“Santo, subito!”: Recounting the Pope’s funeral, sixteen years later
On the 16th anniversary of Pope John Paul II’s funeral, The Faithful’s writer/director/producer Annie Berman and co-producer Sara Theriault reflect on filming the historic event.
Annie Berman:
At word of the Pope’s death, I dropped everything and went. Straight off the plane, immediately escorted to the press platform. It was a shock to see the Pope lying there.
I’d never seen a dead body before.
I remembered a fan telling me that only through Princess Diana could she fully grieve for her own mother’s death.
These were the true pilgrims. They came from the furthest reaches of the planet to be here, be close to, be with the body, and each other. They wouldn’t leave until it was over, even if it meant sleeping in the streets for days.
I’d later learn it was the most-watched funeral in history, covered by 137 television networks, broadcasted in 81 countries. More than three million pilgrims arrived in Rome. Twenty-one thousand entered Saint Peter’s Basilica to view the body and pay their respects; three hundred fifty passed by his body each minute. The average waiting was thirteen hours, but some waited as much as 24 hours in a line five kilometers long.
We were lucky, we had a couch at a friend of a friend’s apartment. Laura Colini, an Italian friend I’d met when she was studying at MIT, had a French filmmaker friend, Delphine Regnauld, who offered not only to host us but to also help crew. Somehow we did manage to rent a small room near the Vatican for the night before the funeral.
I don’t remember ever sleeping there, as we set out in the middle of the night to secure our place. That proved a nearly impossible mission. What should have been a ten-minute walk was a three-hour exercise in making our way through throngs of pilgrims also trying to enter Saint Peter’s Square. By some small miracle, eventually, we made it to the entrance. There, we had to try to explain that we were with the press. The press office had granted us fluorescent green vests. We were wearing these, but the guards seemed to not know anything about them. We dug around for some letters, explaining. Once let in, we were still quite far from the entrance to the stairs to the roof of the basilica’s colonnade. Again, it was a never-ending, impossible mission of getting through crowds (with big camera bags and tripods), maneuvering around barricades, and convincing different uniformed people that we were supposed to be there, in English they couldn’t understand.
Saint Peter’s Square was at capacity, they weren’t letting anyone else in.
The church granted us the God’s eye view. The ceremony will be broadcast to jumbo video screens throughout the city, and these same images transmitted around the world.
April 08, 2005. 16 years ago today.
When we finally did arrive, making our way up the narrow spinal infinite staircase, it was almost shocking to see the number of other media there, already recording their stand-ups, having staked out prime real estate. I remember just thinking, this is the story. This is the story the rest of us never see. We see through their lenses, but they go unseen. Up here, in the heavens, looking down. Angels? Snipers? I remember spending a good deal of time interviewing journalists from around the world, seeking their impressions. Who were we to be here, when so many millions of faithful Catholics wanted to be here?
Directly across the way, we faced the world leaders on the adjacent collonade’s rooftop. I remember seeing George W. Bush and Bill Clinton. For a little while, when waiting for it all to begin, we fixed our telephone lens on them, knowing full well we didn’t need it for the movie, but being drawn to these famous faces, our own sheer fascination with celebrity. Then, again, we’d look at one another, in utter disbelief that we were here, up here, now — a constant recognition of the privilege of this experience. Laura would laugh and say, how am I here? Because I met Adam Holt at MIT who introduced me to you, and here I am. And we’d both laugh once more, photograph each other once more.
500,000 pilgrims filled Saint Peter’s Square. Those who couldn’t make it inside watched on large screen TVs set up throughout the city. I’ll never forget the way the crowds erupted into cheer at many various intervals throughout the funeral mass, “Santo subito, santo subito, santo subito,” meaning “Saint soon,” make him a saint soon.
Journalist John Allen later recounted, “they interrupted the silence and reverence of the funeral mass more than 10 times, bursting into cheers, chanting “Saint, saint, saint!”, each time they mentioned the Pope’s service or sacrifice.” And told us that this is how saints were once canonized. First chosen by popular devotion, then ratified by the church.
It was a great view, but it didn’t feel right to be so far removed; I wanted to be in the crowd. We split up. Sara stayed to record the full mass from above. In the crowd, I was overwhelmed by the emotion of it, the tears, the chanting, the adrenaline, the connection with others.
“Santo, subito! Santo, subito!”
It was one of those rare moments when time stood still. And in that moment, a shared experience. No sound, no air, no breath.
He was the People’s Pope, and already their saint.
When the funeral mass ended, and the crowds began leaving, Laura and I stayed to speak with people. She did the talking as she can speak not only Italian but German, French, Spanish, and English. At one point, I remember her looking at me, “Annie, are you ok?” I must’ve had a distant look in my eye, maybe I was swaying, maybe I was about to pass out. It’s then that I realized what time it was. I had been there for 12 hours. On my feet, working, without food, water, a toilette this entire time. Talk about adrenaline! “Yes,” I nodded, even still, not wanting to miss a minute of any of this.
To this day, I think back on that moment in utter disbelief that it ever happened, that we were there, and yet, I can recall every detail. More surprisingly, perhaps, is that none of the funeral mass ended up in the final version of the film. Kill your darlings we did.
