TORONTO, Canada—Thank God for Ralph Fiennes, whose charismatic gravity is the bulwark against Conclave’s escalating absurdity. As the man tasked with overseeing the selection of a new pope, Fiennes is a marvel of sobriety and meticulousness, his humble stature and by-the-books demeanor a sign of not simply his piousness but his unassuming attention to detail.
Confessing that he’s “fussy,” Fiennes’ man of the cloth is a uniquely understated center of attention, and considering that he quickly finds himself embroiled in a competition marked by secrets and conspiracies, he also comes across as a religious version of Agatha Christie’s iconic sleuth Hercule Poirot.
Premiering at the Toronto International Film Festival, Edward Berger’s follow-up to his Oscar-winning All Quiet on the Western Front is an adaptation of Robert Harris’ novel, and though it begins modestly, its destination is unpredictably outrageous. To be blunter, Conclave is a jester in papal dress, and it climaxes with a bombshell that, considering its façade of solemnity, lands with a hilarious thud. Fine performances abound, including from Stanley Tucci and John Lithgow, but the film is ultimately at odds with itself, its handsome appearance and severe attitude clashing with its pulpy impulses.
