Cardinal Sins
Reviews of Conclave and Black Box Diaries. Plus a roundup of Halloween rep screenings 🎃
Conclave
Opens October 25 in wide release.
If you were captivated by last year’s chaotic Speaker of the House elections, where Kevin McCarthy's eventual selection, after four days and fifteen ballots, was followed by an unceremonious defenestration just ten months later, you’ll be well prepared for the pulpy proceedings in this film. The Pope has died, and it’s on Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), the Dean of the College of Cardinals, to administer the titular conclave, wherein the cardinals vote to anoint a new leader of the Catholic Church. As the high-ranking clergymen arrive at the Vatican, so do the first of many twists. Rumor has it that the Pope dismissed a favored candidate just before his death, and a secret cardinal, appointed to lead a hidden archdiocese in Kabul, appears, shocking everyone with his existence. (The Pope may be dead, but he lived for the drama.) As the priests cast their votes, seeking the required two-thirds majority, factions emerge amongst this elite electorate. Grandiose speeches and betrayals abound, leading Dean Lawrence to compare the clandestine plotting to an American political convention. Whether he likes it or not, he’s entangled in the middle of a papalitical thriller.
Within the conclave, ideological lines reflect contemporary partisan divisions, perhaps too cleanly. The Cardinal Trembley (John Lithgow) embodies the status quo, a centrism that inspires neither love nor hate. American Cardinal Bellini (Stanley Tucci) champions reform, seeking to modernize the Church's archaic policies. Opposing him is Cardinal Tedesco of Venice (Sergio Castellitto), an Islamophobic traditionalist aligned with Europe's far-right parties. Center-right Adeyemi (Lucian Msamati) from Nigeria could become the first African pope, if the skeletons in his closet stay there. Even Lawrence garners some votes, a priest so milquetoast that the old Pope deemed him not the leader of the flock of sheep, but its manager. He’s the non-ideological technocrat that people say they want but never choose1. Finally, Benitez (Carlos Diehz), the secret cardinal ministering in war-torn lands, emerges as a fascinating newcomer, untainted by the Vatican's bureaucracy. Could he be the Catholic Obama?
Adapted from Robert Harris's novel by Peter Straughan, Conclave is a propulsive, juicy drama, the kind of movie where our finest screen actors can chew some scenery whilst wearing cassocks2. And when given the opportunity, there’s no greater pleasure than watching the likes of Fiennes and Lithgow ham it up. No one is having more fun than Castellitto, who presents his staunchly conservative Cardinal Tedesco as a chaotic, bitchy troll. At one point, it looks like he’s hitting the vape, but I think he was just clearing his throat. [edit: I have been informed that the right-wing Italian Cardinal is, in fact, vaping throughout the movie. He’d have my vote!] Sadly, much of the time the cast is hemmed in by director Edward Berger’s overly serious approach, mostly refusing to revel in the script’s potential for camp. His breakout film, a remake of All Quiet On the Western Front, was similarly plagued by this flaw.
Despite the straitlaced tone, this is a handsomely crafted movie. In particular, the immaculate sound design by Ben Baird draws attention to what you don’t hear. The characters' quiet prayers and hushed confrontations are absorbed by the dry, echo-less rooms of their Vatican hotel rooms. The cardinals are sealed off from the outside world, and the lack of background noise — tree leaves rustling, birds chirping, cars driving — emphasizes the Church’s seclusion from the world. Yet the world won’t hide from the church: an explosion goes off somewhere in Rome, and we can feel the not so distant rumbling. Even in their ostensible sequestration, the cardinals can hear the helicopters circling the skies.
Despite their differing doctrines, these prospective popes are united by their ambition. They all desire the power to shape the Church according to their own vision, even if they won't openly admit it (to others or to themselves). It’s striking that for a movie ostensibly about Catholicism, there isn’t much discussion of spiritual matters; it’s all partisan politics and debates about the Church's role in the world. If there’s a central theme in Conclave, it is that these characters may be men of God, but they are still men, subject to the worldly passions and ambitions. As unsavory allegations turn into scandalizing revelations, the good Dean Lawrence views himself as an impartial investigator, finding the facts so that the conclave can make a well-informed decision. But ultimately, his role is to protect the sanctity of the institution, or at least the illusion of it. The revealer of hidden truths becomes the keeper of the Church’s biggest secret.
★★★☆☆
Mahira Rivers, a former Michelin inspector turned food critic, just published an excellent examination of restaurant awards like Michelin and the World’s 50 Best. One particular section could apply to the Catholic Church, at least as portrayed in Conclave. Swap out “platform” with “candidate for pope,” or “organized religion,” if you are so daring:
Regardless of which platform you choose to love, or love to hate, each one represents an ideology. Michelin has a sense of aloofness grounded in its Frenchness. Bon Appétit offers an irreverent coolness that seems more concerned with vibes than actual cooking. The 50 Best list doesn’t care about you, the diner, at all. That one’s for the chef-auteurs, and chef-auteurs only (hence its waning relevancy). I could go on!
More often than not, the ideology, whatever it is, has to be self-serving. It has to be desirable to a large enough group of people to persist. How else does a platform maintain its power?
