DRAMA; 2hr
STARRING: Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow, Lucian Msamati, Sergio Castellitto
A Fiennes mass: Himself
Mortality is a deadly serious matter (sorry), and never more so than when weighted with strategic sorrow for the death of the Pope. No sooner has the Holy Father expired in All Quiet on the Western Front director Edward Berger and screenwriter Peter Straughan’s juicy adaptation of the 2016 novel by Robert Harris than rumours are swirling thicker than in a schoolyard at recess.
As the dean of the College of Cardinals responsible for orchestrating the gathering of his fellow clerics to elect their next spiritual leader, Lawrence (Fiennes, in excellently burdened form) has his diplomatic work cut out for him while his fellow brothers jockey for the top job. Bellini (Tucci) is a liberal contender who doesn’t want to know — or does he? Beneath his tissue-thin geniality, conservative Tedesco (Sergio Castellitto) couldn’t be more covetous. Tremblay (Lithgow) may well be concealing a dark secret. Adeyemi (Msamati) is a stealth hot fav — or is he? Then there’s Lawrence himself, thrust reluctantly into contention while questioning his commitment. “You’re a manager,” he exhorts himself as the conclave is about to begin. “Manage!” Easier said, brother.
The Sistine Chapel production design is necessarily stellar, but low acts in high places and faith tested to snapping are what will swing this election. It’s in shadowy corners and corridors where its decisive work is done, as “mortal men [who] serve an ideal” converge in secret to hold court. Whether they’re to be pitied, condemned or saluted for the tenacity of their conviction is a question of personal belief in a cerebral thriller of biblical proportions.
