Joanna Wilson
The papacy has a cinematic quality, particularly evident in the selection of a new pope, as illustrated in the highly acclaimed film Conclave, featuring Ralph Fiennes as a reluctant candidate for the position. The mystery, the ritual, the vestments; the spectacle of a solitary, delicate human being hovering over a chasm of history and morality; the rise of one imperfect individual to a place of ultimate power, a glorification whose resemblance to the crucifixion is felt yet unspoken.
Exploring the portrayal of the pope in Conclave may tread into the territory of spoilerism, yet there have been numerous depictions of popes on screen, ranging from playful fiction to historical accuracy. A number of prominent British actors have delivered memorable performances as enigmatic Renaissance popes with hooded eyes. Peter O’Toole portrayed the cunning and unpredictable Paul III in the television series The Tudors (2007), overseeing a court of cardinals in the 16th century that was marked by a notably submissive demeanor. Jeremy Irons portrayed a small-screen Alexander VI in The Borgias (2011), embodying a family member whose visage exuded sensual refinement and an air of superiority.
When the pope is portrayed as a minor or supporting character, depicting him as a villain becomes simpler. Rex Harrison portrayed a rather dignified and unexciting Julius II, the so-called Warrior Pope, in Carol Reed’s The Agony and the Ecstasy (1965), frequently being berated by Charlton Heston’s Michelangelo as he endeavored to paint the Sistine Chapel ceiling.
In reality, the successor to the late Pope Francis will surely have witnessed a portrayal of a pope on film or television, observing the actor perform the iconic screen-pope moment: the camera trails behind, perhaps in slow motion as the applause crescendos, and, dressed in his unfamiliar robes, he makes his debut on the balcony overlooking St Peter’s Square while the senior cardinal proclaims “Habemus Papam” – “We have a pope” – and presents him by his chosen name. From the perspective of the new pope, viewed from behind his head, we observe the multitude of extras – or perhaps CGI images. Pope Francis’s successor must take genuine action.
Jonathan Pryce’s remarkably engaging and witty performance in Fernando Meirelles’s The Two Popes (2019) as Francis – or for most of the film, Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio – undoubtedly shaped the perception of the late pope, particularly for the secular unbelieving audience. Pryce’s future pontiff is subtle, candid, modest, yet conflicted, possessing a relatable, down-to-earth quality that both annoys and intrigues the current pope, the deeply traditional Benedict XVI, portrayed by Anthony Hopkins. Pryce’s display Francis is a pleasant individual, lacking the outbursts of anger attributed to him in reality, the Francis who believed it was acceptable to strike someone who disrespects his mother. Upon Benedict’s resignation, it is these two men who must share the Holy See as the dual popes. This distinctive duo enables the film camera to delve into a deep enigma – what is the experience of being pope, to perceive the pope as the pope perceives himself? The film depicts one pope receiving confession from another.
Notably, The Two Popes opens with Cardinal Bergoglio experiencing his Michael Corleone moment. The film envisions Bergoglio desiring to step down as Cardinal, seeking to withdraw from the political arena and the display of ecclesiastical authority – a notion that Benedict cannot accept. Similarly, Fiennes’s Cardinal Lawrence starts the Conclave to resign from his position as dean of the college of cardinals. This initial impulse of “resignation” clearly indicates the genuine possibility, or even certainty, of ascending to the role of capo di tutti capi. In Coppola’s The Godfather Part III, Michael Corleone, portrayed by Al Pacino, reveals his grave transgressions to Cardinal Lamberto—a fictional figure who, burdened by Corleone’s misdeeds, eventually transforms into a conceptual representation of Pope John Paul I. This character ominously delves into the corruption scandals within the Vatican, mirroring the legacy of his real-life counterpart. In The Shoes of the Fisherman (1965), Anthony Quinn’s fictional pope embarks on a journey reminiscent of the “Corleone” narrative, ascending to the pinnacle of power.
The reluctant or undeserving pope is a longstanding tradition. Poor John Paul I, who passed away shortly after his elevation, serves as an inspiration for Nanni Moretti’s We Have a Pope, where Michel Piccoli portrays the fictional Cardinal Melville, who unexpectedly finds himself in the top position and succumbs to stage fright. The film effectively illustrates how, during the conclave, many Cardinals are clearly longing to avoid the heavy burden that is about to be placed upon them.
In Peter Richardson’s farcical comedy The Pope Must Die (1991), Robbie Coltrane portrays the most outrageous reluctant pope, David I, a character that has been widely re-titled as The Pope Must Diet to prevent causing any offense. The film cleverly draws on the fact that a new pope does not necessarily have to be a cardinal. Coltrane’s antihero is a chaotic yet fundamentally sincere priest, Dave Albinizi, who is inadvertently promoted to the Holy See due to an unusual error and, similar to Lamberto in The Godfather Part III, faces pressure from the mob for investigating Vatican bribery and corruption too closely.
For pure amusement and shock, there is the extraordinary Pius XIII, previously Cardinal Lenny Belardo, portrayed by Jude Law in Paolo Sorrentino’s streaming TV drama The Young Pope. This new pope is seen smoking cigarettes – a surprising sight, perhaps, although John XXIII and Benedict XVI were both smokers – and even offers us the remarkable image of the pontiff walking along the beach, incredibly fit, dressed in nothing but small white Speedos.
What are your thoughts on the patriarchal and misogynistic aspects of Catholic governance? A number of female stars have portrayed the legendary and mythical Pope Joan, who allegedly reigned while concealing her gender for two years in the ninth century. Liv Ullmann took on the role of Pope Joan in 1972, presenting a pale and resolute interpretation, reminiscent of an ethereal Joan of Arc.
Being pope involves assuming a prominent leadership position in a challenging organization that many believe requires significant reform. The role is both challenging and often unappreciated, with feedback arriving at the outset and conclusion.
Imagine a film titled Great Again, crafted by a talented writer like Peter Morgan, where Jonathan Pryce returns to deliver another remarkable performance as Francis. The story could culminate in his final meeting with the slick yet oblivious JD Vance, portrayed by none other than Sam Rockwell. The elderly man, full of gentle wisdom, attempts to reach the heartbreakingly naive and vain vice-president, offering guidance on his lost soul.
