"CONCLAVE" (2024)

A large, modern apartment block in a modest part of the city. The streets are quiet. Everyone sleeps.

CLOSE on a WINDOW PANE, small, leaded. We HOLD on the glass, nothing but black night outside, not sure what we’re supposed to be looking at.

Then, with a sharp ping, the pane cracks.

ON A SLEEPING MAN, his back to us. Woken by the sound, the man raises his head from the pillow, stares at the cracked pane.

Silence.

The sudden jangle of a phone in the room. The man turns his head to stare at the phone.

CLOSE - PUSHING the MAN as he walks quickly through a tunnel, his sleep-whorled hair standing in undignified tufts from the back of his head. A lone car passes.

The MAN continues to rush through the empty streets. The only sound is his heavy breathing and footsteps. Ahe ad of him a blue light pulses in SOFT FOCUS against the vague bulk of St Peter’s.

Outside on the street the MAN passes a SHOP WINDOW and for a moment we hold on the display - rows of PLASTIC PIETÀS.

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In the lift the MAN - CARDINAL LAWRENCE - stares down at his hand and realises he is clutching his red zucchetto. We are still on his back as he smoothes down his hair and puts it on his head. Then he turns to the mirror and we see his face for the first time: careworn, anonymous. An administrator.

Lawrence glances at his ashen reflection in the mirrored walls, looks away. The elevator arrives. Lawrence raises his chin, prepares his public face. The doors slide open to reveal a solid wall of MEN IN BLACK SUITS.

The wall of SECURITY parts with difficulty and he makes his way through them towards the Papal Suite. White marbled floors. It could be a hotel, a clinic.

ARCHBISHOP WOZNIAK, built like a labourer, eyes, behind his glasses, red from crying, comes to meet him.

Lawrence takes his cheeks in his hand.

Ahead of them a BODYGUARD steps aside and Lawrence walks on into...

Lawrence stops, surprised by the throng of people crowd ed into the little living room. He realises with a faint stab of pain, that he must have been one of the last summoned. He follows Wozniak through the open doors into...

The room is almost shockingly plain - a chest of drawers, nightstand, an anonymous bed that could be found in any hotel. And lying on this bed, slightly propped up on pillows, lies the dead Pope.

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Kneeling around the bed are the three other senior cardinals of the Catholic Church: ALDO BELLINI, JOSEPH TREMBLAY, JOSHUA ADEYEMI.

The room is so small he has to step over the backs of their legs to reach the head of the bed.

He stares down at the Pope, the expression of almost wry amusement on the dead man’s face.

Lawrence realises they have been waiting for him to b egin the liturgy and hurriedly kneels, joints creaking. He glances back at the sitting room beyond. Everyone is kneeling, head bowed. He buries his face in his hands as the Nigerian cardinal’s deep voice reverberates in the tiny room.

As the prayer continues Lawrence half-opens his eyes. His gaze wanders around the scene before him, as if still trying to comprehend what has happened...

...the folded spectacles on the bedside table, the scuffed alarm clock beside them, the simple crucifix above the bed...

A heart-breaking detail: the wooden rim of the headboard is cracked, the padded panel within, fraying...

Finally the familiar face, strangely naked without the customary spectacles...

He realises Adeyemi has finished. The Cardinals recite the chorus.

For a few moments the room is completely still. Then...

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The Canadian Tremblay, Carmerlengo or Chamberlain - silver hair immaculately coiffed, the trim build of a retired athlete - stretches out his arms as if in blessing. Two ASSISTANTS hurry forward and help him up. Lawrence rises creakily to his feet with the other Cardinals.

Wozniak edges around the bed and, sweating with embarrassment, struggles to pull a RING from the Pope’s hand. Finally he works it free and presents it to Tremblay who produces a pair of shears from a silver box. Grimacing with effort he cuts free the metal disc of St Peter from the ring. The snap is audible in the silent room.

Groups of dignitaries stand in whispered conference. Lawrence gingerly works his way through the throng to a lone figure standing by the desk: the lean, ascetic frame of his friend, Cardinal Bellini, Secretary of State.

Bellini is staring down at a little plastic travel CHESS SET on the desk - almost the only personal item in the bland room. He brushes the pieces, grouped mid-game, with a finger.

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His eyes suddenly fill with tears. Moved, Lawrence takes his arm.

Lawrence blinks in surprise.

Lawrence is trying not to show his hurt at being excluded. Bellini mistakes his silence for puzzlement.

Lawrence nods, rouses himself to action. Tremblay, across the room, is watching.

Lawrence and Bellini find Wozniak sitting alone in the dark. Lawren ce addresses him gently.

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Wozniak shrugs helplessly. Tremblay arriv es just in time at the door.

He draws a document from his cassock. Belli ni sits down next to Wozniak.

Lawrence examines it. He suddenly feels the bulk of Adeyemi, Cardinal Major Penitentiary or confessor-in-chief - at his shoulder. Tremblay passes them more sheets.

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Lawrence is holding the x-ray to the light, staring in silence, struck that he is looking at the very heart of the man he revered.

Lawrence and Bellini share a look - a flinch of distress.

Tremblay inclines his head sympathetically.

Adeyemi is still scanning the time-line.

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Silence. A slight tension. Adeyemi is the youngest here. The contest has begun. Lawrence breaks the awkward silence.

Bellini straightens and for the first time we see that beneath the grief there is a well of anger.

Lawrence st eps through the open door of the SMALL OFFICE and dials the desk phone.

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Italian, To Operator) (To Operator) < The Patriarch’s Palace in Il Palazzo Patriarcale di Venice, please. Cardinal Venezia, per favore. La linea Tedesco’s private line. > privata del cardinale

Tedesco.

After a moment.

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LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Italian) Goffredo? Sono Lawrence. < Goffredo? It’s Lawrence. Purtroppo devo comunicarvi I’m afraid I have terrible una terribile notizia. Il news. The Holy Father has Santo Padre è appena just passed away.> deceduto.

Lawrence listens to the phone. Silence. The sound of movement, a door closing?

He hangs up. The others watch from the doorway.

Tremblay takes out what appears to be a small leather bound prayer book - but turns out to be a mobile phone.

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Lawrence jumps slightly as Adeyemi addresses him.

Lawrence looks up and finds the others staring at him. The dawning realisation of what lies ahead.

Lawrence stands, watching WOZNIAK laying a t hin white VEIL over the dead Pope’s face. He turns to the PRIESTS of the Apostolic Camera, standing waiting.

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Italian) Sigillate la stanza. < Seal the room. >

13 TITLES BEGIN 13

The Pope’s body is zipped into a a semi-transparent white body bag and heaved onto a gurney. Lawrence watches as it is being wheeled out into the corridor.

The sealing of the suite begins. The door is locked. Red tap e is fixed on the frame. Wozniak is looking on.

Lawrence stands in the lift. From his place at the bottom of the gurney, he stares fixedly down at the feet of the Pope, ghostly through the white plastic, curled like small foetuses.

The elevator pings and the doors slide open...

The gurney with the dead Pope is wheeled through the UNDERGROUND GARAGE, past a puddle of oil...a crushed cigarette pack...

T he only sound is the faint squeal of the wheels, and, the forbidden click of phone cameras...

The sealing of the door continues - the tape criss-crossing backwards and forwards, as if this was a crime-scene...

Wax seals bearing the coat of arms of the Cardinal Camerlengo fix the tape ends to the frame....

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Outside the body is loaded into the waiting ambulance....

The final wax seal is put in place...

...as the ambulance drives off, the dead Pope in the body bag inside.

TITLE CARD: THREE WEEKS LATER. SUNDAY, 7TH NOVEMBER, EVE OF CONCLAVE.

WORKMEN are fitting electronic SHUTTERS over the windo ws. The whine of power tools as screws are tightened into place.

Inside the Casa a WORKMAN tests the closing of the shutters with a remote control. It works.

More Workmen emerge from the bedrooms, each trundling a dolly loaded with the TELEVISIONS being removed from the rooms.

Above him, metal panels are being fitted over the high windows, shutting out the daylight, obscuring the ceiling in near gloom.

Lawrence stands in the chapel, watching the sealing of the windows unhappily.

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All around him there is teeming activity. Behind him WORKMEN hurriedly finish laying the temporary wooden floor. At the other end of the chapel carpet is being rolled over the wood, followed by the thunk of a nail gun.

ARCHBISHOP MANDORFF, Master of Papal Liturgical Celebrations, (60’s, German), stands beside him, clipboard in hand.

Lawrence stares around him at the chaos.

Lawrence nods, pats the German’s arm.

He walks to one of the long tables along the length of the chapel. On it Monsignor O’ Malley and some assistants are setting up Bible, prayer book, pens and pencils, a ballot paper and long list of names of the 107 cardinals eligible to vote for the next Pope.

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MONSIGNOR O'MALLEY, Secretary of the College of Cardinals, (Irish, 40’s) joins them.

He examines the list of names.

He sits, testing the cushion, wondering if it will offer comfort for the elderly men who will soon be using them.

Lawrence stands again, prods the cushion.

Lawrence frowns at him.

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He starts to leave. Lawrence considers.

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O’Malley nods and leaves.

He holds out a hand for Mandorff to help him stand.

A DRILL starts nearby, the sound deafening in the chapel. Lawrence winces, feels a headache coming on.

