There are really only two ways you can watch The Two Popes – you can see it as either an innocuous attempt at humanizing two larger-than-life figures or as a well-meaning comedy about two men working through a very difficult relationship. In fact, both perspectives are entirely valid, and perfectly describe this film, one of the warmest and most endearing films of the year. Perhaps a relatively safe excursion into the biographical drama genre and not much else, The Two Popes is a really charming comedy about two very famous individuals gradually becoming friends simply through the realization that communication is key to any successful relationship. I will readily admit towards clear bias on my part towards this film – so much of what is explored here speaks directly to my own upbringing in the Catholic Church, and my fascination with the machinations of the papacy in particular, so while I went into this film with an open mind (especially because there are few people I trust less to write a worthwhile biographical film than screenwriter Anthony McCarten, who is doing his best work in years with this film, finally proving to move beyond the overwrought, saccharine malarkey he peddled in The Theory of Everything and Bohemian Rhapsody, two films without much merits in terms of telling a memorable story), there was also a predisposition that it was going to be something I’d relate to a lot more than many films, for better or worse. However, even if we put aside the personal connection, The Two Popes is a truly lovely film, the rare kind that is almost impossible to despise, purely considering how it is just a well-meaning exploration of two incredibly famous religious figures, looking beyond the formality we are normally witness to, and daring to go deeper into them as people, rather than public figures. By no means a perfect film, but rather one that isn’t weighed down by its shortcomings all that much, this is a delightful film – soft-hearted, often incredibly funny and deeply empathetic, it may not be a defining masterpiece, but flourishes as a relatively simple but effective piece of biographical filmmaking, and a resounding success.

The Two Popes is set mostly in 2012, when Pope Benedict XVI shocked the world as a whole by announcing his resignation from the papacy, being the first pope to willingly step down since 1294. Certainly one of the most memorable events of the year, it caused quite a stir and evoked many fascinating discussions, especially the role of the church in the modern era. This was only bolstered by the election of his successor, Jorge Bergoglio, the soon-to-be Pope Francis, a man who was quite a revolutionary, especially in contrast to Benedict XVI, bringing forward more progressive ideas and trying to introduce more modern concepts into the church, which had always suffered from allegations that it was far too archaic to be relevant. Most of us remember this event – but none were privy to what occurred behind closed doors, especially the relationship between the two popes. This is the subject of this film, where we are given access to a speculative version of what possibly transpired between Benedict XVI and the man he felt would be chosen as his successor. Two very different men with distinct personalities, beliefs, insecurities and quandaries, their relationship was one that could not have been particularly easy at first, especially considering they were the two frontrunners for the position in 2005, after the death of John Paul II. Yet, over time they seem to find a common ground, especially during Bergoglio’s trip to Rome prior to the resignation of Benedict XVI, where the two men spend a few days engaged in profound discussion and heated argument, making a case for their own vision of the directions in which they believe the church should head. Through the midst of their debates on dogma, faith and the role of a single individual in the leadership of an entire religious nation, they grow to understand each other, even when they find themselves somewhat incapable of agreement on many occasions, where their egos govern their interactions, with both men realizing along the way that beliefs are not infallible, and that change, as challenging as it may be, is entirely possible.

I’ll start with one of the flaws of The Two Popes that is not only the most common criticism levelled against it, but also the one that can’t really be justified, with the only difference being how each individual responds to this particular quality. The film, as is very common in the work of McCarten, somewhat softens these extremely famous personalities, reducing them from public figures to ordinary individuals. The film does tend to present them in a way that is almost too positive – the script is often too generous to both of them in how it presents them as almost without any discernible flaws, other than some stubbornness and some grand hubris, arrogantly believing their policies are superior to the other’s. The film doesn’t entirely ignore the controversies that were associated with the church at the time, and still remain very much relevant, but it doesn’t afford it the time most would’ve preferred. It’s difficult to defend the film for not exploring it further, but we can at least note that it doesn’t leave it completely ignored and that it would’ve been counterproductive to the message of the film to deviate too far into the scandal, which has been the subject of other works that have looked at them with greater sincerity than this one ever could. Those who have issues with The Two Popes for this reason aren’t entirely wrong – the film is a traditional biographical drama, so we can expect it to be relatively safe in its approach. The key is not to hold this ignorance towards the bigger issues against it, but rather to acknowledge the other merits the film has, especially in how it presents a version of the Catholic Church that isn’t without controversy but also isn’t as archaic and old-fashioned an institute as the formal image of it tends to be.

