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machecazzostofacendo · 3 months ago

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Aldo Bellini and the prospect of the papacy, ambition, the moth of holiness...

I don’t think Aldo is necessarily full of shit about him not wanting it, far from it, actually. It takes him literally one evening, after the first round of voting, to admit to Thomas that yes, he already has a papal name chosen, understandably so, that he feels slighted. That the role meant to be his burden is suddenly drifting further out of reach, and that this makes him feel like a failure. Not because of any opposition, but because his friend, albeit unintentionally, has become the figure at the center of that shift. It's their faction that fractures first, and that must be terrifying. Especially knowing this was the same faction that, last time, managed to rally behind a single candidate, and yet his allies are not able to do so for him...

They all have ambition, that’s true. Every last one of them likely has a name picked out, that's not exactly bad assumption to have, that these man took the mantle and had this silent vision, a moment rehearsed in private, it's not a sin, that's why Aldo takes Thomas's pick with a smile later, not because he won an argument, but because he's relieved to know his friend enough to be right about him...

The weight and ambition probably comes with being the heir apparent. And not just because the newspapers crowned him that, his colleagues probably did, too, the public, the internet certainly did. That kind of expectation means scrutiny. It means personal attacks. And it can’t all be for nothing, can it? The months of feeling like shit, months of being aware of all the scheming behind the scenes, while he was busy to even think of himself. Being the heir apparent means the late pope likely made subtle efforts to ensure it looked as though Aldo was his intended successor. That creates its own trap, if the legacy doesn't continue through you, then it might not continue at all. In those final months, Aldo was the one defending the pope’s teachings, he was the one at the centre, standing up to Tedesco, increasingly isolated just like his late friend, and that, in retrospect, must have felt like a prelude. The Pope is the most isolated man in the world. It's a lonely life. A death sentence dressed as a white cassock. And he was close enough to feel this and still ready to accept the role if it came to that.

It’s not about ego either, not in the sense that he thought no one else could win. He never voted for himself. He didn’t dare, because he didn’t see himself as worthy. I don’t think he’s lying to Thomas at the start. Deep down, in his heart, he knows he shouldn’t be pope. In the book, he votes in the first round for someone with no real chance, someone he personally favors, then he votes for Lomeli, over and over, even at a point while he still stood a chance... till the last round unable to vote for the man of prayer, for Vincent, he probably believes in divine intervention, but he can’t convince himself that Vincent’s speech would be enough to move a curia that’s been immovable for years to him. So he votes for what seems like the rational choice, because to him, that’s all the Church knows how to accept.

That’s not a man driven by pride, that’s just someone disillusioned, someone who may have started as an idealist, wanting to be an instrument of grace, but who found himself a damned bureaucrat. Not because he wanted to be that, but because the institution slowly, quietly, made him one, he was just a pawn and this was the only way to remain in the game. He doesn’t want to be campaignin, doesn’t want to be center of it all, especially later after the report, when taking over as Dean would only damage Thomas's reputation as it would deem his actions wrong enough to step down, so he doesn't take over, even if that might have been a chance to win against Tedesco himself, it wouldn't be impossible, after all, what they needed from Tedesco was one outspoken speech to discredit himself and that was still coming.

At the start, he probably hoped the election would be smooth enough that he could avoid campaigning at all. But he still steps up, in private, out of duty, out of honor, presenting himself and his views as unmovable... And once again, he's already isolated from the rest of them by then.

That’s why he accepts Tremblay’s offer, if he does at all, if it was ever made. It's not like the same offer wasn't made to Lomeli by Adeyemi the day before. Not to climb or to cling to power, but because he wants to preserve a legacy. He doesn’t want to let his entire life’s work (and not only his) be swept aside by the wrong hands.

And yes, he’s personally against Tremblay. Against Adeyemi too. He says as much to Thomas. But he’s diplomatic with Sabbadin, with his faction. He knows how to speak the language of the curia, how to smile and say, 'tell in Milan to rejoice at the first African pope', even as he doubts the viability. He’s not naive, but he’s not bitter either. He still loves the Church, even when it wounds him...

And he won’t discredit his brothers publicly, not the way Thomas would. He is just different, believes in process, even if it's slow, even if it hurts, that does not make him a coward.

He probably never wanted to be Secretary of State either. He’s good at it, sure, but it wasn’t his calling. Thomas was meant for that role, a polyglot, charming, well liked by all factions, and if it weren’t for his illness, he’d still hold it. Just like later, Thomas becomes Dean when he shouldn’t. They’re both thrown into roles by misfortune and it ruins their chances to be truly papabile in a way, because they are simply both too miserable once the conclave starts.

Aldo’s job was probably hell, his boss and friend was dying, Thomas was dying and pushing him away. The two of them are trapped by circumstance.

He became cold and unfeeling to the world, an austere intellectual, a calculated mind, because someone had to... Because he had to be the representative, the diplomat, the head of state. All so the late Pope’s legacy wouldn’t be tainted by the weight of his personal choices, just carried by his servitude, he made himself the shield, so the papacy wouldn't bleed.