Behind the altar of the chapel Lawrence descends a set of stairs. He crosses a narrow sacristy to descend into a small room.

Lawrence closes the door, muffling the sound of the work beyond. He stands for a moment, savouring the relative pe ace. He finds himself staring at the THRONE, on which the newly- elected Pontiff will sit. He crosses to a clothes rail and brushes a hand along the row of cellophane wrapped papal cassocks.

The door opens and Bellini slips in, closing the door behind him.

Lawrence smiles, examines one of the cassocks.

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He picks up a pair of shoes, slip-ons in red leather.

To his surprise he finds himself continuing....

He stares at the shoes to avoid Bellini’s gaze.

He gives Bellini a crooked, painful smile.

Bellini hesitates. Then...

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Lawrence feels shocked, obscurely betrayed.

The two friends stare at each other.

A group of NUNS, wearing blue habit, sit on a minibus, the walls of the Vatican outside the window. In their midst a woman with an arist ocratic air - SISTER AGNES.

As the buses park inside the Vatican the NUNS descend and walk up to the Casa.

The line of NUNS are entering the building.

Sister Agnes arrives in her office. She puts down her bag and takes off her coat, glances at the plan for the day. In the corner a canary in a cage. Sister Agnes walks over and feeds it.

Lawrence stands, wrapped in a winter coat against the cold, on the steps of the Casa, staring up at the sky. He is flanked again by O’Malley and Mandorff, other members of staff hovering beside them. For a moment LAWRENCE listens to the faint sound of thousands of voices outside on the streets, drums echoing.

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He’s talking about the group of cardinals who are now passing the gate into the courtyard, crossing towards him. They are accompanied by two Security Guards, and the clatter of their wheeled suitcases. As they approach Lawrence opens his arms.

CARDINAL MENDOZA shows Lawrence his sleeve.

Mendoza nods grimly and walks on.

In MONTAGE we see further arrivals: The Africans led by the magisterial Adeyemi, pointing out this building and that to his party, like a proprietor. From the Eastern Ministries, the Archbishops of Lebanon and Antioch. From India the Archbishops of Trivandrum, Ernakulam-Angamaly and...

Lawrence shakes his hand in the staircase.

Back in the courtyard Tremblay arrives at the same time as the ove r-weight CARDINAL GUTTOSO. He has his choir dress in a dry-cleaning bag slung over his shoulder, a Nike sports bag swinging in the other. He raises both hands to indicate he cannot shake.

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Guttoso, in contrast has an assistant struggling behind him with his three, huge cases. As he waddles past Lawrence and Tremblay exchange a look.

THE SKY -- the drone of a helicopter, either security or media, hidden from our sight by the low cloud cover.

He notices Bellini striding towards them and descends the steps to greet his friend.

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Bellini looks past him, his expression hardening.

He walks towards the Casa Santa Marta as Lawrence turns to face the newcomer: TEDESCO, the Patriarch of Venice. He looks like a retired butcher, broken-nosed, the physique of a bull.

TEDESCO TEDESCO

< Apologies, Lawr ence. My Chiedo scusa, Lawrence. Il train was delayed in Venice.> mio treno era in ritardo a

Venezia.

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Italian) Padre Tedesco. Ci siete < Father Tedesco. We’ve mancato. missed you. >

Tedesco laughs.

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TEDESCO TEDESCO

(Italian) Non c'è dubbio. Ma non < No doubt. But don’t worry, preoccupatevi, i miei amici - my friends have kept me well how do you say - mi hanno informed. > tenuto ben informato.

Lawrence, refusing to be goaded, keeps his smile in place.

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Italian) State bene? < Are you well? >

TEDESCO TEDESCO

(Italian) Ah, no-one is ever well at < Ah, no-one is ever well at our age. Come vi trovate con our age. How have you found le vostre nuove your new responsibilitie s? responsabilità? Avete tutto You have everything under sotto controllo? control? >

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

< I believe so. > Credo di sì.

TEDESCO TEDESCO

< Good. > Bene. (To a waiting assistant) (a un assistente) < Stop hovering. I carry my Smettetela di stare in own bag. > agguato. La porto io la mia

borsa.

Lawrence watches him stump on to the entrance. He offers up a quiet prayer.

From above the drone of the helicopter is heard again.

The NUNS glide silently around the rooms. Beds are turned down, pillows smoothed.

Little packets of toiletries are placed by the NUNS.

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The surreal sight of cardinals handing in their mobile phones at reception, queueing to pass through a METAL DETECTOR. Sister Agnes watches over the process.

SISTER AGNES SISTER AGNES

(Italian) Anche l'iPad, Eminenza. < The iPad too, your Eminence. >

A NUN is placing the confiscated MOBILE PHONES and devices into dockets, each in a labelled plastic bag.

Lawrence walks quickly with Monsignor O’Malley, both trailed by the young chaplain, FATHER HAAS.

O’MALLEY The meeting room, Your Eminence.

LAWRENCE * LAWRENCE

(handing coat and scarf Me li porta di sopra, per to Haas; Italian) favore? Will you take these upstairs for me?

O’MALLEY Do you w ant me to sit in?

He opens the door to the room and finds Wozniak with his back to him at the far end of the room, staring at the wall.

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Wozniak turns, looking ashen. He’s been drinking. He sinks to his knees, makes the sign of the cross.

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Lawrence walks to him, a little irritated.

Wozniak sinks into a chair. Wipes sweat from his face with trembling hands. Lawrence examines him in surprise.

Wozniak looks at him, wretched. Lawrence sighs inwardly.

Lawrence feels an instinctive stab of alarm, his natural aversion to secrets. Almost without realising it, he is drifting back towards the door.

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That stops Lawrence in his tracks.

Lawrence stares at him. He starts to speak, stops, dimly aware that he feels anger - anger at being burdened with this.

Lawrence stares at him, staggered.

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It’s said with such obvious sincerity, such misery, that Lawrence feels ashamed of his anger. He sits.

Lawrence feels a brief flare of hope that he could be lying, but dismisses it quickly.

Lawrence stands, pained, one word in his mind. Scandal.

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Only the ground floor is now lit, like an aquarium. Lawrence stands at the entrance in the green light, watching Wozniak as he walks away. Wozniak raises a hand in awkward farewell then walks on, as shutters rattle their way down over the windows, shutting out the world. A SECURITY GUARD closes and locks the main door.

It is beginning.

The kitchen is crowded with NUNS busy preparing the evening meal for the 107 cardinals. Despite their number, the atmosphere is hushed, each focussed on her task.

The NUNS are laying the tables for the evening meal.

SISTER AGNES inspects the placement of the silverware, correcting it with military precision.

Lawrence is walking up the stairs, eager to get to his room. Behind him O’Malley calls out from reception.

MONSIGNOR O’MALLEY Your Eminence...

O’Malley hurries over. The usually cheerful Irishman looks disconcerted. He hesitates.

MONSIGNOR O’MALLEY What?

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Lawrence stares at him. The day is turning into a nightmare. O’Malley leads him up the staircase.

O’Malley guides him up the stairs towards Mandorff who stands with two NUNS. They take in his expression and quickly glide away.

Lawre nce almost double-takes.

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He feels the nervous gazes of the others on him and gets control of himself.

O’Malley hurries off.

Lawrence sighs.

We’re looking at a slim man dressed in a somewhat shabby plain black attire with no skull cap. This is BENITEZ. He sits on a plastic chair, rosary in hand.

Lawrence, Bellini, Mandorff and O’Malley watch him through the glass wall of the room.

Lawrence gestures to the LETTER he’s holding.

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He moves to enter the office but Bellini takes his arm. He stops, turns to Bellini, who seems as surprised as him at his intervention. For a moment the Italian con tinues to stare at the newcomer. It’s as if there’s something about Benitez that Bellini finds obscurely troubling. Then...

Lawrence stares at him, thinking back to Wozniak’s words, tempted by the explanation of mental confusion... Bellini misreads the silence as disapproval.

Benitez stands as LAWRENCE and Bellini walk in.

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Benitez smoothes a lock of dark hair back from his rather boyish face.

Bellini looks between the two men - isn’t it obvious?

Bellini tilts a head, as if to say - charming but naive.

Bellini opens his mouth and closes it again. Lawrence examines the fragile looking man, reevaluating. He’s tougher than he looks.

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O’Malley pops his head in.

Looking suddenly exhausted, Benitez follows O’Malley out of the office. Lawrence glances at Bellini, a little puzzled by his friend’s faint hostility. Bellini shrugs, as if a little puzzled himself.

Lawrence walks down the corridor to his room and finds Adeyemi approaching from the other end. He raises a hand in g reeting. Both stop at the mid-point of the corridor.

They stand smiling, slightly awkwardly, key cards in hand.

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He chuckles at his own joke.

They nod to each other and both go into their rooms.

Lawrence sits, back to us, hunched over the small de sk, staring at the shuttered window in front of him, lost in thought.

From the next room, through the thin walls, he hears the sound of coughing, a toilet flushing...

He stirs, picks up his pen and resumes work on his sermon.

CLOSE ON LAWRENCE - staring at us.