The Two Popes isn’t a film that wants to be a serious exploration of the scandals – it’s a well-meaning comedy about a fascinating world event and the two men at the centre of it, showing them working through their own personal challenges, especially in the case of how they perceive the other. So much of the film was sold on it being a relatively simple affair, mainly just a series of conversations between two men, one in an enormous position of power, another that is anticipated to occupy that same role very soon. The theatricality of The Two Popes is not absent – McCarten based this on a play he wrote, and it certainly does come across as such, but not in a way that could be considered weak. It’s a film driven by dialogue, and considering many films that attempt to look at religious order tend to go for something more grandiose, we have to appreciate this film for remaining relatively simple throughout. This doesn’t mean there aren’t moments of great splendour (the production design of the film was incredible, particularly in the recreation of the Sistine Chapel for one of the centrepiece scenes of the film), but rather that the most profound moments don’t come from the spectacle, but rather the very human interactions between the two main characters. There’s a certain authenticity to the film that comes across as being amongst its most significant strengths – no one would ever imply that the way these characters are portrayed is all that faithful, as McCarten does take it easy on them, presenting them as flawed individuals who are stubborn at best, antiquated at worst. Instead, the brilliance comes in the writer’s decision not to portray them as these massively famous figures who are intimidating in their influence, but rather as ordinary people who feel the same emotions and go through the same challenges as every one of us. Often a bit too soft-hearted to them as individuals (especially Benedict XVI, who is portrayed as simply an old-fashioned curmudgeon, rather than controversial religious figure who cared too much about the image of the church than the dignity of those who had fallen victim to it), and very much aimed at audiences who readily consume this kind of sentimental storytelling, The Two Popes isn’t the riveting social drama that seeks to have the difficult conversations, but rather one that wants to break down the people at the core of it. Whether one wants to see this as a failure in taking advantage of the platform or just as an attempt to look deeper into what was surely one of the most interesting relationships in modern politics, it’s difficult to deny that The Two Popes is very effective when it comes to creating a certain image of the subject, which allows it to make a statement: the poignancy of this statement is the only variable, and is entirely dependent on how each individual viewer engages with the film.

As a character-driven piece, The Two Popes was very reliant on the actors that were going to occupy the two central roles. Ever since his ascension to the papacy, many have noted the resemblance between Pope Francis and Jonathan Pryce, to the point where we can essentially consider The Two Popes the result of a grassroots campaign that propelled Pryce to eventually be cast in the role. However, his work here goes far beyond the simple fact that he looks like the pope – Pryce has been a dedicated character actor for an incredibly long time, and while he has often not received his due, he’s consistently praised as being one of the most talented actors working today. Whether in leading or supporting roles, Pryce is often the best part of many of his projects and stands out as someone who can play absolutely any role and be thoroughly convincing. The Two Popes offered him the chance to prove this like very few of his previous roles allowed, giving him the opportunity to play one of the most recognizable figures in modern culture, which was certainly an intimidating task, but one that Pryce clearly relished, as he delivered one of the year’s most sincere performances, a daring approach to a famous man that feels less like an imitation and more like an interpretation, something that most biographical films (including those from McCarten himself) seem to struggle with realizing. Contrasting Pryce in the other half of the titular papal duo is Sir Anthony Hopkins, who is delivering his best work in years. The past two decades have seen him struggle to recapture the astonishing work he did in the 1990s (one of the greatest streak of performances in acting history). This is a genuinely wonderful performance from Hopkins, who puts in a great deal of effort in bringing Benedict XVI to the screen, playing him as a nuanced character, but without ignoring the fact that he was ultimately a very controversial figure. The chemistry between Pryce and Hopkins is what propels the film – they are so wonderful in their interactions, and they find a common ground where neither actor is trying to upstage the other, but rather engages in a symbiotic relationship that elevates the film and makes it far more than two hours of a pair of old men talking – The Two Popes rests entirely on the very capable shoulders of these two actors, and they both give truly compelling performances that may not be their most daring work but is amongst their most sincere.

