When you put two great actors together, you are almost guaranteed a certain level of success when it comes to the film in question. When two accomplished performers come together in a room and instantly gel and connect with each others’ rhythms, there is something so damn watchable about the whole thing; the drama of two actors talking in a room can be more enthralling than the most effects-laden blockbuster when done well.
The Two Popes – Image Credit: Netflix
The Two Popes has such a pairing of actors to rely upon in Johnathan Pryce and Anthony Hopkins. Two of Wales’s finest and most proficient actors, giving them the stage for a film focusing on the relationship between Pope Benedict XVI (Hopkins) and his future successor Cardinal Bergoglio (Pryce) seems like a slam dunk in terms of a captivating piece of actorly cinema. Why, then, does the film so often feel the need to break the two apart?
Largely focusing around Pope Benedict’s attempts to convince Cardinal Bergoglio not to retire from the Church in the hope that Bergoglio will be his successor, the film offers a look at some quieter moments between the two men, away from the prying eyes of the world. It is in these quieter moments, where the two holy men simply hang out, swap stories and play music that the film comes alive with the warmth of the performances delivered by Pryce and Hopkins.
Pryce imbues the film with a free spirit, one that very much acts as a beacon for Pope Benedict’s hopes for the future of the Catholic Church, as its reputation encounters its lowest point in the face of mounting controversy and scandal. Hopkins meanwhile makes Pope Benedict a very empathetic figure, a man who has lived to reach this purpose in life, only for it to make him feel weary and lost, missing that drive and the voice of God that he once believed was guiding him to where he is now.
The two may stand as ideological opposites, but that makes their relationship all the more intriguing and gives Hopkins and Pryce all the more to play with, allowing for their initially icy relationship to thaw into something that comes from a place of genuine warmth. In these moments between the two, the script is often very funny, acerbic and with a careful eye not to sugarcoat the Church they serve too lightly. It may not pry too much on the controversial details of the Catholic Church, but it touches just enough to ensure this isn’t just a fluff piece.
Where the film falters is in its desire to delve into Bergoglio’s history both within and out of the Church. It undoubtedly makes for a more rounded portrayal of the future Pope Francis, but it does so at the cost of its more intriguing central pairing. Too often the film gives way to flashbacks to Bergoglio’s past, moments which sap the energy out of much of the writing, as it becomes more about absolution than it does competing ideologies on religion. When the film then refocuses to its two Popes, you just long for it to hang more on the type of scenes that just see the men sharing pizza over a bottle of Fanta.
It is a shame that The Two Popes so often undermines its biggest strength in its two stars, as the two of them make for an engaging study into what kind of men lie behind the Vatican doors, beneath the lavish robes without the need for cutting away back and forth. But when the performances are as entertaining as they are, it is hard to dislike the film entirely. Never quite probing enough to be controversial, nor too light to be throwaway, The Two Popes offers just enough wit and personality to see you through, doubtlessly thanks to the two exceptional performances at its centre.
The Two Popes is released on Netflix on 20th December.
