Film Review - Empire of Light
Images courtesy of 20th Century Studios.
For a film relentlessly marketed as an uplifting ode-to-cinema (following in the footsteps of Stephen Spielberg’s Oscar-darling The Fabelmans and Damien Chazelle’s far more divisive Babylon), Sam Mendes’ Empire of Light is surprisingly melancholy. It follows Hilary (Colman), a mild-mannered duty manager at a beautiful movie theatre in a small coastal English town called ‘the Empire’. She’s introduced as a bit of an oddball, manning the concessions stand while trying to fit in with the younger employees. “What’s the worst thing you’ve found in the theatre?” one of them asks. “We had a dead body once,” she replies, “Had a heart attack during Smokey and the Bandit.” They all have a good giggle, and surrounded by the beautiful felt couches and sweeping staircases, it’s hard to dismiss the indelible magic of a gorgeous cinema. But behind closed doors this decadence melts away, as Hilary reveals another floor filled with dilapidated furniture and smashed mirrors.
As we learn, the two-faced Empire is a clunky metaphor for Hilary’s mental state; she suffers from bipolar disorder – a challenge in 1980s small-town England – and her British propensity to “keep calm and carry on” does little to help. “Do you have anyone to talk to?” a doctor asks, “You know, friends and such?” “Oh yes!” Hilary replies gleefully. Cut to Hilary alone at home on Christmas Day, a Christmas cracker unopened on the table, and it’s clear that she’s lying. Thus, the film frames itself as a character study of someone dealing with mental health problems, a topic both Mendes (1917) and Colman (The Lost Daughter) have proven they can navigate with sensitivity. And it starts promisingly, with Hilary’s friendly outward personality contrasted with her depressing introverted private life through some beautifully disheartening montages. She’s struggling, and Mendes emphasises that it’s much harder to struggle alone. Conversely, the gloomy subtext is buoyed by moments of much-needed levity from the charismatic cinema staff, particularly the cheeky Neil (Brooke). However, Mendes makes the mistake of overreaching, complicating any mental health commentary with too many competing themes.
The Empire hires Stephen (Ward), a young black man who dreams of “going off to college” to become an architect. He’s a dreamer, but struggles with the racial and civil unrest permeating throughout England. Thus, Mendes expands on an already complex mental health exposé by attempting to explore racial injustice through Stephen. ‘Ambitious’ would be the nicest way to describe this thematic combination. ‘A tonal mess’ would be more accurate. The story pivots too quickly to dig into one topic or the other, leaving the message feeling unfinished for both. Whenever Hilary’s mental wellbeing stabilises, Stephen encounters racial discrimination. Whenever Stephen recovers from a racial attack, Hilary deteriorates. And so on and so forth for the entirety of the film. This balancing act is further compounded by the need to navigate an unlikely romantic relationship, and the seemingly omnipresent references to “movie magic". There are just too many competing messages, which detracts from the effectiveness of all of them.
Therefore, despite Ward and Colman’s impressive performances, and some beautiful Roger Deakins cinematography, Empire of Light is unfortunately weighed down by a messy screenplay that can’t untangle itself before the credits.
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Empire of Light is screening in cinemas from Thursday 2nd March. For tickets and more info, click here.