Tallying the Votes: “Conclave”

You’d think that, after November 5, I would have had enough of elections. But there I was, two days later, checking out a film that is all about what it takes to get elected. No, I wasn’t watching  Reese Witherspoon as Tracy Flick doing everything in her power to be chosen student body president in Election. (That 1999 flick—both delightful and disturbing—turned Matthew Broderick of Ferris Bueller fame into a much-beleaguered grown-up, and established writer/director Alexander Payne as someone to watch. But I digress.)

 What I saw last Thursday night was not about high school girls in very short skirts, but rather about Roman Catholic cardinals in long ones. The brand-new Conclave, based on a popular novel, takes us behind the scenes of the election of a new pope , after his predecessor is found dead in his Vatican apartment. There’s been no murder most foul: it’s clear the old man died of natural causes. Both the public and the princes of the church are in deep mourning . But life goes on, and a new man must quickly be chosen to wear the so-called Ring of the Fisherman, like the one that has just been wrested off of the dead pope’s finger.

 That’s why Roman Catholic cardinals from around the globe are locked in the Sistine Chapel, directly beneath Michelangelo’s famous frescos, to choose one of their number as the Supreme Pontiff. Each will write a name on a small slip of paper, which  will ritualistically be slipped into a chalice. An appointed cardinal reads each ballot. Because it takes a two-thirds majority to win, multiple rounds of balloting are generally required. Then, at last, the burned ballots will emit white rather than black smoke, indicating to those waiting breathlessly outside that a new pope has been chosen.

 The film Conclave makes clear that, amid all the ritual formality of the Latin rite voting process, there’s often a real power struggle going on. The papal candidates make no speeches and issue no campaign promises, but their views are well known to their fellow cardinals, and factions naturally arise in support of various approaches to the ancient institution they all hold dear. Some skullduggery is also to be expected: the always memorable John Lithgow plays a cardinal who trips up a rival by dramatically exposing a long-ago transgression. We meet also a deeply conservative cardinal who seeks to undo many of the church’s recent reforms, a mysterious Mexican cardinal who was elevated in secrecy by the late pope, and Stanley Tucci as an American cardinal who’s probably too liberal-minded to be chosen pope. At the very center of the film is Ralph Fiennes as a deeply scrupulous cardinal faced with the unenviable task of managing the ins and outs of the Holy See. I should not overlook the film’s one important female character, Isabella Rossellini as Sister Agnes, who sees bad behavior that the cardinals will not admit to. There’s one point the film makes crystal-clear: every cardinal, no matter how modest his manner, secretly dreams of being elevated  to the papacy, and has long since picked out his papal name.

  Conclave is directed by Edward Berger who won acclaim for last year’s All Quiet on the Western Front. He beautifully manages the film’s huge canvas: Conclave is gorgeous to look at, and is well served by a fascinating score. The acting ensemble proves impressive, and Fiennes is deservedly getting raves for his complex role. Yes, toward the end the plot twists become increasingly unconvincing, but Conclave remains a satisfying behind-the-scenes look at a world we’ll never fully know.

 

Blowing Up the News Media in “Bombshell”

In popular movies of the mid-twentieth century, the word “bombshell” automatically suggested a woman of sizzling sexuality. “Bombshell” was generally proceeded by the nicely alliterative “blonde,” and Marilyn Monroe was the prime example. A bombshell, of course, also describes an unexpected revelation that creates major chaos. On both counts, the 2019 film Bombshell is well-named.  Its heroines all bear a striking resemblance to Barbie dolls, and it deals with a set of #MeToo revelations that blew up the power structure at the almighty Fox News.

The revelations of course concern the late Roger Ailes, the longtime Republican political consultant who ran Fox News (and Fox television stations) with an iron fist. The canny Ailes knew what it took to attract viewers: not only a clear-cut political ideology but also a bevy of  gorgeous female newscasters dressed to show off the their long, shapely legs, As Ailes was apt to insist, “TV is a visual medium.” What Ailes did not admit to was his predilection for keeping his female hires in line by demanding (and getting) sexual favors in exchange for plum assignments and promotions. The movie, set in the key year 2016, depicts what happens when a veteran Fox anchor, Gretchen Carlson, decides to sue Ailes for sexual harassment. She and her lawyers are of course counting on additional Fox employees coming forward to corroborate her story. Though Carlson’s lawsuit is the engine that drives the story, it’s paired with the situation of Fox’s queen bee.  Megyn Kelly, an attorney who had become an influential news host, incurred the wrath of candidate Donald Trump when she dared to question him about his behavior toward women during a 2015 presidential debate. The issue at hand: would Kelly risk her power by telling her own Ailes stories in public?  

Kelly is played by Charlize Theron, who used her Hollywood clout to get this film made, serving as one of its producers. The extent to which she reproduces Kelly’s well known face and voice is uncanny: no wonder that one of this film’s three Oscar nominations is for her performance and another has gone to the hair and makeup team who transformed her into Kelly, Nicole Kidman into a bland blonde Carlson, and (most remarkably) John Lithgow into a porcine Roger Ailes. Lithgow, one of my favorite character actors, is a far cry here from the lovably spacey Dick Solomon in TV’s 3^rd Rock from the Sun. His creepy demand for a new young hire to hike up her skirt well past the point of propriety is probably this film’s most indelible moment.

Though I appreciate Bombshell spelling out a key chapter in American social history, I do have some questions about its storytelling methods. With the focus largely on Kelly, I’m not sure what to make of sacrificial lamb Carlson. Before she files her lawsuit, is she moved by a growing feminist consciousness? Doesn’t she realize that doing a “hard-hitting” show in which she pointedly doesn’t wear make-up is pretty silly? And what about the third in the trio of gutsy, beautiful blondes? Margot Robbie (also Oscar-nominated) plays what is billed as a composite character, here named Kayla. She starts out as a Fox true believer, proud to announce her religious and political leanings, which are right in sync with the network.  Yes, she’s ambitious to become on-air talent, but she also hangs out with (and once shares a bed with) Fox’s resident lesbian (Kate McKinnon). In her key scene with Ailes, she’s perfected the deer (or should it be “dear”?) in the headlights look, but can we believe her evolution?