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Conclave: A Cinematic Call to Light and Connection

The new film “Conclave” is a suspenseful thriller about a group of cardinals who are tasked with electing a new pope after the previous pope’s death.

A reluctant yet competent Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes) is assigned the job of running this conclave. As is tradition, the cardinals and a handful of nuns and priests who serve them are sequestered, cut off from the outside world as differing factions angle for the ultimate seat of power in the Roman Catholic Church.

As the 2024 election results were tallied on the evening of November 5, my husband and I also chose to temporarily sequester ourselves. But instead of finding ourselves in a dimly-lit Sistine Chapel or a shrouded and shielded Vatican residence, we retreated to the darkness of our local movie theater to be transported to the drama of “Conclave.” 

Like the world that spun on outside our theater, the film tells a story of human struggles for power in a system where a relatively small body makes decisions that impact the lives and belief practices of millions.

You would think a movie like “Conclave,” which blatantly compares itself to U.S. politics in a line of dialogue, would elevate my election night anxieties to an all-time high. Instead, I left feeling energized, inspired and hopeful about what it means to be a person of faith doing their best to act with conviction in the face of constraining human-made systems.

In the days before the arrival of all the voting cardinals, viewers are bombarded with sounds of construction as the Sistine Chapel and related buildings are made sound-proof and heavy-duty shields are installed to block out light and stimuli from the outside world. The message at the start of the process is clear: these powerful men of faith will attempt to make their world-changing decisions in a vacuum, separated from everything outside.  


Throughout the film, Cardinal Lawrence holds a unique and challenging position. As the person tasked with running the conclave, he is essentially the only cardinal with occasional access to input and information from the outside world. If the conclave’s decisions are meant to be made in a vacuum, he is the one person who can let any air (or light or sound) in.

Sometimes, he asks an assistant to help track down information regarding rumors circulating among the Cardinals. At other times, Lawrence decides he must stay committed to his own need to stay sequestered.

The plot of “Conclave” evolves as a forever-growing decision tree for Cardinal Lawrence. With every move he makes, he must wonder, “Who can I trust?” or “Am I using my power appropriately?” or “What if I break a major tradition of my faith?”

With each of Cardinal Lawrence’s self-determined answers to those questions, he uses his privileged position at the conclave to shed more light on the vacuum of its procedures. He does this by sharing information and having private, heart-to-heart conversations about faith, service, and tradition.

As the film approaches its climax, these internal struggles come to a head in a moment of chaos, and Cardinal Lawrence’s proverbial light is reflected in the drafty historical chapel’s literal light. From that moment on, each faction’s hypothetical arguments and postures become tangibly grounded in real-world consequences. 


Without spoiling some of the film’s most delicious twists and turns, I will say this: In the final scene, the heavy sunlight-blocking shades are lifted from Vatican residence windows. The sequestering is over, and the light and air streaming into Cardinal Lawrence’s room from an open window reflect that the arbitrary divide between the cardinals and the rest of the world is forever changed.

The light of information and questions shed throughout the film has made a difference.


So, what did I, a person of faith, take away from my time sequestered with this film as different states were colored red and blue on Steve Kornacki’s map?

Among its many messages, “Conclave” reminded me that our decisions affect one another even when we wish to worry only about our own bubble of people like ourselves. I stepped out of that theater and back into an evenly divided country that mirrored the divisions amongst the movie’s cardinals, but with an internal reminder that as people of faith, we are called to be salt and light in this world. 


Like Cardinal Lawrence, some of us are handed weighty privileges that can seem like too much to navigate. Perhaps we are tempted, as he was, to stick our heads in the sand when the burdens of our power seem too stressful.

But in the end, “Conclave” reminds us that our decisions and actions can never be made in closed-off corners of the world that reflect only our own interests.

It is the job of people of faith, especially those of us with unique power and status, to let light in. We are responsible for breaking down our arbitrary divides and doing good even when human-made systems create fear, stress and confusion.  


Perhaps this election season has messed with your own sense of hope, security or trust, and you would love nothing more than to retreat forever. If that is the case, consider going to the movies for this surprisingly riveting and sacred meditation on acting with integrity in the face of division. 

Erin Phelps is an ordained Baptist minister currently working for the Faithful Formation Project (@faithfulformation). She is a member of Highland Baptist Church in Louisville, Kentucky. Erin’s educational background includes a bachelor’s in communication, a Masters in Women’s and Gender Studies, and a Masters of Divinity.

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