That College of Cardinals, what crazy guys. As they wait cloistered in the Vatican for the sulky new pope to come out of his quarters, they scamper around like a bunch of red-robed kids at camp. Before you know it, the atheist shrink (the director, Nanni Moretti) brought in to treat the pontiff has them playing volleyball. The Church hasn't seen such clerical innocence since Lilies of the Field, and Moretti gets credit for making a film about the Church in crisis that deals with none of the real problems facing the Church in crisis. Great actor though he may be, Michel Piccoli's depiction of the Holy See's existential funk seems like a bout with indigestion, and Moretti's analyst is more lubricious than humanistic. As he escapes his minders and wanders through Rome, the new pope brushes up against regular folks, i.e., a theater group rehearsing The Seagull. Turns out he wanted to be an actor himself, and in general is not very interesting. Habemus Poopam.