Sara Theriault:
For years, there had been speculation that Pope John Paul II was in poor health. Both Annie and I felt strongly that we needed to be there for the funeral. It sounds morbid, but we planned for it. Everyone knew we would one day drop everything and go to Rome. Initially, I think our interest was in filming the massive amount of pilgrims flooding the city and trying to capture their mourning. We were also keen on interviewing and seeing how the media portrayed this historic event. Looking back on it now, I realize we were there to mourn his passing as well. We had been thinking about the Pope daily for years, and there we were, experiencing this moment we had only seen in news footage of Elvis and Diana’s passing.
Once the news broke that the Pope had died we knew we had to get there fast. We knew that the press was required to wear a suit, so we needed to go shopping. We needed something resembling a suit jacket that could be shoved in a camera bag and not get wrinkled. I think we wound up at Target (we were on a budget).
Annie went to Rome a day or two earlier than me. I arrived at the Rome airport very tired because I cannot sleep on planes. I was supposed to meet Annie in the neighborhood we were staying in, so I quickly figured out which train I needed from the airport. The train was the first sign something big was happening. The train was packed with pilgrims wearing matching t-shirts, handkerchiefs, and hats. They were all of different ages and appeared to be from all over the world. The matching shirts reminded me of Elvis week, where the different fan clubs wear matching shirts for the night of the vigil. Later that night and the days following I would see so many erected shrines with notes and candles that looked like they were taken right off the gates of Kensington Palace or Graceland save for the pictures of the Pope.
I got off the train in desperate need of a cup of coffee, but all I could find was espresso, of course. I met up with Annie and was introduced to our hosts and crew for the next few days, Laura and Delphine. We went back to Delphine’s apartment where she fixed me another much-needed cup of coffee. I thought about resting but there was too much excitement and we wanted to see what was happening. At any of these events we shot for this film, there is always a feeling that something is happening and you need to be there to witness it.
Over the next few days until the scheduled funeral we spent a lot of time in and around St. Peter’s Square. As an Art History major, I had studied St. Peter’s Basilica but had never seen it in person. Being led in a back door and up to a press platform was not how I imagined seeing it for the first time. To be honest, I am not sure I really saw it. I was so distracted by the overwhelming weight in the room and that the wonderful grandeur of this church became only a backdrop to the tiny frail body of the Pope. In the film you see the people filing by the Pope lying in state in St Peter’s Basilica. That line weaved its way at least 10 people deep, all the way through St. Peter’s Square and down the street, at times over a mile long. This line was never-ending for days. People were waiting all day, some as many as 20 hours, to walk past, never stopping, for the briefest glimpse of Pope John Paul II. Only enough time to take a mental photo or an actual photo, but not both. Most took an actual photo. I suppose I would have done the same, as my memory of this moment is probably the footage I shot from the press platform.
There were press from all over the world. We mostly went off on our own, shooting amongst the pilgrims, but occasionally we would find ourselves corralled in line with the mainstream press. We must have looked out-of-place, because we got a lot of questions from the press like, “What is Fish in the Hand?” or “Are you students?” In one such moment, I struck up a conversation with an audio technician from NBC News. He was less suspicious than the rest and seemed genuinely interested when I explained the film. Larry was friendly and funny and we wound up just chatting to pass the time while waiting. He had gone to film school but had worked most of his career traveling the world working for NBC News. He gave me his card and told me to call him when the film was screening in New York. I kept his card, coming across it every few years at the bottom of a desk drawer. Last spring 2020, while watching NBC News in the height of the COVID-19 pandemic I saw Larry in a Lives Well Lived segment. Our paths only crossed briefly, he was kind and made me feel like I belonged. I know he is very much missed.
The night before the funeral, we rented an apartment just a few blocks from St. Peter’s Square. We knew millions of people were coming and it would be difficult to make our way through the crowds. The morning of the funeral we left at around four a.m. and it took over two hours to make our way through the crowds only a few short blocks. We made our way to the press entrance. I remember not being exactly sure where they were leading us. We went up some very old-looking stairs and found ourselves on top of the colonnades on the left of St. Peter’s Square. I camped out, staking my claim to a prime spot between two of the saint statues. After the initial rush had waned and I was set up and ready, the waiting began. I stood up there for hours before the funeral began, watching St. Peter’s Square fill up, and overflow. The vantage point so high above the crowd was very surreal, and I felt like I was in a scene of the film Wings of Desire. The funeral was very serious and there was a very official ceremony that needed to take place. In some ways it was shocking, but perhaps not surprising that the crowds interrupted the ceremony several times to chant and sing. It was a sober affair for the most part, but there was immediately a groundswell and fervor to make John Paul II a saint. And less than 10 years later he became a canonized saint.
My mother’s grandparents were Italian and it has always been her dream to go to Italy. She was eager to hear about our trip to Rome. I think she imagined seeing a lot of photos of the tourist sights, not hundreds of photos of pilgrims and souvenirs. There was never a lot of sightseeing on these trips we took for the film. We were usually too busy, or too tired after carrying bags of equipment around all day. On many of our trips dinner was the moment we could relax and have a laugh. I remember one of the running jokes on this trip was at dinner. Laura or Delphine would joke, “Ravioli again?” Ravioli seemed to be the only vegetarian option at every restaurant we went to. It wasn’t a problem; who doesn’t like ravioli? We had a lot of crazy adventures while making this film. We met a lot of wonderful and very memorable people. But all these years later it still kind of blows my mind that we were at the Pope’s funeral with millions of people.
Visit our website to stream “The Faithful” at your leisure, or join us Thursday, April 8 for a live screening and Q&A with Annie Berman and Ralph Burns hosted by the USC School of Cinematic Arts. Click here for more info.