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Italian) I nostri ultimi Papi sono < Our recent Popes have all stati tutti instancabili been tireless promoters of promotori di pace e peace and co-oper ation at the cooperazione a livello international level. Let us internazionale. Preghiamo che pray that the future Pope il futuro Papa continui will continue this ceaseless questa incessante opera di work of charity and love... > carità e amore...

We realise Lawrence is practicing his sermon in his BATHROOM, before the m irror.

He stops, feels a twinge of contempt for its bland tone.

He puts the sermon aside, examines the cheap little plastic wrapped package of razor, tooth brush and toothpaste, fumbles with it for a moment.

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He finally rips it open and its contents fall to the floor. Lawrence sighs, examines his reflection again for a moment.

...LARGE ROOM running down one side of the lobby. White marble floors, tables set for dinner, the din of conversation from the assembled cardinals. It could be a business convention.

Her gaze lands on the Americans seated at one table, talking loudly. Tremblay in the middle, joking and laughing with them.

Lawrence takes a knife and glass and raps it for attention. The room gradually falls silent except for Cardinal KRASINSKI, the arch-conservative Archbishop Emeritus of Chicago who continues speaking loudly until he is hushed by his neighbours, and adjusts his hearing-aid, resulting in an electronic howl that causes them to wince.

Benitez standing alone, apart.

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A general sense of mystification from his audience. He begins to applaud and for a painful moment he is the only one clapping. Gradually the others join in.

Benitez looks alarmed at the prospect but nods. The cardinals lower their heads, eyes closed.

Several of the cardinals begin to make the sign of the cross, presuming this is the end.

preparado esta comida. Por * Cristo Nuestro Señor, Amén.

A rumble of Amens and the Sisters begin to serve the meal. Lawrence leads Benitez over to a table with Asian cardinals then heads on himself towards Bellini.

TEDESCO TEDESCO

(Italian) Decano! < Dean! >

With dismay Lawrence finds himself beside the Patriarch of Venice’s table. Tedesco indicates an empty seat.

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Lawrence reluctantly sits and accepts the glass. Tedesco observes him as he continues to eat with gusto.

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LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Italian) Sì. < I did. >

He looks around the dining room.

Tedesco grunts in amusement as he eats.

TEDESCO TEDESCO

(Italian) Guardate bene. Notate come * < Look again. Notice how tutti hanno gravitato intorno everyone has gravitated to ai loro connazionali. Noi their fellow countrymen. i taliani di qua... gli Italians over here... Spanish spagnoli di là... gli inglesi speakers ther e...English di là... ‘divided by * there... Divided by language. language’. Quando eravamo When we were boys and the ragazzi e la Messa tridentina Tridentine Mass was still the era ancora la liturgia del liturgy of the world - we mondo, avremmo parlato tutti would all have been speaking latino. Ma poi i vostri Latin. But then your fellow colleghi liberali hanno liberals insisted we get rid insistito perché ci of that “dead” language. You liberassimo di quella lingua say “Universal” Church, but "morta". Lei dice “universal * we have become a church”, ma semmai siamo * confederation at best. > diventati una confederazione.

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Tedesco’s fellow traditionalists at the table are staring stonily at Lawrence, as if holding him personally responsible.

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TEDESCO TEDESCO

(Italian) Sono più di quarant'anni che < We haven’t had an Italian non abbiamo un Papa italiano. Pope for more than forty Può seriamente immaginare years. Can you seriously l’alternativa? Abyssus * imagine the alternative? > abyssum invocat.

His gaze slides to the table of African cardinals, Adeyemi in the middle. This is too much.

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Italian) Scusatemi, devo fare il giro < Excuse me. I must circulate tra i nostri Confratelli. amongst our colleagues. >

He stands, bows his head to the circle of hostile faces and walks off.

Lawrence sits with Bellini and his circle of liberal supporters, having a coffee after their meal.

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Sabbadin rocks his head from side to side, appraising.

Bellini looks pained as Sabbadin studies him in the same thoughtful way.

He is interrupted as the door opens and a Sister comes to pick up a tray of empty coffee cups. The men sit in uncomfortable silence until the nun has moved on.

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Sabbadin winces, sucks his teeth.

He stands up and leaves. Sabbadin sighs, polishes his glasses.

Lawrence watches Bellini walk away, feeling a stab of pity for him.

Lawrence ponders on this.

Darkness. Silence.

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Then a door opens, a switch is flicked and Tremblay’s room glares into light. It’s a suite, like the Pope’s.

Lawrence hesitates, but the sooner he gets this over with the sooner they can put it behind them.

Lawrence hesitates again.

Tremblay looks genuinely shocked.

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Tremblay shakes his head, walks to the coffee machine.

Lawrence nods. Tremblay shakes his head again, raises a baffled hand. He collects his coffee, stares at it.

He hesitates, embarrassed.

Tremblay looks up at him, a little guiltily.

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He waves a hand again, embarrassed.

He finishes his espresso. Lawrence is desperate for this to be over.

They head for the door. Then to his own surprise, Lawrence says...

Tremblay blinks. When he answers his manner is a little cooler - as if the insult of the accusation has just caught up with him.

Beat. Then Lawrence inclines his head.

Tremblay open s the door in silence, waits for Lawrence to step out the room then switches off the brilliant lights, closes the door plunging us into darkness.

We HOLD in the black...

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Lawrence wakes suddenly. From the next room comes the sound of stentorian snoring. He tries to screen it out. But sleep seems impossible now. He sits up in bed.

Lawrence walks on the treadmill, the only figure in the large room. He stares at his reflection in the mirrored wall as he speed walks, listening to the h ypnotic thrum, thrum of the treadmill.

TITLE CARD: FIRST DAY OF CONCLAVE

HIGH ANGLE - from the top of the balcony. The courtyard below is a sea of red: cardinals robed for the coming service.

Lawrence stands staring down at them, an air of trepidation behind the eyes. Below a single nun in blue is lost among the red.

Behind him Father Haas has appeared in the hall. Lawrence blinks out of his thoughts.

Haas is robing Lawrence, fussing around like a tailor, adjusting the heavy red chasuble. He places the tall, white mitre on Lawrence’s head, stands back to survey its angle critically. He hands Lawrence the crozier - a golden Shepherd’s crook.

We hear the chanting of the Gospel of St John...

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A bare space. Lawrence looks out at the rows of the congregation that have been crammed into the room: the red of the cardinals, purple of the Bishops, white of the Priests... They sit and stand in front of him.

Lawrence sits, clutching the sermon in his lap, hiding the turmoil going on inside him. His gaze flits across the ranks of cardinals, finding the main co ntenders: Adeyemi, Bellini, Tremblay and finally Tedesco. Haas appears in front of him and removes the mitre, catches something in the Dean’s expression as he does so.

The choir comes to an end.

ON THE MICROPHONE - as Lawrence steps in front of it. For a moment he stares out over the room of faces. He stares down at the pages of h omily. The moment hangs until there’s a faint stirring of unease. Finally...

A murmur of approval from the congregation.

He looks out at his audience, his gaze once more falling on Tedesco watching him with a faint complacent smile.

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He turns the page, scans the text, and the next page... platitudes, platitudes...

Suddenly he puts the sermon aside. For the first time in days he feels calm.

There is some surprised laughter.

Now there’s a definite stirring of alarm amongst the cardinals.

The room is entirely still now...

INTERCUT WITH:

... whilst right outside the door SISTER AGNES and a few of her nuns are silently listening to Lawrence’s speech.

Lawrence switches into Italian.

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He looks out over the cardinals and sees they are unified by a single emotion. Shock.

Lawrence is led by Haas and some ASSISTANTS through the courtyard, crowded with cardinals. Lawrence feels their eyes upon him.

Lawrence stands being disrobed by Haas and the Assistants. None of the younger men can look Lawrence in the face. O’Malley arrives holding the discarded sermon.

Lawrence examines the usually ebullient Irishman and realises even he is avoiding his gaze.

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Haas lifts the chasuble over his head, and LAWRENCE rotates his stiff neck, relieved to be free of the weight.

MONSIGNOR O’MALLEY I’ll have a transcript made of the text from the tape, Em inence. If there’s nothing else...

Lawrence hesitates, as O’Malley turns to go. Then...

MONSIGNOR O’MALLEY (Surprised) Today? I...I could try, your Eminence?

MONSIGN OR O’MALLEY What...happened?

Lawrence takes a deep breath, and...

O’Malley gapes at him, recovers himself.

MONSIGNOR O’MALLEY Of course, Eminence.

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Lawrence is heading for the lift when...

Lawrence turns to find Tedesco advancing on him, drawing the attention of the crowded lobby.

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Lawrence continues to the lift, determined to avoid a public argument.

Lawrence presses for the lift and the doors glide open.

He steps into the lift before Tedesco can reply.

Lawrence, a little pleased with his retort, is about to press the button for his floor when he su ddenly pats his pockets. He closes his eyes.

Lawrence emerges from the lift again, to the surprise of Tedesco and the other cardinals. Aware he’s just ruined his exit, he walks back to the RECEPTION DESK, trying to look unconcerned.

SISTER AGNES examines him sternly from behind the desk.

She reaches under the counter and hands him a KEY CARD.

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Lawrence nods, feeling like a scolded child. Sister Agnes walks into the back office. Lawrence turns to find Bellini standing beside him. His friend gives an awful smile.

It takes Lawrence a moment to realise there is anger in Bellini’s voice.

