I confess: my first thought this morning, when I heard the news that Pope Francis died at the age of 88, was of Conclave. As in both the lowercase, technical meaning – the sequestration of cardinals to elect a new pope with a two-thirds majority – and the capital-C film of the same name from last year, which allowed viewers to vicariously participate in a process long shrouded in secrecy and reverence. (And premiering during the US vote, to experience election thrills without grim disappointment.)
The film, directed by Edward Berger, luxuriated in process both sacred and profane – the orderly processions and cafeteria run-ins, the ceremonial burning of paper votes and security screenings, the white smoke and the complimentary toiletries bags. The hallowed halls of the Vatican and the gossip that flits among them, especially as different factions compete to see their vision cemented by the most powerful religious leader in the world. As a deft and highly entertaining thriller on the furtive process of electing a new pope, well, you can expect people to consider Conclave as close to documentary as laypeople can get to the action. But how accurate is it?
