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A Conversation about Faith and Power in Conclave (2024) and All the President's Men (1976)

  • Tina Ter-Akopyan
  • Feb 22
  • 6 min read

Updated: Feb 27

The art of filmmaking dates back to the late nineteenth century when footage of a train arriving at a station mystified audiences and changed how humans tell stories forever. While The Arrival of a Train (1896) might not impress anybody with an iPhone in 2025, this silent short film has served as the building block for filmmakers to later craft their own stories, as the technology improved and the medium expanded. With every film, a director introduces their own perspective and builds upon what past filmmakers have established in their works. In bringing films from different decades together, we witness an indirect dialogue between two artists trying to boil down the moral and ethical questions life throws at us. In this first installation of Films in Conversation, we will explore how filmmakers Edward Berger and Alan J. Pakula engage in a dialogue about faith, doubt, and power all through the framework of a political thriller in their respective films Conclave (2024) and All the President’s Men (1976).



On the surface, a fictional story about a cardinal leading the election of a new pope in the Vatican City and the real-life story of two rookie journalists tackling corruption within the White House seem to be worlds apart. The job of a cardinal is to have faith in the face of uncertainty while the job of a journalist is to doubt in the face of certainty. But what happens when a cardinal is overwhelmed with doubt and a journalist’s investigations are dismissed? Berger and Pakula show us how a reluctant cardinal and a pair of naïve journalists have more in common than meets the eye. Approaching their films through the lens of realism, Berger and Pakula are cinematic companions, as they transform two stories about ordinary individuals into thrilling dramas.


Despite their different backgrounds, Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), the leader of a fictional conclave to choose a new pope, and journalists Bob Woodward (Robert Redford) and Carl Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman), find themselves in the middle of the intense elections of the two most powerful institutions: the Catholic Church and the American government. Fortified by myth and history, Vatican City and Washington D.C. represent the impenetrable faith and power placed within the hands of the men who run these cities. Integrating wide shots of the grand and imposing architecture and statues, Berger and Pakula purposely highlight how these cities make the audience feel small and powerless. However, the foundations of these cities are threatened when Cardinal Lawrence and the journalistic pair start to uncover the secrets that lie behind the city walls.


In challenging the authority of these massive institutions, Cardinal Lawrence and the “Woodstein” team struggle to find a balance between embracing their doubts and finding faith in themselves. While Woodward and Bernstein see their seeds of doubt as an opportunity for a groundbreaking story, Cardinal Lawrence views his skepticism towards the church as a sign of defeat and guilt. As a result, Cardinal Lawrence tries to avoid the whispers of corruption in his conclave, until he realizes how embracing his doubt and investigating the misdeeds of the church can help him redefine his faith and find the right person to lead the institution.


“I could never become Pope on those circumstances. A stolen document, the smearing of a brother cardinal. I'd be the Richard Nixon of Popes.”- Cardinal Bellini (Stanely Tucci), Conclave


In contrast to Cardinal Lawrence’s reluctance, Woodward and Bernstein are ambitious and hungry to unveil the corruption of the government, even with only a few clues. Instead, Woodward’s and Bernstein’s main challenge is earning the faith of their peers and empowering witnesses to speak up. Despite the White House’s efforts to dismiss their credibility and deny their accusations, Woodward and Bernstein remain resilient in their efforts and continue pursuing the story until they convince others to trust them and put faith in their work.


“I can't do the reporting for my reporters, which means I have to trust them. And I hate trusting anybody.”-Ben Bradlee, All the President’s Men

In spite of facing hostility and being gaslighted, Cardinal Lawrence and "Woodstein" demonstrate, through their persistence, how the power of faith does not come from blind acceptance but rather from doubt. Doubt encourages reflection and introspection, which in effect leads to a stronger understanding of what one believes in. As Cardinal Lawrence aptly explains to his conclave, faith “walks hand-in-hand with doubt,” and without doubt, there would be “no mystery and no need for faith.”


“Our faith is a living thing precisely because it walks hand-in-hand with doubt. If there was only certainty and no doubt, there would be no mystery. And therefore no need for faith. Let us pray that God will grant us a Pope who doubts. And let him grant us a Pope who sins and asks for forgiveness and who carries on.”- Cardinal Lawrence, Conclave

The parallels between these two films go beyond their themes. Throughout the process of making Conclave, Berger cited Pakula’s realist approach to All the President’s Men as an inspiration. Both Berger and Pakula walk the fine line of grounding their stories in realism while also creating an engaging narrative. The detailed production design of the newsroom and the meticulous representation of even the mundane elements of journalism, such as making phone calls and reviewing government documents, help Pakula portray the events of the Watergate investigation as accurately as possible. Conclave follows suit with a focus on capturing the everyday routine and life of cardinals and nuns. From showing the cardinals scrolling on their phones to using Nespresso machines to even “hitting” a vape, Berger tries to humanize them, as such men are often put on a pedestal.  



However, through subtle techniques, Berger and Pakula find ways to intensify the emotional tensions and symbolic layers of their films.  For instance, both filmmakers pay specific attention to the use of sound design. One of the most famous uses of sound design in All the President’s Men comes in the opening scene when every click of a typewriter comes with the sound of a jarring gunshot. This stylistic choice immediately communicates how the words Woodward and Bernstein publish are as impactful and destructive as a gun.


 Conclave opens similarly with unconventional sound design, as the audience hears the intense heavy breathing of Cardinal Lawrence, who walks through the streets of Rome to reach the dying pope. This breathing puts the audience in the skin of Cardinal Lawrence and also shows the level of loss this creates for not only him but also the future of the Church. In the next scene, Berger heightens the sound of the cardinals removing the ring from the finger of the dead pope, highlighting how, despite their omnipotence, these religious figures are as humans as the rest of us.


The minimalistic editing style of both films also serves their realistic yet riveting approach. By holding cuts and leaving long takes untouched, editors Nick Emerson for Conclave and Robert Wolfe for All the President’s Men allow the emotions of each scene to simmer under the surface while steadily foreshadowing important clues within every scene. From a six-minute take of Woodward jumping through phone calls, as he pieces information together, to the precise and still shots of Cardinal Lawrence and his peers discussing the state of the election in an empty dim-lighted theater, these films give the audience time to observe the behaviors and underlying motives of each character.



With an almost fifty-year gap between these two films, Berger and Pakula surprisingly share a similar dialogue about the abuse of power and faith, albeit through completely different perspectives and characters. Both these films exhibit a specific cultural importance to the moment in time they were released. All the President’s Men connected to the disillusionment and loss of faith in the American government in the 1970s while Conclave serves as a fictional story illustrating the ego-driven and misleading nature of modern-day politics. Nonetheless, the themes tackled within these two films cross the boundaries of time and culture. At the core, each film reflects upon how men have built up these powerful institutions to protect themselves and their egos rather than serve the people who look up to them. The universal resonance of these films gives them a timeless quality that will continue to foster new perspectives and conversations on the topic of faith and power for audiences to ponder.

 

 

 
 
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