For all its flamboyance, The Young Pope is a serious theological work. It rejects both easy atheism and saccharine faith. Lenny’s core belief is that God is terrifying—a hidden, silent, demanding presence. He refuses to offer comfort because comfort is a lie. “What you need,” he tells a desperate woman, “is fear.”
But the season’s arc dismantles his own defenses. Lenny prays not out of love, but out of rage and need. He wants a sign. When he finally receives one—in the form of a miracle involving a dying boy, a confessional, and his own tears—it’s ambiguous. Is it grace, or just chance? Sorrentino refuses to answer. The Young Pope Season 1
The final shot of the season is iconic: Lenny, now humbled and vulnerable, walks into a massive crowd at St. Peter’s. He looks up at the sky, whispers “I do believe,” and the screen cuts to black. We don’t know if he’s lying, converted, or simply exhausted. That’s the point. For all its flamboyance, The Young Pope is
The series opens with the improbable election of Lenny Belardo, the first American pope in centuries, a pontiff who combines doctrinal rigidity with contrarian eccentricity. Sorrentino leans into contrasts: ancient rituals and modern media; divine claims and human frailty; solemn ceremony and absurd spectacle. The tone shifts between reverence and irony, often landing in a liminal space where the sacred looks performative and the performative hints at the sacred. He refuses to offer comfort because comfort is a lie
While Lenny dominates, the ensemble is flawless.
Paolo Sorrentino directs The Young Pope Season 1 as if Michelangelo directed a music video. The cinematography (by Luca Bigazzi) is sumptuous. Every frame is a Renaissance painting: rays of holy light slicing through velvet curtains, a kangaroo hopping through the Papal gardens (yes, a kangaroo), and the Pope walking on water at the end of episode one.
However, the secret weapon is the soundtrack. While classical requiems and Gregorian chants fill the Vatican hallways, the anachronistic thump of electronic music signals the show's true nature. The opening credits feature Juju & Jordash’s "Plastic Love" as Lenny floats through a surreal sea of priests. But the defining moment is the use of Leonard Cohen’s haunting "You Want It Darker" over a montage of Vatican scheming. The lyrics—"I’m ready, my Lord"—echo Lenny’s twisted spiritual surrender.