And yes, he felt ambition. Which one of them didn’t?

It's not like Vincent had never felt a flicker of ambition in his life, that’s just bullshit. Let’s be honest, men like him don’t end up on terrorist hit lists by accident. He stood out, made himself visible, traveled into danger, sought out suffering, showed up wherever he believed he was needed. And he didn’t just stop there either, he climbed. Not for the sake of power, but because rising meant reach, the higher he got, the more he could do. If he were truly without ambition, he would’ve stayed in some quiet parish in Mexico, lived and died there, and let the world burn around him. But he didn’t. He went up, he went forward, he chose to. And that is ambition, just of the holy kind.

It’s not that their impressions of each other are wrong... Vincent is charming, and naive in his own idealistic way. Aldo is brilliant, brilliant and tightly wound, neurotic in that way only men burdened by both conscience and control tend to be. But the point is, they aren’t two-dimensional, they don’t stay fixed in those first impressions, they don't have to. Thomas sees Aldo grieve, really grieve, not campaign like Joshua and Joe do, right from their first scene together. He sees the weight behind the precision, the tenderness buried under protocol.

And Vincent? Vincent comes in sharp, arrogant, even. He calls Aldo out, brazenly on his bullshit, during their first encounter. But later, he admits to Lomeli that Aldo was indeed right. He reflects. He evolves. He admits coming to Rome might have been a mistake and sees his return home might truly not be possible. That’s the thing, they all shift. They challenge each other, bruise each other, but also grow toward each other. And that’s what makes it worth watching, and rewatching, reading, and rereading.

Thomas was able to vote for himself to stop Tedesco, something Aldo couldn't even while having so many more viable reasons for it, he’s in check with himself, he’s self-aware enough to admit his failings, in real time, within days too, while Thomas is still breaking down over it and having crashouts, which also, fair.

Aldo has ambitions, sure. But he’s not a villain. He’s a resigned man. He’s tired.

I think Thomas’s and Aldo’s arcs are inverse reflections.

Thomas lost faith in God, but not in the Church, and that’s killing him, he was popular enough to be elected dean and yet he is forgotten, called as the last (out of Tremblay's ambition but he doesn't know that) because he treats the institution like a 9-to-5 job, even as it breaks him.

Aldo, on the other hand, has lost faith in the Church, and shares this with Thomas, shares it in a way that hopes Thomas will take it to heart, via pope's own doubts, having lost faith in the church, but not in God. So he tries to follow the teachings, tries to love his brothers, wants to believe that God will choose the right man.

And perhaps that is the holiest thing about him, that he knew, deeply, he should not be pope, and still nearly let himself become one.

He want to believe that the Spirit still moves, and once it happens he's not blind to see it, he just doesn't have the courage to believe it may for once work in their favour.

They both need Vincent, not just to restore faith, but to bridge what they’ve lost in each other, and they need to talk. Which they do, throughout the film, in every glance, every quiet consultation. That’s why they seek each other’s gaze in every room. That’s why they’re friends. That’s why the dynamic is so compelling. The film cut so many important scenes between them, scenes with Aldo and Vincent too, and still it did them justice. That’s what frustrates me. There was so much more to tell. But what we have is enough and people are still mistranslating it so poorly.

And another thing, my hc, Aldo must be incredibly good at chess. Who else sees eight moves ahead, watches his opponent play them out, and lets himself lose? It’s like that with Vincent. Aldo saw the late pope’s endgame. He tried, briefly, to stop it. But he never told Thomas what to do expressively, while he probably had that power to change his friend's mind he did not do so, trying to protect him but still letting him choose his own faith. He just gave his opinion, and then stood back and let the eight moves play out. Because maybe, just maybe, letting it all fall apart one more time was the only way to preserve what mattered, even if it cost him.

I used to think the pope’s machinations were designed to replace Aldo. That somewhere along the way, he got spooked, maybe paranoid, disappointed, and realized that his chosen heir wasn’t the right fit after all. That Aldo, for all his loyalty and brilliance, was too entangled, too compromised, too close to the fire to get burnt. And then he got to meet Vincent, bright, principled, untouched by curial rot, doubting himself but never God... Brave in ways Aldo no longer could be or was even forced not to be by the pope himself... And maybe the pope thought, this is the man who could carry it forward cleanly. So he let his mentee fall.

But now… I’m not so sure.

Maybe it wasn’t about replacing Aldo at all. Maybe it was about freeing them both. Maybe the pope looked at the two of them, at Aldo, crumbling beneath the weight of service, and at Thomas, burning out in quiet despair of not being comfortable with himself and his role, and thought, no more of this. Maybe he wanted them to live without that isolation, without the martyrdom, side by side, as equals. Not one on the throne and the other in the shadows, not one sentenced to solitude and the other left behind to wither.

This way, they can still serve. Still carry the legacy. But share the burden. Fifty-fifty. For the Church. For God. For each other. For Vincent...

#aldo bellini #conclave 2024

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