He’s gone before Lawrence can think of a reply.

The cardinals are boarding a fleet of white minibuses as it begins to rain.

Lawrence waits to board, still thinking of Bellini’s words. We hear an organ playing, a choir singing Veni Creator Spiritus...

As the music continues we find Lawrence sitting alone, biretta on his lap, staring out the rain-smeared windows to the security men patrolling the Vatican grounds beyond. The cardinals all around him are silent, the mood on the bus is sombre, the moment of responsibility has come.

A narrow strip of grey sky above the parked buses. Security for ces linger about, smoking and chatting. The bus driver eats a sandwich.

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A security guard scrolls through his phone, standing on the marble staircase. We hear the cardinals taking their oath.

JUNIOR CARDINAL-DEACON JUNIOR CARDINAL-DEACON

The last of the cardinals stand taking the oath. The others have now taken their seats at the rows of desks filling the room.

CARDINAL BROTZKUS CARDINAL BROTZKUS

(In Latin) ...Et ego Romualdus < ...I Romuald Cardinal Cardinalis Brotzkus spondeo, Brotzkus do so promise, voveo ac iuro... pledge and swear... >

Lawrence finds himself staring up at Michelangelo’s The Last Judgement. One of the Damned clutches a hand to his face as demons drag him down...

Lawrence blinks as Mandorff steps up to the microphone that has been placed before the west wall of the chamber.

The television lights are switched off plunging the chamber into relative gloom. Mandorff makes his way to the vestibule as priests, officials, choristers, securit y men, cameramen, photographer and the commandant of the Swiss Guard leave the chapel. The three scrutineers, CARDINALS LUKSA, MERCURIO and LOMBARDI, take their place at a table in front of the altar.

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Lawrence catches Adeyemi’s eye. Cardinal Tedesco glances at Bellini who looks at Tremblay across from him.

In the vestibule Mandorff passes through the huge doors...

...to close them after him.

We hear the sound of a key turning. The great bell of St Peter’s begins tolling five o’clock.

The Conclave has begun .

LAWRENCE walks to the microphone.

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

< Cardinal brothers, we will Fratelli Cardinali, procederà now proceed to the first ora al primo scrutinio. ballot. > (Holding up a paper (Holding up a ballot ballot) paper) Troverete davanti a voi la < You will find in front of vostra scheda elettorale. you your ballot paper. On the Sulla metà superiore è top half is written... > scritto... (Glancing ironically at (Glancing Ironically at Tedesco) Tedesco) < Eligo in Summum Pontificem. Eligo in Summum Pontificem. “I elect as Supreme Pontiff”. ”Eleggo Sommo Pontefice”. Beneath this you must write Sotto di essa dovete scrivere the name of your chosen il nome del candidato che candidate. Please make sure avete scelto. Assicuratevi your hand-writ ing is che la vostra calligrafia sia legible.> leggibile.

La wrence returns to his seat and picks up his own ballot paper. He shields the paper with his arm and writes BELLINI, folds it and walks back to the altar. He holds it above his head.

Under the gaze of the three cardinals he places his ballot in the large urn on the altar.

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He returns to his seat, his eyes straying to where Bellini sits, apparently sunk in meditation. One by one the cardinals begin to rise and vote, ballots held above their heads...

The three Scrutineers sit at the table in front of the altar, counting the votes from the urn. Luksa unfolds a ballot, notes the name, passes it to Lombardi who also records the result an d passes it to Mercurio who pierces the vote through the word elect and threads it onto a length of scarlet silk cord.

CARDINAL LOMBARDI CARDINAL LOMBARDI

(Italian) Il primo voto è per il < The first vote is cast for Cardinale Tedesco. Cardinal Tedesco. >

Lawrence doesn’t react, just makes a tick next to Tedesco’s name on his list of cardinals. Lombardi reads the next ballot.

Again. Lombardi records the next ballot.

Lawrence ticks the name...

...and again...

Lawrence looks up, startled. He finds Bellini watching him.

Lawrence focuses on his list again, hurriedly ticking the names...

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CLOSE on the URN - now almost empty of ballots. Luksa’s hand reaches in.

Lawrence is hurriedly adding up the votes in pencil beside his list.

CARDINAL LOMBARDI CARDINAL LOMBARDI

< Cardinal Bellini. > Cardinale Bellini. (Italian, Receiving the (Italian, Receiving the next ballot) next ballot) < Cardinal Tremblay. > Cardinale Tremblay. (Beat) (Beat) < Cardinal Adeyemi. > Car dinale Adeyemi.

Lawrence scribbles away...

Again, Lawrence looks up in surprise. Benitez himself has raised his head in shock. Whispered conversations break out around the chamber. The three Scrutineers confer briefly then Lombardi leans into the microphone again.

Lawrence flinches, dismayed at this.

The hum of conversation grows louder as Lawrence stands and walks to the microphone.

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LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Raising his voice over (Raising his voice above the hubbub ) the hubbub) < My brother cardinals... my Fratelli cardinali. .. brother cardinals, that fratelli cardinali, con concludes the first ballot. questo si conclude il primo No candidate having achieved scrutinio. Poiché nessun the necessary majority of candidato ha ottenuto la seventy-two votes, we shall maggioranza necessaria di adjourn for the evening and settantadue voti, per la resume voting in the morning. serata la seduta è aggiornata I now invite the Junior e riprenderemo le votazioni Cardinal-Deacon to ask for us domattina. Ora invito to be released. > l’ultimo cardinale diacono a

dire che ci vengano ad aprire.

His gaze flits to Bellini, who sits, staring into nothing. Guerrini walks to the back of the chapel and k nocks on the doors.

Archbishop Mandorff waits outside the Sistine Chapel. He now unlocks the doors and they begin to swing open...

Monsignor O’Malley squats by the stove, their chimneys rising to a window high above. He bundles inside the threaded ballo t papers. He ignites them with a fire-lighter, closes the door as they begin to blaze. He turns to the second stove and presses a switch.

INSIDE THE STOVE - the canister of potassium perchlorate, anthracene and sulphur activates with a whoosh...

The temporary metal chimney jutting out above the roof of the chapel begins t o gush jet-black smoke, illuminated by a search-light. The smoke streams up to the winter sky and the waiting world. A dull roar swells and fades. It takes us a moment to realise it’s the response of the vast crowd gathered outside.

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As the dull roar continues to resound from outside rooms inside the Vatican lie still and empty in the late afternoon light. The canary listens in his cage.

Lawrence and O’Malley hurry through the hall.

Lawrence glances back at the SECURITY MAN who follows them at a discrete di stance.

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The two men descend the stairs, dwarfed by the vast sweep of white marble. Another SECURITY MAN waits below them.

Lawrence nods, wonders why he does not feel any relief.

They pass the SECURITY GUARD who turns and wh ispers into his sleeve. When they are safely past, O’Malley hesitates. Then...

Lawrence stares at him as they walk on.

They walk on towards the Cortile del Maresciallo and the waiting minibuses.

Lawrence is last on the bus and the only seat still available is at the front, near Sabbadin.

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Reluctantly Lawrence sits down across the aisle from him. For a moment the two sit in silence, Sabbadin staring out of the window. Then...

Sabbadin nods, mollified.

Uncomfortable, Lawrence glances at the driver’s face in the rear-view mirror, trying to gauge if he has been listening.

The cardinals stand around in cliques, sipping wine before the evening meal. Adeyemi, as the front runner, seems to have gathered the largest crowd.

Alone, Lawre nce is watching Benitez talking to the cardinals from Asia and Oceania. Cardinal Mendoza arrives beside him, follows his gaze.

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Lawrence sighs, turns to find Tedesco and Tremblay beside him, also surveying the room.

Tedesco chuckles, continuing in Italian.

He pats Lawrence's shoulder and walks off.

Tremblay smiles, nods.

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He gives a short laugh.

He laughs again, as if at the absurdity of the suggestion.

He walks away.

Lawrence and O’Malley walk towards the vast bronze entrance to the palace, past s aluting Swiss Guards.

The two walk in silence up the deserted staircase of what would traditionally be the Papal Apartments.

They cross a big room and walk into...

Lawrence stands at a filing cabinet, looking through the folders of documents inside. He checks the final folder, clos es the drawer, unsure whether he feels relieved or disappointed. O’Malley watches. A beat.

MONSIGNOR O’MALLEY (Tentatively) I could try and speak to Monsignor Morales again? See if I could find out any more?

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He locks the filing cabinet.

The two are walking back towards the Casa Santa Marta. Lawrence spots Benitez standing by a FOUNTAIN staring into the water.

He walks down a flight of stairs to app roach Benitez who is gazing into a pool with swimming TURTLES.

Benitez looks up with delight.

Lawrence and Benitez walk back towards the Casa.

Benitez seems to tense a little at the question.

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He struggles to think of a suitable term, then finds himself, to his own surprise, continuing...

Lawrence is wrong-footed.

He trails off, embarrassed.

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Lawrence shifts uncomfortably - why did he tell him?

He squeezes his shoulder again and they walk on.

Lawrence walks along the corridor. He slows as he sees the entrance to the Papal suite, still criss-crossed with ribbons.

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On tables on either side of the door, dozens of votive candles flicker. Bellini stands before them, looking lost in thought. Lawrence approaches.

