Two Popes, two Soldiers, two films to make a point of seeing

Historically, having two popes at the same time has tended to be a matter of conflict and bitterness. It happened between 1378 and 1417, when two men – and from 1410 three – all claimed to be the legitimate Pope and excommunicated the others.

So it’s curious to be living in a period in which there are, once more, two Popes at the same time. On this occasion, there is little bitterness and no conflict.

Jonathan Pryce as Cardinal Bergoglio, Anthony Hopkins as Benedict XVI

Perhaps Netflix felt that it was in the keeping of the spirit of Christmas to release its film The Two Popes in the run up to that great Christian festival. It is based around the moment in 2013 when the then Pope Benedict XVI is replaced, although still alive, by Pope Francis. It wasn’t the first time a Pope had resigned but it was the first in six centuries.

The film starts earlier, with Cardinal Bergoglio, the future Pope Francis, deciding to travel to visit Pope Benedict in Rome to press his resignation as Archbishop of Buenos Aires. Strangely, he has no sooner bought his air ticket than Begoglio receives a summons from Benedict to come and see him. This neatly sets an atmosphere in which we feel that forces beyond the mere will of man are at work.

The key sequence of the film is a series of discussions between the two men in which they confront their views on the nature and role of the Catholic Church. Do you know the comedy series Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister? If not, you should watch an episode or two (if you only see one, make it A Victory for Democracy, from season 1 of Yes, Prime Minister). The curious aspect of the series is that they are principally concerned with the relationship between three middle-aged, white men; there is no sex and no violence; but they produce some of the funniest and most effective TV comedy I have ever seen.

There is considerably less comedy in The Two Popes (though it has some wonderful funny moments). Like Yes, Prime Minister, however, it focuses on old, white men, brilliantly played by two outstanding Welsh actors, Anthony Hopkins and Jonathan Pryce, who swap reflections on themselves and their lives in a strangely gripping piece of cinema.

At the core is whether Benedict even has the right to step down, and whether Bergoglio can take over. The problem with Bergoglio is that he played a most unclear role in the dirty war in Argentina, when a military dictatorship was ruthlessly cracking down on its opponents. Torture and assassination were among its weapons of choice, and in failing to stand by two priests, Bergoglio may even have been complicit in their mistreatment. He repeatedly presents himself as a sinner, and he is chiefly thinking of this murky period in his past. But does that sin rule him out from becoming Pope or, on the contrary, make him all the more qualified to lead a Church whose main purpose is to deal with men and their sins?

It’s a fascinating film using a beautifully light touch to deal with some of the deepest questions that confront humanity.

If you have the time, it would also be worth reading the tie-in book for the film. Also called The Two Popes, it is by Anthony McCarten who wrote the film’s screenplay. It gives a more factual account of the events behind the film, making it clear, for instance, that the great conversation between the two central characters, vital for the drama of the film and truthfully conveying the conflicts between them and also within them, never actually happened.

Geroge MacKay and Dean-Charles Chapman set out on their epic mission

Another great film recently released is 1917. It is brilliantly directed by Sam Mendes and based at least in part on a fragment he heard from his grandfather. It tells the story of two young soldiers given a challenging assignment in the British sector of the First World War Western Front, to carry a message across territory recently vacated by German forces (or possibly not) to a unit which, without it, might launch an assault that would lead to its destruction in a carefully prepared German trap.

Sam Mendes uses long takes, giving the impression that the film has been shot in a single take, to drive the action forward with sustained intensity. It recounts just twenty-four hours of time. That’s the ‘unity of time’ of classical theatre, and it has a powerful focusing effect on the action. That is accentuated by the unrelenting concentration on the messengers, excellently played by George MacKay and Dean-Charles Chapman, in their race against the clock.

It isn’t by any means a standard First World War film. There is violence, but it is limited and certainly not gratuitous. Much of the action takes place outside the trenches, and even when inside, it is mostly travelling along them, the journey being the central action of the film as a whole. Above all, it is a classic epic, of a mission undertaken against terrible obstacles. As well as having many powerfully poignant moments, it is breathlessly compelling from beginning to end.

Two fine films. And one fine book. All worth the time they take.