CONCLAVE 4/23/25

 

What happens when good actors collide with a banal script? You get the film CONCLAVE (definition: a meeting of Roman Catholic cardinals secluded continuously while choosing a pope.)  With the death of Pope Francis, this film is grievously up-to-date, attracting large audiences on streaming sites learning about the procedural practices of choosing a new Pope along with personal rivalries, intrigues, and the mundane political maneuvering that goes on in every secular election including the use of “dirty tricks” and unearthing “shameful” secrets.

Ralph Fiennes and Stanley Tucci stand out as the “liberal” humanistic Cardinals among the various ideological men-of-the-cloth who are flown in to the Vatican to vote for one of their own who will become the spiritual leader and powerful voice to the “faithful” worldwide. We glimpse men who are ultra-right/left/center/and pragmatic moderates - a microcosm of commonplace politics.

Surprisingly, I was rarely moved or touched by CONCLAVE, but intermittently, Fiennes and Tucci woke up the laconic silence with passionate speeches on morality, tired and tattered beliefs like a delicate cloth that is slowly unraveling, and “doubt” was sanctioned for its allowance of free will and thought. The beauty in CONCLAVE was in the richly ornate ambience; since the Vatican is off-limits, the cinematographers and costume designers did a good job in simulating the Sistine Chapel and the surrounding courtyard, as well as the vestments that the Cardinals wore - a sea of red hats creating an ocean of religiosity.

Women were the helpmeets - nuns cooking for the men, delicately adjusting the chalices and utensils - a dance of black gowns slowly winding their way in a dance of obedience. Isabella Rossellini, as an outlier, figures prominently as a catalyst to CONCLAVE, which has been promoted as a “thriller”- as she steps out of the line of duty, running and turning corners, the long dark dress flying behind her like an awkward marionette doll.

Now we come to the ending, which I will not reveal, but this contrived “deus ex machina” finale totally ruined the film for me. If I were in a theater - instead of watching on Amazon Prime - my groan would have been audible. After all the attempts at accuracy, the ending flew in the face of reality. No more to be said.

A LAMENT 2/9/25

 

He no longer looks at me. Very rarely speaks. Recently, S. had Covid for the first time, and perhaps he is still recovering - accounting for his further withdrawal into indifference.  Sleeping all day and night, the blankets covering his face, eyes closed - he is still and immobile except for the occasional stretches when my husband S. decides to shakily rise and continuously go up and down two flights of stairs - up and down, up and down - an exercise he devised for himself when he abandoned the gym- despite serious heart problems. I beseech him to ease up, but he continues moving, holding on to the railings. I no longer know what to do or say - having become the adversary, the nag -  his blue eyes become black, dark with anger when I approach. We have been married almost 55 years, but I am no longer seen.  Empathy is also gone.

We still get the New York Times delivered daily, but most days, it lies tightly bound flat on the bed unopened. I will not unsubscribe because having the NY Times in the house is a ritual passed on from my father, a loyal and avid reader.  One day, I found my father attempting to read the newspaper upside down -  resembling his world, which had turned topsy-turvy after a paralyzing stroke. My husband does use an iPad - lying in bed reading about a world in flux. At 83 and 85 years old,  will we be around to witness the outcome of this horrific domestic and global devastation? 

On the other hand, I still feel intoxicating anticipation for what the future will bring - fortunate to be able to focus on art, losing myself in the art-making process by attempting to convey contemporary life through portraiture and “history paintings" evoking humanity and beauty that I believe still exists in a world filled with pain and carnage.

Having lived with a person for so many years whose values I deeply respect, watching the drift into the oblivion of a cloudless night causes me ineffable anguish and tenderness. As we age, our world narrows physically - often through illness - and sometimes, our minds go back in time to retrieve the richness of the past’s vivid memories.

 Sadly, this year has been one of loss of friends who have returned into the unknown vagaries that become the end of life.