You know that feeling when someone's hand is rummaging inside your backpack? It does not even matter whether you know whose hand that is. Your enemy's or your best friend's. What matters is this great sense of discomfort that ties a painful knot inside your stomach. You feel powerless, cheated, compromised.
Which is exactly the sense I got when I watched films like Breaking The Waves or Dogville all those years ago. One way of looking at it would be to say Lars von Trier is a masterful director who can really get into you. I would argue, however, that the sour taste goes way beyond that. Because I do not actually mind the sense of discomfort when it comes to art (after all, there is nothing especially comforting about the image of Leopold Bloom ogling girls on the beach), it is manipulation that I find so jarring.
Von Trier is not even the worst culprit. The Danish director is hardly idealogical (as he himself would be the first to admit), he is only there to manipulate your senses. Which, let's admit, is hardly a criminal act. To some extent, most art does that in order to exert impact on its readers and viewers. It is just that von Trier mutilates a duck for you to get there. Whether he does that figuratively or physically is an entirely different matter; the problem is that it all results in a certain lack of sincerity that has little to do with great art. Still, it is somehow much, much worse when art goes after your politics. Like Conclave, for example. And God do I hate to say that. Because I was really enjoying the meticulously constructed tension right until that unpredictable final act. An act so unpredictable as to be completely and utterly predictable.
The film is based on Robert Harris's 2017 eponymous novel about the death of a Pope and a rather lengthy election of a new one. This could sound impossibly dull, except that the devil is, of course, in the details. Actors like Ralph Fiennes and Stanley Tucci really stick their teeth into the material, and right away you are caught in the little games that everyone seems to be playing here. The sheer amount of plotting and scheming is quite impressive, and it is intriguing to get behind the scenes of a world so famously cloaked from the rest of us. Especially when you add to it the lush cinematography (the scene with umbrellas is immediately iconic), the unsettling music and the silent and mysterious figure of Isabella Rossellini.
That there is so much dirt and backstabbing in the world of organised religion is hardly surprising. That there are different factions within the Catholic church is equally credible. That the whole thing is teeming with scandal is common knowledge. The film deals with these matters very skilfully (the more I think about that script, the more Machiavellian it gets), and I actually enjoyed those brief yet insistent moments of the outside world encroaching upon the intimate proceedings. However, when the final act finally started, I actually began to whisper to myself, prayer-fashion, begging for them not to go there. But they did, full-on.
It is not even about my politics, really. Or anyone else's, for that matter. Being an immigrant, I hated the image of that girl on the balcony at the end of Knives Out. And being an atheist, I equally hated the cheap resolution that Conclave finally settles into. Still, I am not going to spoil it for anyone. Because I believe the film is worthy of being seen (worthy of an Oscar for Ralph Fiennes, too) - if only to witness how badly it all falls apart at the end. With what manipulative twist. With what religious abandon.
