‘Empire Of Light’: Toronto Review

Dir/scr: Sam Mendes. UK. 2022. 119mins.

Sam Mendes’ beautifully old-fashioned, emotional ode to cinema, and the cinemas of his youth, plays out on the seafront of Margate in the early 1980s. Empire Of Light, which the 1917 director wrote and directed, may go down the Cinema Paradiso route of hailing cinema as a communal panacea to whatever ails you (mental illness and racism in this case). But a well-drawn and -acted relationship between two troubled souls – the duty manager of the Empire Cinema, Hilary (Olivia Colman) and its latest employee Stephen (Micheal Ward) – turn this film into a treasure worthy of its own magnificently-crumbling Art Deco Screens 1 and 2.

Its message of love, tolerance and finding family wherever you can should make an impact in darkened rooms wherever it plays

Roger Deakins’ camera and some redolent, detailed production design from Mark Tildesley and his team breathe life back into the neglected Margate of 1980 as it moves into a new decade. Its period setting and the well-written friendship – and more – between a clearly-unwell middle-aged woman and a young man with his own problems, certainly mark this out for awards notice in all technical categories. It’s the performances that linger, though, well after the Empire shuts its doors. Noting that Olivia Colman delivers a magnificent performance is pro-forma at this stage of her career, but her Hilary feels real, at all points in her journey, and she works well with young actor Micheal Ward (Top Boy) to illuminate his touching arc as a young Black man living through a racially troubled time in a seaside town known to attract violence.

Mendes corrals almost all the elements of a somewhat-sprawling yarn together well (it runs just shy of two hours), and its December 9 US release, followed by a Bafta-friendly UK launch on Jan 13, indicates that Searchlight has hopes for its recognition. The filmmaker gives himself time to develop both Hilary and Stephen’s arcs, and also the warmth and family atmosphere (for better and worse) at this giant seafront edifice, where tickets cost £1.50 and The Blues Brothers is playing as the film starts. ‘Cinema. Ballroom. Restaurant. Licensed’ flashes the neon sign on the Margate landmark Dreamland, repurposed for this film and the third character in it. ‘Find Light Where Darkness Lies’ is her motto, but already she has seen better days. The restaurant at the top of the building, along with theatres 3 and 4, have been shut off and left to the pigeons.

The mentally ill Hilary and the bright, searching, tender young man Stephen are deftly written and acted, and their issues are dealt with in an enlightened manner. Cast adrift from her family, Hilary only has The Empire in her life, where she is being sexually taken advantage of by its married manager Donald Ellis (Colin Firth, all brown suits, and kipper ties). Stephen, close to his single mum, a Trinidadian nurse (Tanya Moodie) and rejected from college, is making his first steps out into a white world which serially rejects him, despite the blended promise of his favourite ska band The Beat. Colman may get the headline breakdown, at the south coast premiere of Chariots Of Fire, no less, with Stephen acting as sturdy ballast, but Ward gives him a heart which is open and empathetic.

Mendes adds a dollop too much sugary meringue with the addition of projectionist Norman (Toby Jones) as a twinkly-eyed geezer keen on his craft and given to making speeches about frames and light. The idea that Hilary, who doesn’t watch the films which show in her theatres, just needs to sit down and go into the light, is an understandable sentiment given Sam Mendes’ personal relationship with cinema, but this is the least successful element of the film. (Although when it comes to awards, it’s definitely a plus for voters.) The Empire is certainly a huge part of the Hilary and Stephen’s relationship; the posters, the projection booth, the sweets on sale, the clips of dialogue and the sounds of the Pearl & Dean ad all give beautiful shading to this story. Yet, when the healing power of cinema is foregrounded like this, it seems a trite answer to Hilary’s terrible struggle with mental illness and Stephen’s brutal experience of racism.

Still,  dewy-eyed emotion never hurts with the target audience for Empire Of Light and its release date, coupled with the snowy Christmas and New Year setting of its initial reels, should prove a lure for older audiences who have shied away from cinema since the pandemic, and, themselves, are film fans who well remember all the pictures the Empire is showing. Empire Of Light is a sentimental film – the piano-heavy score from Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross advertises that from the opening bars – but its message of love, tolerance and finding family wherever you can should make an impact in darkened rooms wherever it plays.