Secrets of the Conclave seemed rather optimistically titled, given that everybody at this year’s papal election had made a solemn vow before God not to divulge any. But, while we duly heard nothing about backstage politicking – apart from regular assurances that none took place – this respectful and quietly charming documentary did succeed in humanising the strange process of picking a new pope, and even in supplying a few gentle revelations.
It transpires, for example, that Catholic cardinals suffer from the same anxiety about phonelessness as the rest of us, with the requirement to hand in their mobiles before entering the Sistine Chapel initially causing feelings of slight panic. The British Dominican Timothy Radcliffe noted approvingly that wine was served with the electors’ dinners – which is ‘always a good thing as it encourages conversation’. Vincent Nichols, the Archbishop of Westminster, recalled asking the only Mongolian cardinal if his ministry was spent out on the steppes with nomads – which sounded a silly question to me, except that the answer was ‘yes’: he celebrates mass in a foldable tent that follows the nomads around.
Speaking as a liberal Catholic (sorry, Damian Thompson), I remember being struck at the time by how fundamentalist TV often is when it comes to religion – not least when the BBC correspondent reported as straightforward news the fact that the cardinals ‘will be listening to the voice of God telling them exactly where their vote should go’. The same blitheness now applied in Secrets of the Conclave, where it seemed to be taken for granted that, as Nichols put it, ‘Someone in here has been chosen by God, from birth, to be pope’ and ‘all we have to do is find him’.
And yet, precisely by plunging us so deeply and unquestioningly into the world of faith, the longer the programme went on, the harder it became not to wonder if this might sort of be true. The ever-impressive Radcliffe in particular – whom I heard preaching a sermon in the early 1980s that I’ve never forgotten – did a beautifully eloquent job of explaining what he understands ‘the guidance of the Holy Spirit’ to mean. (Incidentally, and somewhat disappointingly, Radcliffe was also the only person to mention the film Conclave – which must have been on many viewers’ minds – and he did so merely to correct one small detail.)
Meanwhile, we were made to realise that in the rest of Rome, from which the papal electors had been comprehensively cut off, there were other considerations that clearly felt almost as important to the people considering them. For the flustered mayor, the conclave essentially hinged on security and worrying about the crowds. For a scene-stealing elderly tailor, the main thing was to ensure that there were vestments ready to fit any size of pope. Happily for him, the winner was one of his existing clients.
Not surprisingly, Leo XIV had the warm approbation of all the cardinals we met. Although in a final piece of mild but enjoyable indiscretion, we learned that they did chuckle a bit at how long he kept them waiting on the balcony by staying inside to have a good cry.
Eventually, he did appear, providing more proof that the Catholic Church is nothing if not theatrical. For one thing, some of his words sounded not unlike an Oscar victory speech (‘I’d like to thank all the cardinals.’). For another, it suddenly occurred to me, looking back on the whole programme, that the last time television had brought us a similar voting process, the climatic use of coloured smoke and a weeping winner was on The Celebrity Traitors.
BBC1’s Stuffed threw in more or less every possible element of a heart-warming festive family drama – among them, a grumpy bloke becoming less grumpy; his pathologically patient wife; their cheeky screen-addicted kids; a trip to Lapland; hints of the supernatural; reminders that racism is bad; a wise oldie with an edge of lovable naughtiness (in this case, a fondness for cannabis brownies); and of course a Christmas that appeared to be heading for disaster but proved to be the best ever.
So, how did the show go as badly wrong as it did? Well, one obvious reason is that these elements never felt any more than merely thrown in, with such attempts as there were to bring them together relying on crunching handbrake turns that left the plot and characterisation in tatters. This was especially true at the end when we got not one but two twists that managed to be both achingly predictable and totally implausible after everything that had gone before. A second reason was the leadenness of the jokes and stabs at poignancy alike. In short – like all programmes (and people) that are desperately eager to please but fail – Stuffed was fundamentally embarrassing.
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