WLR #20

Conclave

Directed by Edward Berger

Conclave unfolds like a Vatican masquerade, its ornate corridors and Michelangelo art shadowing the centuries of power, the weight of it all, good and bad, that lay tucked behind the holy pageantry. The film’s appeal lies in how well it bears the weight of this institution, as Ralph Fiennes (who can once again furrow a brow like no other), Stanley Tucci (who always gives), Jon Lithgow (who can still do the “You guys think it was me?!” guilty face like no other), and a tough Isabella Rossellini playing a pious nun don’t miss single mark as they go about with their plots to climb the papal ladder.  

The game is afoot when the pope dies and a new one is to be selected.  The mystery deepens when secrets slowly come out, conversations occur behind closed doors, and the flock of cardinals figure out which ones are draped in personal ambition, and which ones are draped in, well, just drapes.

What’s curious though is the lack of audible grandeur, especially considering the talent behind the music. Conclave thrives on suspenseful, cloistered conversation, these dizzying power plays that work brilliantly—but Volker Bertelmann plays it too polite, too restrained. The film’s backdrop was the Sistine Chapel! A miracle of a place that demands crashing organs and piercing strings! I wanted the sound to itself become a character, I wanted it to impose, to amplify that foreboding dread. Maybe the demographic—boomers and up—called for restraint. And I get it, you can’t be dropping the bass on a theater full of AARP members, but the film needed that sonic weight to match its visuals. I wished Johnny Greenwood had scored. What he did for the procession of the dressmaker in Phantom Thread he could’ve done here for the Cardinal, catapulting what is a great film into the stratosphere. Or maybe the music it had just needed some umph! A better sound design… And I know, you’re saying Wendy Lee your nuts, his last score (All Quiet on the Western Front) knocked my socks off and won an Oscar. And that’s true, and maybe why I expected booming perfection. Yet, for all its quietude, Conclave still triumphs: a theological beauty pageant that sidesteps “Oscar bait” by combining the calculated maneuverings of Succession with an arresting atmosphere worthy of the Vatican’s richest frescoes.

Three-and-a-half-stars

Woman of the Hour

Directed by Anna Kendrick

Ah! the tightrope between documentary, true crime, and cinema.  Anna Kendrick (directing here for the first time), known to many movie goers for her self-deprecating wit and quirky charm, pivots to darker territory, casting herself as Cheryl, a young woman tangled in the web of a killer via a dating game in a plot almost too crazy to be true. Daniel Zovatto co-stars as Rodney Alcala, a serial murderer nobody seems too keen on catching, and is convincingly creepy. Kendrick and Zovatto capture tension, but the film itself struggles to transcend its insane (and heartbreaking) true story.

Woman of the Hour just feels too closely tied to the real events its inspired by, unfolding as a straightforward recount, seemingly a frame by frame, rather than a well layered narrative. By the time the credits roll, we’re left feeling like we’ve witnessed a “crazy true story,” yes, it was entertaining even, but it also leaves a crucial part of the cinematic experience untapped.

It’s gussied-up episode of Dateline worthy of a Tuesday night home watch. Streaming on Netflix now.

Two-and-a-half-stars