In commenting on the intentions of making a film that imagines the private conversations of two very influential figures, many have commented that while we may not ever actually know what they spoke about during this time, the film intends to fill in the blanks, and present us with a speculative vision of what it could have been like. This wasn’t done just to make The Two Popes an entertaining romp that shows us a different side of these famous religious figures, but rather as a way of exploring their backgrounds in a way their public personas, as well as their duties as leaders of the Catholic Church, never allowed them. In the case of Bergoglio, there are extended sequences showing his younger years as a priest in Argentina at the time of great political upheaval. The film goes quite far in showing that there is more to both of these men, especially him and that his persona of being a relatively liberal, progressive individual didn’t only have its origins in his faith, but in something much more tangible, where he may have been a devoutly religious man, but was also a fundamentally human individual as well. The film doesn’t venture too far into commenting on his earlier life, where he was involved in the revolution in quite ambigious ways – and mercifully so, because the segments that see Bergoglio relaying tales of his time as a young priest during this perilous time were by far the weakest parts of the film, which we can associate with the film’s director, Fernando Meirelles, who has had a storied career as a filmmaker, including the highly-acclaimed City of God, which tread similar narrative territory to these segments of the film. The decision to keep the pasts of these two men relatively vague is mainly because The Two Popes isn’t too concerned with the details of his past, but rather how the very public lives of these two men were pieced together by fragments of experiences over the course of their very different paths, which converged in this very unconventional relationship that started out as a rivalry, and ended as a magnificent friendship, or at least that’s what the film is proposing.

Ultimately, what makes The Two Popes special is that this is a film about friendship more than anything else. The centre of the film is the relationship between these two individuals who were connected by their role in the politics at the very top of the governance of the Catholic Church – the retirement of Benedict XVI and the subsequent rise of Francis was something we all witnessed, so it isn’t unfamiliar territory. However, a straightforward account of these events would not be nearly as compelling as what this film is intending to say. Some tend to think that it’s trying to humanize these people and make them relatable – and to some extent, this is certainly true. There are moments in the film where the characters bond over very ordinary things – pizza, soccer, mindless television shows and music being the main points that many bring up as being indicative of the film trying to present them as characters we are supposed to identify with. This isn’t a bad observation, but it’s also not a weakness of the film, mostly because it doesn’t really want to give us the details of Vatican politics or explore the backstage drama in a way that would distract from the very simple story at the core of the film. The Two Popes cares too much about these two characters, and their relationship (speculative as it may be), and while it sometimes feels a bit forced, almost as if scenes of quirky behaviour were inserted between more serious moments, almost as if to be comedic relief, it works in a very strange way, where it feels authentic despite the very clear attempts to erode the very formal perspective that the two popes have come to be known for. It’s an approach that would’ve been absurd in most other instances, but considering Meirelles employs a more subtle style for most of the film, it doesn’t feel all that gaudy and manages to actually be quite effective in conveying a particular message, one that proposes that even the most powerful people in the world need to realize that communication is key to any relationship.

I thought The Two Popes was really terrific – it’s not the most original of films, and it is understandably a divisive film. It does take quite a risk in presenting us with a version of a story that doesn’t ignore the underlying institutionalized problems but doesn’t quite distract from them either, and some may see it as being flippant and dismissive of bigger problems plaguing the church, others as a banal, toothless exercise in overt sentimentality. However, beneath the upbeat sheen of The Two Popes, there is a very meaningful message that’s conveyed with such sincerity and heartfulness, it feels inappropriate to be entirely against this film, if only because it truly means well. There is a great deal of conflict in the film, and a lot of it is based around the main characters’ abrasive reactions to the other and their beliefs, and how they constantly clash over various issues. However, it’s never excessive, and it is ultimately a wonderfully hopeful story of two individuals coming together and working through their differences to resolve a certain set of issues. The fact that they were two highly influential religious leaders is secondary and only serves to ground this film and give it context, rather than being the driving force behind it. The performances from the two leads are their best work in years, and the film is executed with a kind of elegance that most biographical films lack, a simplicity and avoidance of saccharine emotion that seem to be the basis for many films in this vein. The Two Popes may often be a bit slight, and doesn’t always go where it logically should, but we can’t begrudge such a warm and good-spirited film, because this is nothing more than a pleasant experience, a sweetly charming comedy that manages to take some very serious real-world issues and deliver them in a way that both provokes thought and incites the endlessly familiar sensation of pure, unbridled joy in viewers of all ages, who will, at the very least, just be thoroughly delighted with this wonderfully eccentric work of biographical filmmaking.