He waits for his friend to look at him but Bellini continues to stare at the door. Then...

Bellini turns to him.

Lawrence feels his own temper rising.

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This knocks the wind out of Lawrence. Neither can quite believe that they’re talking to each other like this. Lawrence tries again, quietly, urgently...

He walks away leaving a distressed Lawrence staring after him.

Lawrence kneels by his bed, in prayer. His eyes stray to the bed itself, anonymous and bland, the padded headboard, a faint echo of a similar moment...

But before he can locate the memory his exhaustion overcomes him. His eyelids flutter, close and slowly he begins to sink forward into sleep...

Lawrence straightens, still kneeling by a bed. The LATE POPE lies before him, just as at the opening of the film.

But now his eyes are open and he stares at Lawrence. A charged moment. Something vital is about to be said. Lawrence leans in a little.

The Pope opens his mouth to speak and...

... Lawrence wakes in the darkness, hears a muffled conversation, hushed and urgent. A man’s baritone. Then, in reply... a woman’s voice.

Lawrence reaches out a fumbling hand and switches on the light. Gingerly he straightens up from where he had fallen asleep, slumped over the bed, his joints in agony. He wonders if he dreamed the voice. He checks the clock: 2.55am. Silence. Then he hears it again - a woman’s voice, raised, accusatory, Adeyemi’s low reply. He pushes against the bed, standing slowly, the un-oiled springs squeak loud ly.

He tiptoes across the room and listens at the wall but the voices have fallen silent. After a moment he hears the low rumble of Adeyemi’s voice again, followed by the click of a door closing.

He hurries to his own door and opens it...

Lawrence peers out into the corridor, just in time to see a flash of the blue uniform as it disappears around the corner .

He stands undecided for a moment, then quietly closes the door and...

... sits on his bed, mind whirring.

TITLE CARD: SECOND DAY OF CONCLAVE

The sea of cardinals mill around the courtyard, ready for the second day of the Conclave. Lawrence, bleary-eyed from his broken night, sees O’Malley approach.

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Lawrence notices Bellini in the throng, watching him.

Lawrence walks, aware of the inevitable SECURITY MAN trailing him and the crackle of his walkie-talkie. From the sky above comes the drone of circling heli copters. A gust of wind almost takes Lawrence’s zucchetto.

Moments later a figure appears at his side - Adeyemi.

They walk in uncomfortable silence for a moment.

Lawrence looks at him in surprise.

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He falls back to talk to two of the African cardinals walking behind them. Lawrence walks on, wondering if Adeyemi has just offered him the position of Secretary of State as a bribe.

Pencils scratch the names of cardinals on ballot papers...

Elderly cardinals labour down the aisle, ballots held aloft in shaking hands...

Ballot papers are dropped into the urn...

A needle pierces a ballot paper with scarlet thread...

Cardinal Lombardi leans into the microphone.

CARDINAL LOMBARDI CARDINAL LOMBARDI

(Italian ) I risultati del secondo < The results of the second scrutinio sono i seguenti. ballot are... Cardinal Cardinale Adeyemi: Adeyemi: thirty-four votes. trentaquattro voti. Cardinale Cardinal Tedesco: twenty-five Tedesco: venticinque voti. votes. Cardinal Bellini: Cardinale Bellini: diciotto eighteen votes. Cardinal voti. Car dinale Tremblay: Tremblay: sixteen votes. sedici voti. Cardinale Cardinal Lawrence: nine Lawrence: nove voti... votes... >

Lawrence barely has time to register this increase in his tally before...

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Lawrence stands and walks to the microphone, aware of the whispered conversations around him.

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Italian) Fratelli, in conformità con < My brothers, in accordance la Costituzione apostolica, with the Apostolic non ci fermeremo a bruciare Constitution, we will not le schede a questo punto , ma stop to burn the ballot procederemo immediatamente al papers at this point, but successivo scrutinio... instead proceed immediately to the next vote... >

Again...

Pencils scratch the names of cardinals on ballot papers...

Elderly cardinals labour down the aisle, ballots held aloft in shaking hands...

Ballot papers are dropped into the urn...

A needle pierces a ballot paper with scarlet thread...

Lawrence holds his pen, tip down, on his desk, waiting for the results. Cardinal Lombardi leans into the microphone.

CARDINAL LOMBARDI CARDINAL LOMBARDI

(Italian) I risultati del terzo < The results of the third scrutinio sono i seguenti. ballot are... Cardinal Cardinale Adeyemi: Adeyemi: fifty-two votes...> cinquantadue voti...

Lawrence glances at Adeyemi. The Nigerian has his head sunk on his chest in prayer.

The pen in his hand suddenly vibrates. A faint tremor runs through the sound-proofed chamber. Lombardi, feeling it, hesitates. The rows of cardinals stir. Lombardi, puzzled, looks to Lawrence, who frowns, nods him to continue...

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Two NUNS stand at a window, staring out at the city beyond. A sinister thread of black smoke is rising from somewhere in the east, on the Quirinal Hill. Distantly we hear the sound of sirens wailing. One of the Nuns clasps her hands and begins to pray in a low, urgent murmur. Sister Agnes appears behind them. They glance at her nervously, but from her look understand they are to continue.

Lawrence walks with O’Malley. Two SECU RITY MEN hurry past them.

MONSIGNOR O’MALLEY There’s been an explosion your Eminence. In the Piazza Barberini.

MONSIGNOR O’MALLEY It’s unclear at this moment. There are injuries but no talk of fatalities so far.

Lawrence considers for a moment.

MONSIGNOR O’MALLEY Of course your Eminence.

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They walk on in silence.

The cardinals at lunch. Some surreptitiously look to the windows, searching the skies for the dispersing veil of distant smoke.

Lawrence comes with a plate from the buffet, hesitates, then takes a seat at Bellini’s table. The two men avoid each other’s gaze. The other cardinals continue their stilted conversation - everyone aware that something has happened in the outside world.

No-one answers for a moment.

Lawrence is suddenly awar e of a Cardinal at his shoulder. It is Guttoso.

GUTTOSO GUTTOSO

(Quietly, Italian) (Quietly) < Dean, this morning’s Decano, l'incidente di incident. Have you heard stamattina. Avete sentito any...? > qualcosa ...?

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Interrupting, Italian) (Interrupting, Italian) < Your Eminence, we are Eminenza, siamo in sequestered. > isolamento.

GUTTOSO GUTTOSO

< Of course, but as a Roman Certo, ma essendo io stesso myself... > romano...

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LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Firmly) (Firmly) < I’m sorry. Paragraph four Mi dispiace. Il quarto of the Apostolic Constitution paragrafo della Costituzione is quite clear. > Apostolica è piuttosto chiaro

in proposito.

Guttoso hesitates then, disgruntled, nods and walks away. Lawrence turns back to the table aware that the others have been listening. There is a beat of embarrassed silence. Then Bellini steps in, a s if there had been no interruption.

His eyes flick to Lawrence and away again.

Lawrence is n o longer listening. Under the chatter of the room he is puzzled to discern a raised voice. Suddenly there is a crash. He turns, in time to see a NUN hurrying back to the kitchens, followed by two more SISTERS as Adeyemi leaves his table and heads out of the room.

Beside him, Landolfi shrugs, disinterested.

No-one is paying much attention. A Nun appears with mop and bucket to clear up the mess. Lawrence looks at Adeyemi’s empty chair.

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Lawrence stands getting coffee. He turns and finds three of the African Cardinals behind him, their expressions mournful. And his heart sinks. For a moment he has a mad impulse to flee. But...

The cardinals exchan ge glances.

Nakitanda shrugs, takes his arm.

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The kitchen is full of NUNS preparing food. Lawrence crosses towards the back, looking for the missing nun. Those closest to him bow their heads as he passes.

In the back the office is empty. Lawrence returns.

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Italian) Potreste dirmi dove si trova < Could you tell me, where is la sorella che ha fatto the sister who just had the cadere la bottiglia prima? accident? >

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

< Would you be kind enough to Sareste così gentile da take me to her? > portarmi da lei?

The Nun begins to lead him back to the dining room.

The Nun knocks on the door of the office. There is no reply. Lawrence steps forward and knocks more loudly. After a moment, the door opens a little and SISTER AGNES peers out.

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He grips the door handle. Amazed, he finds that as he pushes, she resists.

An impasse as both stare at each other.

Beat. Finally she stands aside.

The NUN - a plump middle-aged Nigerian woman - sits in a corner of the office. She sta nds as Lawrence enters.

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She opens her mouth to protest again but Lawrence turns and stares at her with a look of such freezing authority that she finally bows her head and walks out of the room, closing the door after her. Lawrence sits, facing SISTER SHANUMI.

Shanumi stares at the floor, shakes her head.

Again, she shakes her head. Lawrence sits, at a loss. Then, inspiration strikes. He leans towards her again.

TRACKING with Lawrence as he walks determinedly down the corridor.

He reaches the door of Adeyemi’s room - the room next to his own and knocks. After a moment Adeyemi opens the door, drying his face.

He walks back into the room. Lawrence hesitates, then follows him...

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Adeyemi is in the bathroom. We hear the steady stream of urination, followed by the flush. He walks out, buttoning his cassock, seems surprised to find LAWRENCE there.

