R. J. Martin

Masterful camerawork. Impeccable costumery. Gorgeous sets. An A-list cast of Broadway/West End caliber stage and film actors given Oscar-caliber direction based on a 2016 book (Conclave) by the professionally acclaimed author Robert Harris. If not for those reasons to see the film, then the story itself. An unveiling of the cloistered machinations of how Popes are selected. Yet, there is another reason to see it which speaks to the core of a not inconsequential debate raging in society today. As a cinematic effort, it deserves 5 out of 5 stars. I gave it four because the book, on which the film is based, demanded that the Catholic traditionalist portrayed in the movie be cast as a racist cliché while painting the liberals in varying altruistic tones. Notwithstanding the "who done it" entertainment aspect, non-Catholics might enjoy this film to allay their curiosity about how a two millennia-old hierarchy with 1.3 billion devotees selects its leader. On the other hand, Catholics should see it to prepare themselves for a fundamental question that their real-life Pope has already asked and answered. A matter the ancient Greeks no doubt confronted when contemplating Aphroditus.

Despite some spectacular cinematography and acting, the script delves into ridiculously contrived and entirely unnecessary scenes of white-against-black racial cruelty and bigotry. The kind only a virtue-signaling Hollywood liberal writer might imagine. That Sheridan would put up with it as a director and producer should make us question his judgment.