A pope dies. One hundred and eighteen cardinals gather in Vatican City to elect his successor. What should be a solemn spiritual process becomes a pressure cooker of ambition, blackmail, and buried secrets. Edward Berger’s Conclave, adapted from Robert Harris’s 2016 novel, takes this premise and spins it into one of the tightest thrillers in recent memory, proving that you don’t need car chases or explosions to generate suspense. All you need is a group of powerful men in a locked room, each convinced that God wants them to win.
The film follows Cardinal Thomas Lawrence, the Dean of the College of Cardinals, who oversees the election while battling his own crisis of faith. Lawrence doesn’t want the job of pope and isn’t sure he even believes in the institution anymore. But as he uncovers scandal after scandal among the leading candidates, he’s forced to decide whether exposing the truth serves God or just his own disillusionment. It’s a question the film handles with more intelligence and nuance than most political thrillers manage.
Ralph Fiennes and the Architecture of Doubt
Ralph Fiennes delivers one of his finest performances as Cardinal Lawrence, a man whose authority comes from his evident decency rather than his ambition. Fiennes plays Lawrence as someone who is tired, morally precise, and increasingly horrified by what he discovers about his colleagues. The performance is built on restraint. Fiennes communicates volumes through stillness, a slight tightening of the jaw, a measured pause before responding to a provocation, a flicker of something behind the eyes when faith and reality collide. In a lesser actor’s hands, Lawrence could feel passive. Fiennes makes his restraint feel like the hardest kind of strength.
Stanley Tucci is excellent as Cardinal Bellini, the progressive favorite who may be too principled for the office he’s seeking. Tucci brings warmth and intelligence to a character who could have been a simple liberal archetype, finding the vanity beneath the idealism and the genuine decency beneath the vanity. His scenes with Fiennes crackle with the energy of two men who respect each other but can’t quite agree on what the Church needs.
John Lithgow provides sly menace as Cardinal Tremblay, a moderate whose polished surface conceals deeper calculations. Sergio Castellitto is magnetic as Cardinal Tedesco, the conservative firebrand who wants to drag the Church backward and doesn’t care who he offends in the process. Castellitto plays Tedesco with a theatrical bombast that contrasts perfectly with Fiennes’s quietness, and their confrontations are among the film’s most compelling scenes.
The production design is stunning. Berger and his team recreate Vatican interiors with a grandeur that serves the story rather than overwhelming it. The Sistine Chapel, the cardinals’ dormitory, the smoke rising from the chimney, every visual element reinforces the weight of what’s happening. Stephane Fontaine’s cinematography uses the architectural beauty of these spaces to create a sense of enclosure and surveillance, as though the walls themselves are watching. The result is a film that feels claustrophobic despite being set in some of the most beautiful rooms on earth.
Volker Bertelmann’s score is restrained and effective, building tension through repetition and silence rather than bombast. The sound design deserves equal credit. The echo of footsteps in stone corridors, the rustle of vestments, the distant chanting of prayers, all contribute to an atmosphere that is both sacred and deeply unsettling.
The Final Ballot’s Credibility Gap
The film’s twist ending has been its most debated element since release. Without revealing specifics, the final revelation introduces a dimension that many viewers found thematically bold and emotionally satisfying while others considered it a narrative cheat that undermines the grounded political thriller the film had been building for two hours. The twist is faithful to the novel, but translating it to screen makes it feel more sudden and less earned than it might on the page, where Harris had more room to prepare the reader.
The film’s treatment of the Catholic Church is respectful enough to avoid outrage but critical enough to raise questions about whether it pulls its punches. The scandals that emerge during the conclave are serious but not devastating, touching on corruption and hypocrisy without ever truly threatening the institution. Viewers hoping for a sharper critique of ecclesiastical power may find the film too willing to locate goodness in a system it’s simultaneously exposing as flawed.
Pacing in the middle section occasionally flags. The film repeats a pattern of revelation, reaction, and recalibration across multiple voting rounds, and by the third or fourth cycle, the structure starts to feel mechanical. Each new scandal is dramatic in isolation, but the accumulation can feel like a series of plot devices rather than a building narrative. Berger handles the individual scenes beautifully, but the overall architecture of escalating revelations becomes somewhat predictable.
Isabella Rossellini appears as Sister Agnes, the nun who runs the dormitory and holds information critical to the election. Her screen time is limited, and while Rossellini makes every moment count, the film could have given her more to do. In a story about the institutional power of men, the women who keep the institution running remain largely at the periphery, which feels like a missed opportunity even if it reflects the reality of Vatican power structures.
Doubt as the Highest Form of Faith
The film’s most provocative idea is that doubt, rather than certainty, might be the qualification that matters most in a spiritual leader. Cardinal Lawrence’s crisis of faith, which would disqualify him in the eyes of the institution, is precisely what makes him the most trustworthy person in the room. He’s the only one not angling for power, the only one willing to ask uncomfortable questions, the only one whose moral compass isn’t bent by personal ambition.
This inversion, that the best pope might be the one who isn’t sure God exists, gives the film an intellectual dimension that lifts it above standard thriller mechanics. It’s a film about institutions and how they corrupt even well-intentioned people, but it’s also about whether institutions can be redeemed by individuals who refuse to play by their rules.
Should You Watch Conclave?
If you enjoy smart, dialogue-driven thrillers, this is one of the best in recent years. Ralph Fiennes is magnificent, the supporting cast is uniformly excellent, and Berger proves that his Oscar-winning work on All Quiet on the Western Front was no fluke. Fans of political dramas, institutional mysteries, and films that trust their audience to follow complex interpersonal dynamics will find this deeply satisfying.
Skip it if you need action to stay engaged, or if the idea of watching elderly men argue about theology for two hours sounds unbearable. The ending will also be a dealbreaker for some viewers. If you prefer your thrillers to resolve in ways that feel completely airtight, the final revelation may frustrate you.
The Verdict on Conclave
Conclave is a masterfully crafted thriller that proves the papal election is as dramatic as any political campaign and considerably more photogenic. Ralph Fiennes anchors the film with quiet authority, the ensemble is stellar across the board, and Edward Berger’s direction wrings tension from whispered conversations and meaningful glances. The ending will divide audiences, and the film’s middle section occasionally repeats itself, but these are minor flaws in a work of considerable intelligence and craft. In a landscape of superhero spectacles and franchise sequels, Conclave is a welcome reminder that a locked room, strong actors, and a clever script can still generate more suspense than any amount of CGI.