Lawrence watches in silence, waiting him out. Adeyemi turns from the mirror and walks past Lawrence into the room.

He catches himself.

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Adeyemi flinches.

For a moment the two men stare at each other in silence, Adeyemi’s jaw jutted in defiance. Then something in him crumbles. He sits on the bed.

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Adeyemi looks up at him.

Lawrence hesitates, hating this duty. He steps closer, taking Adeyemi’s hands in his.

Adeyemi’s eyes prick with tears.

He bends closer, grips the Nigerian’s hands tighter.

A long beat. Adeyemi nods blindly, disengages his hands to wipe his eyes. He breathes deeply, gathers himself.

Beat. Lawrence holds out a hand, hel ps the Nigerian sink to his knees then joins him. They pray.

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The Fourth and Fifth Ballots in progress. We’re watching Adeyemi walk down the aisle, his ballot held high in his hand. He passes the seats of the African Cardinals who, to a man, avert their eyes. He reaches the microphone.

ADEYEMI ADEYEMI

(Solemnly, in Latin) (Solemnly) < I call as my witness Christ Testor Christum Dominum, qui the Lord, who will be my me iudicaturus est, me eum judge, that my vote is given eligere, quem secundum Deum to the one who before God I iudico eligi debere. think sho uld be elected. >

Lawrence sits, marvelling at the man’s dignity in the face of his ruined life.

He turns back to his own ballot paper. A beat. Reluctantly, he writes: Bellini.

- Cardinals shuffle down the aisle, ballots held up in shaking hands...

- Ballots are dropped into the Ur n...

- High above, the Last Judgement lies cloaked in darkness...

Cardinal Lombardi is reading the results.

CARDINAL LOMBARDI CARDINAL LOMBARDI

(Italian) I risultati del quinto < The results of the Fifth scrutinio sono i seguenti. Ballot are... Cardinal Cardinale Tremblay: quaranta Tremblay, forty votes. > voti.

The Canadian bows his head and places his hands together, as his colleagues twist in their seats to examine the new front- runner.

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You can feel the electric tension in the room now - a staggering haemorrhage of Adeyemi’s followers. In a sea of scratching pencils, the Nigerian sits staring at the wall ahead, as if oblivious.

Lawrence sits, horribly aware of being an object of curiosity for the cardinals around him, who a re registering his increased share of votes. He can’t stop himself looking to Bellini and finds the cardinal’s cold gaze upon him.

LOMBARDI LOMBARDI

(Italian) Fratelli, qui si conclude il < My brothers, that concludes quinto scrutinio. Poiché the fifth ballot. No nessun candidato ha ottenuto candidate having achieved the la maggioranza nece ssaria, le necessary majority, we shall votazioni riprenderanno resume voting tomorrow domani mattina. morning. >

The chapel has emptied. O’Malley bundles the ballots into the stove and burns them. He crosses the vestibule and turns to where Lawrence sits in the chapel, lost in thought, picks up his clipboard of notes.

MONSIGNOR O’MALLEY The incident this morning, your Eminence. I have more information, if...?

Lawrence considers, finally shakes his head.

MONSIGNOR O’MALLEY (Bowing) Of course, Eminence.

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O’Malley glances at his clipboard.

MONSIGNOR O’MALLEY Uhh...Oh, Cardinal Benitez. His health problems? He was issued with a return ticket to Geneva, paid for from the Pope’s own account. I checked the visa application. The purpose for travel was given as “medical treatment.” Anyway, whatever it was, it can’t have been serious. The tickets were cancelled. He never went.

Lawrence nods, barely listening.

O’Malley lingers. Lawrence gives him a questioning look.

Lawrence feels a flush of anger.

O’Malley nods, taken aback. Beat. Lawrence relents, touches O’Malley’s wrist.

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He watches the older man walk away.

Lawrence sits on his bed, struggling to unlace his shoes. He manages to remove one and has to pause to regain his breath.

A KNOCK at the door jerks him upright and startled. He crosses to the door and opens it to reveal Bellini and Sabbadin outside.

Lawrence , Bellini and Sabbadin stand in a staircase.

Lawrence glances around at the shadowy staircase. This feels absurd.

Bellini stirs.

He clears his throat. An awkward beat.

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He spreads his hands. The three stand i n silence for a moment.

A few stories below a door creaks, footsteps on marble echo throughout the staircase. Bellini peers over the banister at a cardinal in conversation below. He continues, lowering his voice.

Lawrence shakes his head.

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The two stare at him, stunned.

Sabbadin glances nervously at Bellini, who frowns.

They turn to look at him.

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Beat. Lawrence looks at his friend, but Bellini avoids his gaze.

The three stand in silence - the gloom of realpolitik descending upon them.

Lawrence stands lost in thought as the elevator rises. It stops at a floor and the doors slide open.

The ancient Cardinal LOWENSTEIN, grey-faced wi th fatigue, leaning on his walking stick, creeps slowly into the lift. Lawrence bites down on his impatience, flashes a smile, holding the door for his elderly colleague.

On the landing beyond a door opens and Tedesco and Adeyemi emerge from a room.

Adeyemi and Lawrence lock gazes. The Nigerian’s former sorrow and remorse seems to have passed, to be replaced by a look of defiance, almost hostility. Then he turns away, following the Patriarch of Venice.

The doors slide closed again and the elevator continues its ascent. For a moment the only sound is Lowenstein’s laboured breathing. Then...

Lawrence is still thinking about what he’s just seen - the formation of a new right-wing voting block?

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A door opens a little and Benitez peers cautiously out at us, his open cassock clutched together at his throat.

Lawrence is a little taken aback by Benitez’ wariness.

To Thomas' surprise, Benitez disappears back into the room, leaving him standing in the corridor. After a moment he reappears, clothed now.

Lawrence takes in the room - identical to his own, except for a few lit candles here and the bathroom beyond.

He watches Lawrence, the same keen gaze. Lawrence nods.

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For a moment Lawrence feels affronted - is he, the Dean, to be given lessons in prayer now? But he fights it down.

He sits and starts to tie his shoes.

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He regrets his tone instantly. Benitez studies him solemnly.

Lawrence strikes the side of his seat in frustration.

Benitez stares back at him calmly, and once more Lawrence senses a surprising strength of character in this frail man.

He walks towards the bathroom, blowing out a few candles.

Lawrence watches for a moment and then sighs. He wets thumb and forefinger and snuffs out the candle beside the bed. As he does he stares, distracted, at the little razor, out of place in the bedroom, still in its cellophane wrapper. And wonders why he has noted this.

Tedesco sits, holding court with his supporters. Adeyemi and the African cardinals sit with him now.

On the other side of the room, Tremblay circulates amongst his supporters, shaking hands, exchanging a few remarks, every inch the political campaigner.

Lawrence sits watching the two factions, sick at heart. His gaze drifts to the blue-habited nuns moving between the tables with trays and wine, eyes downcast.

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On a sudden impulse, he stands.

Lawrence sits with Sister Agnes, her eyes darting to the cage with the canary.

Sister Agnes stares at him, her i ndomitable gaze. She gets up and checks on the bird which has been oddly silent.

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Sister Agnes turns and stares at him in silence for a moment. Then she puts her glasses on and turns to the computer on the desk. She types rapidly, then stands and walks away, leaving Lawrence to view the e-mail she has opened up. It is marked October 3rd, Confidential. Lawrence's gaze is drawn to the last paragraph...

“...I would be grateful if you could take particular care of our sister, as her presence has been requested by the Prefect of the Congregation for the Evangelisation of Peoples, His Eminence, Cardinal Joseph Tremblay.”

Lawrence stares at the name.

After dinner Cardinals are heading for the stairs and elevator. Tremblay amongst a group of acolytes.

Tremblay turns -- Lawrence stands on the st aircase above him, waiting.

Tremblay’s smile is suddenly wary as Lawrence leads him to...

The corridor is empty and in semi-darkness. Tremblay and Lawrence stand in the light of the fluorescents, their breath pluming in the air.

Tremblay sighs, shakes his head with a sorrowful smile.

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Tremblay looks genuinely shocked at the remark.

Lawrence stares at him, staggered.

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He makes a visible effort to catch his anger.

He walks away.

Across the courtyard a security guard smokes a cigarette. Alone in the dark, Lawrence feels his uncomforta ble gaze upon him.

The only source of light shining from the bathroom Lawrence lies on his bed, praying. After a moment his eyes open and he stares blindly ahead, hoping for some sign, some guidance... The sound of Adeyemi’s snoring coming from next door.

Suddenly Lawrence sits up in bed, a decision forming in his mind. He opens the drawer to his nigh tstand... taking the pass key Sister Agnes had lent him.

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At the end of the corridor the lift doors open, a silhouette appearing in the hall. Lawrence silently walks down the empty corridor.

In front of the papal suite the votive candles flicker in their red glasses. The locked door is still criss-crossed with red ribbons.

Lawrence stares at the door, building his courage. Then he takes Sister Agne s’ pass key and unlocks the door. He hesitates then pushes the door open, the wax seals cracking free and the ribbons fluttering down...

Lawrence crosses himself and then steps into...

Lawrence fumbles on the light and stares around the familiar, plain room, the few simple items of furniture: the blue scalloped sofa and matching armchairs, the coffee table, the prie-dieu.

