In a cynical age, Los Dos Papas offers an unfashionable virtue: hope. It reminds us that two old men, arguing about God in a garden, can be more thrilling than any superhero. And that sometimes, the most revolutionary act is to listen.
Released on Netflix to critical acclaim, the film arrived at a moment when the real-world Catholic Church was fracturing between reactionary traditionalists and reformists. By focusing on the transition from Pope Benedict XVI to Pope Francis, Los Dos Papas does not just document a historical handover; it invents a spiritual thriller where the only weapons are guilt, confession, and the Sistine Chapel’s floor tiles. The film’s engine is its casting. Anthony Hopkins as Joseph Ratzinger (Pope Benedict XVI) and Jonathan Pryce as Jorge Mario Bergoglio (Pope Francis) deliver masterclasses in internal conflict. Hopkins plays Benedict not as a villain, but as a lonely scholar. His Ratzinger is a man who loves the Church as an abstract, perfect architecture of doctrine. He is rigid, brilliant, and terrified of the mob. When he plays the piano in the papal summer residence, he looks less like a pontiff and more like a retired professor who has outlived his century. los dos papas
In the annals of cinema, few films have dared to place two men in a room, set them at ideological odds, and emerge with something as fragile and revolutionary as hope. Fernando Meirelles’ Los Dos Papas (2019) is precisely that film. On its surface, it is a buddy dramedy set in the gilded cages of the Vatican. But beneath the Latin chanting and the white cassocks lies a searing, profoundly human argument about the nature of faith, the burden of tradition, and the terrifying necessity of change. In a cynical age, Los Dos Papas offers
Benedict represents the pre-modern Church—beautiful, silent, certain. Francis represents the postmodern Church—messy, dialogical, uncertain. When Benedict argues that the Church must resist the "dictatorship of relativism," Francis counters that the Church must stop dictating and start listening. The film does not declare a winner. Instead, it suggests that both are necessary: the structure of Ratzinger preserves the space for the compassion of Bergoglio. What makes the film so watchable, however, is its joy. After the heavy theology, there is a sequence where the two popes abandon their protocol to watch Germany beat Argentina in the 2010 World Cup. They eat pizza on the floor. They argue about offside rules. They forget, for a moment, that they are the vicars of Christ. Released on Netflix to critical acclaim, the film