For Berger, it all boils down to power struggles, where “each character asks how I become the top man.” In exploring that central question with each twist and turn, Berger not only hopes to cement Conclave as an intensely absorbing thriller, but also a sly examination of religion’s heavy politicization — as an institution that feels virtually indistinguishable from a political party and the purpose-defeating gamesmanship that comes with it.

Alan J. Pakula’s All the President’s Men and The Parallax View serve as clear, pivotal touchstones for Berger because he “loves the precision with which they were made.” “Pakula is one of the best directors in the world, and I loved how he precisely framed each shot and seamlessly brought the movie forward,” Berger says.  Conclave, in many ways, feels like a deft and immersive continuation of ’70s paranoid cinema, precisely because Berger is “always drawn to a second layer,” where the audience is brought to the edge of their seats by a need to “intellectually understand the game of thrones” — and how they become unknowing pawns within it. Like the classics it draws from, Conclave instills a palpable distrust of governing bodies in its audience with each twist.

That feeling looms over protagonist Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), who oversees the titular three-day proceedings where cardinals from all over the world are summoned and then sequestered to elect a successor to the recently deceased Pope. What initially seems like a contest between the progressive Cardinal Bellini (Stanley Tucci) and the reactionary Cardinal Tedesco (Sergio Castellitto) soon transforms into a Machiavellian powder keg. Sabotage in the form of rumours and long-kept secrets gives rise to new candidates, while others are mercilessly picked off.

Through the rubble of each heated exchange and fiery volley of words, Berger keeps the experience framed around Ralph Fiennes’ inner journey, who despite his fealty to the church is little more than a glorified “manager or organizer, not a real theologist.” “He has a crisis of faith,” Berger says, not in God or religion, but the institution that oversees it. Like many people caught in highly politicized systems, he “slowly expresses doubts about why he is there and what he is doing, slowly redefining his centre.” In taking such a personal, character-driven approach, Berger aims for Conclave to be both an exercise in socio-political commentary and a portrait of rediscovering purpose.

Despite predominantly taking place in one location, Berger takes a page from his multi-Oscar-winning war epic, All Quiet on The Western Front. He and cinematographer Stéphane Fontaine lend grandiosity, scope, and scale to the most intimate of conversations and interactions. “I just love photography, I love fine art, I love images, I love cinema when it’s big. And in the end, we are in the theatre business. We provide a feeling that you can’t get anywhere else,” Berger notes. “I’m just naturally drawn to these big images… cinema has this curtain that opens, and it sucks us in while never losing perspective of the actors.” Fontaine’s camerawork feels like an extension of the grand halls and chambers it takes place in, cutting through the stone and artwork to dissect the sinful tendencies of a holy institution, while enrapturing us in each conversation.

As the debate within Conclave unfurls, it holds parallels to the current, contentious political climate, namely the looming American election—especially during a darkly comic moment where Fiennes’ Cardinal Lawrence asks, “Is this what we’re reduced to, voting for the least-worst option?” “I started this movie six years ago, and so I couldn’t really predict which year we’d bring it out… and this one somehow serendipitously starts when there is an American electoral year,” Berger says. “But to me, it’s a universal story, and if it’s relevant to today, that’s even better.” While Berger shies away from any deliberate connotations, there is a prescience to Conclave that is hard to shake, one that will undoubtedly reverberate with each election cycle.

Berger notes that this connection is what motivated him to bring the film to festivals like Telluride and TIFF as opposed to Venice, the hallmark festival in the country where Conclave takes place. Berger says the film’s controversial religious perspective — including an explosive finale primed to ignite derision from ardent Catholics — didn’t play a role in the film’s release strategy. “I don’t really think about it,” the German director says. “I think the better opening was in North America, where the film somehow belongs.” Whether jabbing at the catholic base of Italy or the politically divisive climate of the United States, Conclave packs a riveting and contemplative punch. In a world that’s increasingly hostile and hesitant, Berger crafts a film that isn’t afraid to keep a contentious and much-need conversation open.

Conclave releases in theatres on Oct. 25