I do not give a shit about the Pope or how they choose a new Pope, but that did not stop me from finding Conclave a riveting, thoughtful political thriller that had me exclaiming, "OH SHIT!" and "OH FUCK!" and "OH SNAP!" continually over two hours of juicier and juicier drama. This movie has the veneer of boring Oscar bait but the meat of pulpy airport thriller, elevated trash of the highest order. THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS. I don't know if Robert Harris's novel was popular in airport bookstores, but screenwriter Peter Straughan—who also helped adapt Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, so he knows how to craft an intriguing tale—faithfully translates the events of the book into crowd-pleasing entertainment. Oscar-winning director Edward Berger treats the material with the utmost seriousness but a hint of cheekiness slips out every now and then simply in the inherent ridiculousness of this excessive adherence to protocol. This really is a movie about over a hundred cardinals sequestering themselves from the outside world to repeatedly write down on a piece of paper who amongst their ranks should become head of the most powerful religious institution in the world and until one person gets two-thirds of the vote they just keep fucking doing it over and over.

So the Pope dies, and Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes) organizes the titular conclave to choose the new Pope. There are only a handful of viable candidates, but initially it appears to be a clear race between the liberal Bellini (Stanley Tucci) and the traditionalist Tedesco (Sergio Castellito)...so to say this film plays extremely well in election season is putting it mildly. Other candidates emerge as well, like the conservative Tremblay (John Lithgow) and Adeyemi (Lucian Msamati), who is economically progressive—I am getting this from Wikipedia, I don't know how I was supposed to get that from the movie—but socially conservative and thus can appeal to both sides. A newcomer, Benitez (Carlos Diehz), could be a dark horse. And then there's also Lawrence himself, though he even more strongly opposes his own appointment than Bellini does. But they really, really do not want Tedesco to win.

What I found fascinating was that there are no, like, public debates or anything. As the movie presents it, everything about this process occurs behind closed doors, so we don't explicitly get a reason for why the voting numbers change with each vote. And yet they do, and it's dramatic every time. Who has so-and-so been talking to!? What did they say? Our main window into why the votes change is Lawrence's constant investigations into everyone to determine whether they may actually not be viable candidates after all, something he repeatedly and explicitly says he should not be doing because HE IS ALSO ELIGIBLE TO BE POPE AND THIS IS IN HIS OWN SELF-INTEREST, but Ralph Fiennes pulls off that tricky balancing act of selling a lack of ambition while concealing his own ambition, which he may not even want to it to himself that he has. As a couple characters point out, it's the person who does not actually want to lead who makes the best leader because a person who actively seeks power is dangerous. And it's the exploration of that dynamic in this specific circle that makes the film so delicious in a universal context because all the bullshit that happens here happens in any type of institution. People talk. People scheme. People conspire. And people...settle. People compromise. People deal. I do enjoy microcosmic movies.

There's quite a bit of meat here, and far more than I expected that's outside of the expected discussions of faith and religion. But that meat is sandwiched in between two spicy slices of garlic bread because godDAMN, before the conclave even starts, Lawrence gets some dirt on someone that he doesn't know what to do with, and then the hits keep on coming. Berger and Straughan deliver twist after twist but keep every revelation grounded in complex humanity. They might as well change the name of the Sistine Chapel to Setec Astronomy because there are TOO MANY SECRETS. It's such a delight to see Fiennes staidly play detective while Stanley Tucci counters his British reserve with American jovialness. And despite the sausagefest, the film makes ample space for the sisters to play an important role beyond cooking and cleaning, as Isabella Rosselini's Sister Agnes gets a wonderful mic drop moment that had me fuckin' clapping. I cannot emphasize enough how much fun this movie that seems like it should be stuffy is. And yet it's far from disposable either.

This is extremely well crafted entertainment, with Stéphane Fontaine's striking wide-screen cinematography opening up these interior spaces so wide and deep I wanted to see the damn movie in 3D and Volker Bertelmann's ominous cello-laden score imbuing these proceedings with import and mystery. It's so damn satisfying in its progression as well, building to a rousing, idealistic speech that made me want to stand up and cheer. I don't care about Popes, but I do care about good movies, and this is a really good movie.