The Guide does not exist to serve the restaurant industry or boost the overly massaged egos of chefs. It does not attempt to be truly comprehensive or represent the tastes of the 99 percent. No, the Michelin Guide exists for the benefit of Michelin. – Jonathan Nunn, Mr Porter, but honestly, replace the Michelin Guide with anything.
The whole essay is terrific:
Eating the movie
The nuns are in the kitchen, keeping the cardinals fed as the debate and discuss the future of their Church. Early in the movie, we see the nuns folding up cappelletti pasta, which look a lot like a cardinal’s hat. Fold some “little hats” of your own (or boil Trader Joe’s tortellini) while sipping on some Italian red wine. One of my favorite wines is made by COS, a Sicilian producer whose Frappato has a permanent spot in my collection.
If you’re looking for a place to eat before or after seeing this movie, and you want to stick to Roman cuisine, you can do no better than Camillo in Prospect-Lefferts. They’re one of the few restaurants in New York to serve pinsa, a precursor to pizza. I also love the gnocchi alla Romana (sliced semolina with tomatoes and Parm) and the Coda alla Vaccinara (pappardelle served with braised beef ragù and cloves, which makes it kinda taste like pho).
And if you’re seeing this movie in theaters, would it be that big a sin to smuggle in some communion wafers and wine?
Black Box Diaries
Opens October 25 at Film Forum in New York; November 1 in LA, SF, and Chicago.
Nine years ago, young journalist Shiori Ito was raped by an influential reporter, a powerful man with close ties to then-Prime Minister Shinzo Abe. His stature with the government, combined with Japan’s archaic laws where “non-consent is not enough to prove rape,” resulted in a stalled criminal investigation. Ito goes public with her accusation and files a civil suit against her attacker, triggering a reckoning within her country’s patriarchal culture that dovetailed with the global MeToo movement.
Black Box Diaries is a personal, searing documentary that follows every step of Ito’s journey. Standing up to entrenched power comes at great personal cost, but she changes society thanks to her bravery. (Japan’s rape laws were finally expanded last year, in part due to Ito’s activism.) The film is made up of in-the-moment footage, news broadcasts, and iPhone confessionals, all of which were deftly woven together by editor Ema Ryan Yamazaki. She and Ito transform hundreds of hours of raw material into a gripping journalism procedural. The film is unvarnished when it comes to showing the uncomfortable aspects of going public as a survivor, particularly when the perpetrator is so well known. Unmarked vans stake out her apartment, and for several months she crashes with friends and family. During a particularly awkward phone conversation with a seemingly sympathetic man, the camera lingers on Ito’s stunned reaction. No words are needed for the viewer to know what’s going through her mind.
Ito precedes her film with a tranquil trigger warning, suggesting that viewers “close your eyes and take a deep breath if you need to.” As difficult as her film can be to watch, it makes Ito’s eventual victories ever more cathartic. This is a documentary that should be widely seen, not just because of important subject matter, but because it’s also an excellent example of how to craft an engaging tale of perserverance.
★★★★☆
The New York Times just published a good story about Black Box Diaries that gets into more detail of the production. I had wondered why Ito spoke so much English when she was “alone” in the film; it’s because she’s often talking to her Swedish producer Hanna Aqvilin, who was present for much of the filming.
Also in theaters this weekend: Dahomey, which I previously reviewed as part of NYFF coverage, as well as Memoirs of a Snail, which has been very well received, and Venom: The Last Dance, which has not. SoCal readers: Vietnamese-Ameican pop doc New Wave has a one-week run at the Laemmle in Glendale.
A Halloween Night at the Movies 🎃
October 31 is just one week away! If you’re looking to see a spooky movie that evening, New York has plenty of options. (For those interested, The Ringer just published a pretty extensive dive into the repertory cinema scene across the nation. Great read!)
Nosferatu with live score at the Nitehawk Prospect Park.
Onibaba on 35mm at the Nitehawk in Williamsburg.
In Tribeca, Roxy Cinema has a triple-header of Scream on 35mm, Suspiria, and Halloween.
Over in Astoria, MoMI has The Seventh Victim on 35mm and The Fog.
The Paris offers Psycho and Shaun of the Dead. (Village East is also doing some Psycho screenings.)
For those wanting a Halloween movie night closer to the real Paris, L'Alliance New York (fka French Institute Alliance Française) is showing an obscure (in the US) horror film called Baby Blood, followed by a free afterparty with drinks and snacks.
Further uptown, the Maysles Documentary Center is screening The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms for children and their parents for free.
Chelsea art gallery Hauser & Wirth is hosting a super cool program of spooky short films projected on View-Master, 8mm, and 16mm, plus a classic Roger Corman B-movie. And it’s free!
Sadly, you can only be in one place at a time. I’ll be at the MoMA on Halloween night, where Practical Magic is screening as part of a member’s only party.
And tomorrow, the New School is putting on a free (!) screening of the original Dracula, with a live performance of Philip Glass’s score. RSVPs are closed, but you can try your luck in the standby line.
Remember when we thought Kathryn Garcia could be New York’s next mayor?
If you need a last-minute Halloween costume, a Conclave cardinal is not a bad idea.