Lawrence sits at the desk, takes the briefcase on his knee and opens it. Inside is an electric razor, a tin of peppermints and a battered copy of The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis. An ancient bus-ticket acts as a book-mark. Lawrence opens the book and finds a passage underlined:

“At the Day of Judgement we shall not be asked what we have read but what we have done. ”

Lawrence stares at the words. They feel like encouragement, a command almost, from the late Holy father.

Lawrence searches through the Pope’s desk, rooting through the drawers... An empty spectacles case, a plastic bottle of lens cleaner, a box of aspirin, a calculator, rubber bands...

He freezes, hearing FOOTSTEPS approach.

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SISTER AGNES is walking down the corridor. She slows, seeing the broken seals of the papal suite and the light showing beneath the door. She stops at the door, listening.

Then the LIGHT below the Papal Suite door switches off.

Lawrence stands by the light switch in the darkness, practically holding his breath - aware that someone is ju st on the other side of the door.

SISTER AGNES hesitates, her hand on the door handle, considering who the intruder could be.

And suddenly she is certain that it is Lawrence on the other side of the door.

A strange moment of connection.

Then TWO NUNS cross the corridor behind her, deep in conversation in Italian, breaking the silence.

Agnes straightens up again and walks on down the corridor.

Lawrence waits in the dark, listening to her footsteps recede. Then he switches the light back on.

Lawrence enters, silhouetted in the door frame. The bed has been strippe d.

He opens the wardrobe - a simple closet that has been emptied of everything except two ghost-like cassocks that hang from the rail. The sight of them makes his heart ache.

He turns to the bedside cabinet, kneels carefully and checks the small drawer, but it’s empty.

On top of the cabinet lie the late Pope’s spectacles and alarm clock, just as they were on the night the pope died.

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The sight of them finally undoes Lawrence and leans his elbows on the bed, his face in his hands, and is wracked by a fit of dry sobbing.

Finally, he opens his eyes again, bleakly accepting that he has given in to a fit of paranoid madness. He is about to stand again when he finds himself staring at the headboard with it’s pitifully frayed edge, the crack in the wood, as if some implement had been forced into the join...

He reaches out a hand and pulls at the bottom corner of the padded head-piece. It resists. With both hands now he pulls harder, grunting with the effort...

The headboard inches out from its frame. The material on the inside edge, normally hidden, has a frayed six inch slit down it.

Tentatively Lawrence slips his fingers into the padded interior.

When he withdraws them he his holding several FOLDED SHEETS OF PAPER.

Bellini opens his door and blinks at Lawrence.

Lawrence stands sipping a glass of water. Bellini sits on the bed, reading the sheets of paper.

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Lawrence finds himself staring down at the small plastic CHESS SET which Bellini had taken from the Pope’s apart ment; the pieces still grouped in the unfinished final game.

Bellini looks up from the sheets.

Lawrence is silent.

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Bellini stares at the papers in his hand. He holds them out to Lawrence.

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They stare at each other in shocked silence. Then...

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Beat. Bellini looks away. Lawrence studies his friend for a moment.

He gets up and walks out.

TITLE CARD: THIRD DAY OF CONCLAVE.

Dawn. Security check the line of NUNS arriving to prepare breakfast. They bow their heads to a Cardinal as he passes.

A sheet from the REPORT is placed on the photocopier plate. The heading reads Strictly Confidential. The names of some cardinals have been obliterated with pen.

Lawrence, bleary from a sleepless night, stands staring at the array of settings. He presses a button. “Error” flashes on the screen. Lawrence stares at the message, wondering if it’s an obscure judgement...

Started, Lawrence finds Sister Agnes behind him, watching him with her unwavering gaze. She glances at the sheet, taking in that heading. Lawrence waits, frozen.

A fractional hesitation. Then Sister Agnes nods and moves to the copier...

Sister Agnes walks from plate to plate, distributing large brown envelopes. Cardinal Lawrence helps here the first CARDINALS arrive and take their seats at the dining tables.

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The dining room is now full, the buzz of excited conversation. Cardinals turn in their seats to stare at Lawrence who sits, impassive, feeling strangely calm. Sabbadin appears in front of him, tosses the report on the table before him.

He walks away before Lawrence can reply. Benitez sits at the table beside him with bread and fruit.

Lawrence stares blindly at the food.

The room falls suddenly silent as Tremblay appears, hair immaculate , chin jutted. He strides towards Lawrence.

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A stir of amazement from the listening CARDINALS.

TEDESCO TEDESCO

(Standing, Italian) (Standing) < If someone else may be Se è possibile aggiungere allowed to join this dialogue qualcun altro a questa - the names of eight conversazione... i nomi di cardinals have been blacked otto cardinali sono stati out. I assume the dean can oscurati. Immagino che il tell us who they are? Let Decano possa dirci chi sono? them confirm, here and now, Lasciamo che siano loro a whether Cardinal Tremblay confermare, qui ed ora, se il requested their vot es in Cardinal Tremblay ha return for the payment. > richiesto i loro voti in

cambio di soldi.

Uproar.

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More uproar. At his table, Bellini watches his old friend standing alone in the storm of voices, conflicted whether he should come to his aid, when...

Gradually the words cut through and the cardinals turn to stare at the small, resolute figure of Si ster Agnes standing in their midst. A silence falls, perhaps out of shock at her presumption.

She genuflects and then walks out, head held very erect. Tremblay gapes after her in horror.

For a moment no-one speaks. Then Adeyemi stands and points a finger at him.

He turns and walks out and Tremblay finds the cardinals staring at him, stony-faced.

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Lawrence kneels in prayer. He looks up as Bellini kneels beside him. A beat.

Surprised, Lawrence looks at him.

He shakes his head.

Lawrence stares at him.

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The two old friends stare at each other. Then, as if admitting to himself for the first time that the thought, the ambition, was always there...

Beat. Then Bellini nods.

And finds Tedesco watching him. The Patriarch raises his eyebrows in amused complicity: Just you and me.

Lawrence picks up his pen, feeling he no longer has a choice. Slowly he writes a name on the ballot. “Lawrence.”

He stands and holding the ballot above his head, walks down the aisle to the waiting chalice, knowing he is a bout to sin.

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(in Latin) Testor Christum Dominum, qui < I call as my witness Christ me iudicaturus est, me eum the Lord, who will be my eligere, quem secundum Deum judge, that my vote is given iudico eligi debere. before God to the one who I think should be elected. >

He holds the ballot over the chalice. Hesitates.

Then he drops the ballot into the chalice.

The explosion is felt first as a ripple in the floor, a bass vibration throughout his body. Then the boarded windows are blasted in, raining glass down onto the chapel.

For a moment Lawrence stands, stunned, wondering, almost hoping, that he is dead. Time slows.

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For the first time bright morning light floods the former gloom of the chapel and Lawrence finds himself dwarfed and pitiful before Michelangelo’s vast fresco The Last Judgement. The work burns brilliantly before him, Christ dividing the Damned from the Saved...

He turns again and finds the doors at the end of the vestibule beginning to open, screeching across the glass- strewn floor.

Two SECURITY GUARDS, guns drawn, begin to push their way in. Frightened faces peer from behind them.

CLOSE ON A FRESCO - Michelangelo’s Crucifixion of St Peter.

Lawrence stands, staring at the huge fresco. St Pe ter, about to be crucified upside down, cranes his neck upward, eyes us reproachfully.

O’Malley pads down the chapel and joins him.

Lawrence stares at the fresco for a moment.

O’Malley passes him a s heet of paper. Lawrence reads it.

O’Malley examines his exhausted face.

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O’Malley hesitates, wondering if Lawrence is in shock.

Lawrence doesn’t know what to say.

Lawrence stares out from the back of the car as it speeds through the court yards of the Vatican, siren blaring, the startled faces of the Swiss Guards they pass, bathed in pulsing blue light.

He glances up at the sky, watching the helicopter that buzzes angrily overhead, missiles protruding from its belly.

PUSHING LAWRENCE as he strides into the Casa, sweeps through the courtyard, past frightened groups of NUNS and CURIA. Mandorff wait s for him.

Mandorff nods grimly and follows him towards the Casa...

The assembled cardinals look up anxiously from their seats.

Archbishop Krasinski, a Tedesco supporter, stands.

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Beside Lawrence, Bellini is already on his feet.

There is a murmur of approval and Tedesco colours. Lawrence seizes the moment.

Scores of hands are raised - a clear majority.

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A ripple of dismay is spreading throughout the room.

The expressions of horror grow in volume. Tedesco lumbers to his feet again hand r aised like an Old Testament prophet, something horribly triumphant in his manner.

TEDESCO TEDESCO *

(Italian) Qui. Qui vediamo il risultato < Here! Here we see the della dottrina del result of the doctrine of relativismo tanto amata dai relativism so beloved of our nostri fratelli liberali! Un liberal brothers! A relativismo che vede tutte le relativism that sees all fedi e le fantasie passeggere faiths and passing fancies avere lo stesso peso, tanto accorded equal weight, so che ora, quando ci guardiamo that now, when we look around intorno, vediamo la patria us, we see the homeland of della Santa Chiesa Cattolica the Holy Roman Catholic romana punteggiata dalle Church dotted with the moschee e dai minareti di mosques and minarets of Maomett o! Sembra che non ci * Muhammad! Sembra che non ci * sia più la vera Fede. * sia più la vera Fede.

