the next.

“Conclave” touches, albeit cautiously, on the sins of the Church – sexual scandals, financial crimes, venal corruption and excessive pride. His intelligence is most evident when he straddles the blurred line between piety and politics. We are told that every cardinal wants to be Pope, especially those who deny that they covet the throne. One cardinal muses: “No sane person would want the papacy.” He is devastated when he is denied the bishopric of Rome.

Hanging over the Conclave is not only America’s vote, but also an aging Pope Francis. The film alludes to the divisions between liberals and conservatives in his congregation over issues such as the role of women, homosexuality and even the restoration of the Trent Mass. Vatican watchers report that dissent is rife within the Curia, and Francis’s failing health means that the throne of St. Peter could soon be vacant again. The Church is used to crises.

“Conclave” is fast-paced, and its characters are attractive. What he sacrifices in awe and depth, he makes up for in human touch. Shifting between Latin, Italian, English and Spanish, she portrays the College of Cardinals as something between a fraternity, a model United Nations, and a men’s club in a synagogue. Mr. Fiennes, the film’s glory, is a manager who has been changed by the process he’s been tasked with overseeing. I could Fisherman’s ring does his finger fit?

The film’s ideological sympathies are liberal, but Tedesco is the most striking character. He declares that the rejection of the Latin language impoverished the liturgy and divided the Church, and his memories of the clash of civilizations between Rome and its enemies shook the theater. Tedesco’s uneasy vitality is a reminder that sometimes sober reforms may not be the tonic for what ails faith in a secular age.

If the film is constructed with the kind of care Michelangelo lavished on The Last Judgment, the final half hour feels like throwing, say, orange painton canvas The terrorist attack and the final reveal throw The Conclave into a bit of disarray. However, it would be great to have more films like this, intellectual but enjoyable, respectful of the audience’s faith and time — giving Hollywood only what is Hollywood.