An outside look at the Church
I read Conclave just days after the Pope’s death, which made the experience feel even more immersive. I'm not Catholic and I don’t have a deep understanding of the Church’s rituals, yet I was captivated by the conclave’s rich tradition and by Robert Harris’s respectful portrayal of that world, grounded in real interviews with cardinals and visits to the Vatican.
The parts with spoilers are properly marked and hidden.
The narrative and Lomeli’s gaze
The story follows Cardinal Lomeli, tasked with overseeing the election of a new Pope. Torn between very different candidates, like the hardline conservative Tedesco and the popular, media-savvy Bellini, Lomeli offers a more introspective, morally anchored perspective on faith and leadership.
As the ballots unfold, long-buried secrets rise to the surface. One of the most compelling figures to emerge is Benitez, a Philippine cardinal with a mysterious past and a quiet presence that radiates trust and serenity.
The ending is both bold and thought-provoking. It raises difficult questions about gender and identity, and diverges sharply from the film’s more restrained approach. In real life, the Benitez of the film might be accepted as Pope without much resistance. The Benitez of the book, however, would undoubtedly spark a crisis. Harris took a daring step in crafting this scenario, and he deserves credit for it.
That said, the idea that the book’s Benitez could live into his sixties without knowing the truth about himself feels far-fetched. It works as poetic license in fiction, but it would likely feel jarring or anticlimactic on screen. The film’s decision to tone this down is understandable in that context.
Benitez across page and screen
Benitez is a fascinating character. In the novel, his authority comes from pastoral experience and deep humility. In the film, he takes on a more symbolic, almost ethereal role. One lovely detail is the recurring image of turtles, used as a quiet metaphor for endurance and resilience. Still, in both versions, he represents a form of leadership that blends strength with compassion.
His journey of self-discovery and quiet suffering echoes Lomeli’s closing vision: a Pope who doubts, who is vulnerable. Through his identity and silent faith, Benitez becomes that flawed, deeply human figure.
Ideologies and contradictions
Tedesco and Benitez stand at opposite ends of the ideological spectrum, yet both come from humble beginnings. Bellini, on the other hand, is the so-called reformer, but ultimately reveals himself as superficial, someone who speaks of change but clings to the institution’s core structures. Both the book and the film gently critique this kind of paralyzing moderation.
The film’s decision to omit Benítez’s direct critique of the Iraq War and the destruction of Christian communities isn’t just a narrative adjustment, it’s a conscious choice that weakens the story’s political weight. By softening the confrontation between tradition and lived global suffering, the adaptation avoids holding Western powers accountable. In today’s context, especially amid the mass killings in Gaza, this omission feels particularly stark. It robs the film of the moral urgency that defines the book, reducing a bold and necessary critique to something safer and more symbolic. While the movie remains compelling and well-crafted, this choice stands out as a moment of retreat, a missed opportunity to confront real, uncomfortable truths head-on.
Final thoughts
Conclave is more than a religious thriller, it’s a story that digs deep into faith, power, and identity. The adaptation is well-crafted, but it plays it safe, choosing subtlety over confrontation when it matters most.
Still, both the novel and the film leave a lasting impression. In times of moral and institutional crisis, Benitez calm, steady, and full of doubt, emerges as a powerful symbol of renewal.
by Apprehensive_Land142