Tedesco wheels on him, scarlet with anger - a rare moment of loss of control.

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una guerra di religione!

Krasinski, sensing he is going too far, reaches up a restraining hand but Tedesco brushes him angrily aside.

the strength to fight these * animals! *

BENITEZ * (to Tedesco, over the * uproar) * My brother Cardinal... *

The cardinals fall silent. *

Te desco turns to look at him in surprise. *

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(continues in Spanish) *

* for every man and woman. *

Esta es mi primera vez entre * * ustedes y probablemente sea * This is my first time amongst * mi última. Y perdónenme, pero* you and I suppose it will be * en estos días solo hemos * my last. Forgive me, but * demostrado ser un grupo de * th ese last few days we have * hombres pequeños y mezquinos.* shown ourselves to be small * Interesados solamente en * and petty men. We have seemed * nosotros mismos, en Roma, en * concerned only with * la elección y el poder. * ourselves, with Rome, with *

* these elections, with power. *

Pero estas cosas no son la * * iglesia. La iglesia no es la * But these things are not the * tradición. La iglesia no es * Church. The Church is not a * el pasado. La iglesia es lo * tradition. The Church is not * que hagamos en adelante. * the past. The Church is what *

we do next. > *

A nun walks quickly away from camera *

Cardinals exit down the steps. *

A group of Nuns walk quickly down a stairway. *

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Nun’s walk hurriedly past Cardinals standing in small groups * having animated conversations *

Many Cardinals stand in small groups having animated * conversations *

Three Cardinals have a hushed conversation. Dozens of other * cardinals in the background do the same. *

Two Nun’s look at someone below. Small groups of Cardinals * continue their discussions. *

POV of Nuns looking at scores of Cardinals gathered below * talking. Cardinal Benetiz sits alone on a bench with a * sandwich as other Cardinals glance at him. *

Lawrence sits alone, digest ing the contentious gathering, as a light drizzle of rain hits the pavement. Archbishop Mandorff quietly approaches.

Lawrence tears himself away from his thoughts.

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Lawrence leads the cardinals from the hostel. Overhead helicopters drone. Lawrence ignores them and opens up his umbrella. It has begun to rain.

The mass of cardinals follow, walking in silence, a sea of white umbrellas crossing the gardens.

A sense of silent solidarity. Bellini arrives beside Lawrence. He takes his arm in his. The two friends look at each other, united again. They walk on.

The broken glass has been swept away. A faint breeze blows through the space where the windows were.

Lawrence stands at the microphone. The beginning of what he senses will be the final ballot of the Conclave.

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Latin) Ecclesiae tuae, Domine, < O Father, so that we may rector et custos, infunde, guide and watch over Your quaesumus, famulis tuis Church, give to us, Your spiritum intelligentiae, servants, the blessings of veritatis et pacis, ut, quae intelligence, truth and tibi placita sunt, toto corde peace, so that we may strive cognoscant et agnita tota to know Your will, and serve virtute sectentur. Per You with total dedication. Christum Dominum nostrum. For Christ our Lord... >

From the assembled Conclave comes the low rumble o f “Amen.”

From outside comes a strange, soft sound - the rise and fall of an immense wave. The cardinals raise thei r heads, listening, puzzled, until they realise: it is the sound of tens of thousands gathering in St Peter’s Square.

Droplets of water are trickling through the shattered windows, and down the stone walls.

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Lawrence watches the raindrops for a moment. Then he picks up his pen. His mind feels suddenly calm, clear. A moment of grace.

He begins to write.

...ballots fall into the waiting urn....

...the ballots are pierced by the needle, threaded on the scarlet strand.

...the hands of the Scrutineers take ballots from the urn and pass it along...

...the white cloth is smoo thed over the table, the final urn of counted votes is placed at its centre, ready for the announcement...

Still in SLO-MO, the cardinals rise, one by one to their feet, applauding...

A crowd of cardinals are gathered around someone, their backs to us. We PUSH slowly through the crowd, which parts for us, until we reach the cardinal at the centre, the only seated man in the chapel...

Benitez.

Lawren ce, having reached him, stares down at the slight figure.

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Latin) Acceptasne electionem de te < In the name of the whole canonice factam in Summum College of Cardinals, I ask Pontificem? you, Cardinal Benitez, do you accept your canonical election as Supreme Pontiff?>

Benitez, as if he hasn’t heard, continues to stare down at his feet, his face obscured by a tumbling lock of black hair . A long silence, a collective holding of fearful of breath. If he should refuse...

Pontificem?

At last Benitez raises his head and stares at Lawrence.

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BENITEZ BENITEZ

(Latin) Accepto. < I accept. >

A murmur of relief, of pleasure, erupts around them. Lawrence smiles, pats his heart to indicate his own relief.

LAWRENCE LAWRENCE

(Latin) Quo nomine vis vocari? < And by what name do you wish to be called? >

Benitez stands.

BENITEZ BENITEZ

(Latin) Innocentius. < Innocent. >

A moment of silence. No Pope has derived a title from one of the virtues for generations. The n applause of approval builds again. Holding the table for support, Lawrence sinks to his knees before the new Holy Father. Benitez stares down at him, smiling, thinking...

Lawrence stands with Mandorff preparing the deed of acceptance. Mandorff is filling in Benitez’s name on the deed ready for the Pontiff’s and witnesses’ signatures. Lawrence glances at O’Malley and finds him standing at a table, staring with strange fixity.

O’Malley doesn’t react.

Startled, O’Malley looks at him.

O’Malley blinks at him, looking confused, almost frightened.

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He examines O’Malley, puzzled.

O’Malley nods, a stricken smile. He begins to walk away. Suddenly he wheels around and returns.

MONSIGNOR O’MALLEY May I speak with you in private?

Lawrence feels a stab of alarm.

The two men stand, alone.

He trails off, helpless .

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O’Malley looks at him, stricken.

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Lawrence strides through the chapel towards the “Room of Tears.”

He descends the stairs and crosses the sacristy, knocking on the door. Father Haas opens it a little and looks at Lawrence in alarm.

Haas steps hurriedly aside. Lawrence enters the little room.

A pale Benitez sits on a narrow bench in the corner, hunched over, looking small. The PAPAL TAILOR helplessly holds the white cassock of the Pope, not knowing what to do.

The TAILOR puts the cassock away and withdraws.

Surprised, Haas bows and leaves, closing the door behind him. Lawrence and Benitez remain for a moment in silence.

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He’s expecting anger, denial, but Benitez merely smiles, gently.

A beat. A stunned Lawrence sinks into the nearest chair. A fter a moment, Benitez pulls up a chair across from him, their knees almost touching.

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Lawrence stares at him and tries to absorb this. Benitez smiles sympathetically.

Lawrence is baffled, trying to absorb what he has just learned. Benitez gently continues.

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Lawrence considers that.

Lawrence nods, thinking that O’Malley can be trusted, that this can be kept secret.

Lawrence looks at him.

The two stare at each other.

Silence. Lawrence sits, staring blankly ahead, trying to absorb what he has just learned. Does it fundamentally change who Benitez is?

He finds himself small i n a place so vast, staring at the floor, trying to pray, hoping for guidance, some sense of connection. His mind remains numb.

Suddenly he turns and stops, seeing...

A small TURTLE that is working its way across the marble.

Lawrence stares at the surreal sight - this little creature inching towards him.

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He walks to the turtle and picks it gently up. There’s something so absurd about this.

O’Malley places ballot papers and notes, any record of the Conclave into the stove and lights them.

Then he activates the chemical canister.

His eyes are drawn slowly up the length of the flue to the point where it projects through the open window and out into th e sky.

Lawrence walks back to the fountain and places the turtle gently back into the water.

And then he hears it.

The distant roar of a quarter of a million voices raised in hope and acclamation as they react to the white smoke now rising from the Vatican.

Lawrence listens as the great wave of joy rolls on, and on.

Lawrence packs his clothes and few belongings into his case. Finally he sits, at the same time feeling an overwhelming exhaustion as well as the sensation of having accomplished his task.

He looks up, hearing an electronic whine. The metal shutters at his window are slowly ascending.

He opens the window and looks outside, letting in the air and the sun, as the cool winter breeze plays with the curtains. He smiles, content.

The shutters in the lobby rise, letting in the evening light.

In the office the canary sits in his cage, reacting to the sound from outside. He begins to quietly chirp.

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Deserted streets in this ancient city. A newspaper in the gutter. An abandoned car on the corner. Next to it an old statue in crumbling marble under the steady stream of a fountain.

The store with the PLASTIC PIETÀS from the beginning. And suddenly there is Cardinal Lawrence, suitcase in hand, resting his gaze on the small statues.

Then he heads down the street and disappears around the corner. We HOLD on the display, the Pietàs, the compassion of the WOMAN cradling the Man of Sorrows.

A near-empty bar in a small café. On the counter a cold espresso that someone didn’t have time to finish.

Behind it, in the background, the faint flicker of a TV. The screen shows the balcony of St. Pet er. The red shape of a Cardinal steps through the curtains.

A small figure in a white cassock steps out next to him, bowing his head in humble submission. And now we hear it, the roar rising to a deafening volume, the sounds of distant celebrations coming through on the TV.