Photo courtesy of Netflix
The Two Popes (2019)
As written for the stage by Anthony McCarten and adapted for the screen by Brazilian director Fernando Meirelles, The Two Popes doesn’t cheer-lead for one or the other but involves a reversal of expectations. The protagonist most is revealed as flawed; his coprotagonist, aloof and cold, comes to earth as warm and engaging. The Two Popes is also a dialectic of thesis (Pope Benedict XVI), antithesis (Pope Francis) and synthesis (they’re drinking-soccer buddies as the closing credits roll).
Art house cinema buffs will recall Meirelles’ Oscar-nominated City of God (2002) and contemporary moviegoers will know McCarten’s biographical screenwriting from The Theory of Everything (Stephen Hawking) and Bohemian Rhapsody (Freddie Mercury). Their collaboration in The Two Popes results in sympathetic (yet not hagiographic) profiles set against troubled backdrops. Both popes have reason to feel guilty about past decisions and inadequate for the role they have assumed, whether eagerly (Benedict) or reluctantly (Francis).
The 2019 Netflix film saw only limited theatrical release—just enough to qualify for the Academy Awards. The Two Popes earned Oscar nominations for Best Actor (Jon Pryce as Francis), Supporting Actor (Anthony Hopkins as Benedict) and Adapted Screenplay (McCarten) as well as a raft of Golden Globes and BAFTAs.
It’s not backhanded to comment on The Two Popes’ suitability for small screens. Although the cinematography is beautiful, the core of the story is a sequence of conversations between a pair of antithetical figures who learn to respect—even gain fondness—for each other. Benedict even undergoes a change of heart—one might say he found his heart, confessing that he had led an arid life of the mind removed from the existential dimension of a spiritual life.
Pryce plays Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio—Pope Francis by the end—with warmth and empathy. He works a crowd with good humor and is more comfortable on the rundown streets of Buenos Aires than amidst the Vatican’s baroque splendor. Hopkins’ role is more challenging as he reveals the imperious Benedict as lonely and lost in a dark night of the soul. His Benedict is also the source of most of the film’s amusing moments, whether through his dry but character-revealing sense of humor (“English is a terrible language—so many exceptions to so many rules”) or his cluelessness about the world. Benedict recorded an album of piano music at Abbey Road and conversation on The Beatles leads to a puzzled dead end when Benedict says he’s never met Eleanor Rigby.
The debates between the two men touch on age-old theological questions. “Sacraments are not a reward for the virtuous,” Jorge reminds Benedict when chastised for giving communion to divorced people. When Benedict insists that God does not change, Jorge replies that nothing is static, not even God. “This is your ego talking,” Benedict says. “We defend 2,000 years of tradition but you know better.”
The Two Popes can be criticized for Benedict’s rapid surrender to his rival’s charm. However, to their credit, neither the screenwriter nor the actors assume a simple reform versus status quo, liberal versus conservative attitude. Francis is the major character (hence Hopkins’ nomination only for Supporting Actor) but—upending expectations—he isn’t the hero and Benedict the villain. The screenplay gives a glimpse into the complexity of thought and practice in the divergence between two men who share a different vision of the same faith.
