“Empire of Light” (2022) is set during the winter of 1980 through 1981 in a British coastal town. It revolves around two employees of a worn, but still palatial movie theater, whose glory days are behind it. Only two screens are functioning, but the top floor is locked up and not open to patrons. Hilary (Olivia Colman), the manager and theater veteran, is drawn to Stephen (Micheal Ward), an affable new employee. After a brief bump in their relationship, the attraction becomes mutual, and Stephen befriends everyone who works in the theater, but the surrounding neighborhood, old regulars and young men, are hostile to him because he is black. As they get closer, Stephen discovers Hilary’s troubled history.
After 2016, with the election of Presidon’t in the US and the rise of fascism throughout the world, a lot of directors are trying to use their art to make grand statements. Sam Mendes, who directed and wrote by himself for the first time—maybe don’t do that again, chooses a time when skin heads and xenophobia were on the rise (did it ever dip) in the UK to take his stand. Like “Armageddon Time” (2022), it is apparently somewhat autobiographical since his mother inspired Hilary. All the criticism that fell on “Armageddon Time” should fall on this movie. While I applaud Mendes’ attempt to plumb the depths of his soul and take the angels’ side in our current turbulent times, the narrative has so many flaws that even superb acting and stunning cinematography cannot save it.
I kept asking myself why he felt the need to speak through an older white woman and a young black man instead of writing what he knows. He could have made “Empire of Light” a showcase for an ensemble about a year in the life of a theater as if they are temple attendants devoted to imagination and still included their stories. Mendes wants to write like an underdog when he is not. Why? Does he think that he can fully tell stories that he has no personal insight, as far as I know, in terms of being an immigrant, struggling with mental illness, being a racial or gender minority? Some people can pull it off, but it explains why the story fails to feel coherent. Because Colman is the kind of actor who can stand her ground without Anthony Hopkins overshadowing her in “The Father” and Ward pulls off a role that would go to Sidney Poitier if made in an earlier era without allowing perfection to diminish his humanity into pedestal remoteness and fully inhabits his role, they pull it off, but it took some heavy lifting. Stephen is so perfect instead of ordinary like his fellow employees, which is its own type of stereotype. We need to be perfect to be human.
Hilary dominates “Empire of Light,” but there are moments of empathetic tag when Michael takes the reigns. When they witness each other’s pain, the perspective shifts. Other characters such as insightful Neil (Tom Brooke) and projectionist Norman (Toby Jones), who was given screentime too late, have prose dumps that elaborate on the movie’s themes. If there is a villain besides racism, it is Donald Ellis (Colin Firth), the theater’s head honcho who sexually harasses Hilary. We are supposed to believe that because of Hilary’s struggles with sexual harassment and mental health and Stephen walking around with a bullseye on him, they find an intersectional common ground of sympathy and wanting to help the other though the limits of that sympathy and their relationship become obvious. Hillary does not want pity or to hold back Stephen from a bright future, and Stephen is concerned that Hilary’s mental state means that a relationship would be an added stressor.
Party pooper time: “Empire of Light” never considers Hilary’s actions as sexual harassment even though she is Stephen’s boss, and there is a power disparity. While I am not saying that it is the same as Donald and Hilary’s dynamic, she is not in the clear. I cannot ignore a theme in broader society of older white women, including teachers, taking advantage of their positions of power over males, such as students, many of whom are boys and men of color, but instead of red flags, people call it a romance. Boys and men of color get fetishized for allegedly being well endowed, which remains a silent subtext, and are commonly used in films to help middle aged white women have a sexual awakening. While Mendes was not aiming to make a film like “Good Luck to You, Leo Grande” (2022), which I have not seen, or “Heading South” (2005), if Hilary was not Stephen’s boss, I would have been less on guard through the entire experience. Hilary’s relationship with Stephen manages not to cross the line, but it could have been avoided. Also because Stephen also seems to connect with Janine (Hannah Onslow), a punk theater worker, there is some extraneous tension regarding whether Hilary initially lashes out at Stephen because she is being protective over patrons or angry that she cannot have him.
“Empire of Light” has some moments. The opening shots establish the theater’s routine before Stephen joins them and Hilary’s devotion to her boss’ comfort and the theater’s maintenance, which is why I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt when she lashed out at Stephen for desecrating a sacred place. I was annoyed at the greedy boss who could not appreciate the touch of warm slippers and gobbled up Hilary’s space during after-hours. The big premiere night of “Chariots of Fire” (1981), which evoked the theater’s grand past, ends in a case of secondhand embarrassment that had me covering my eyes as if I was watching a horror movie with the unexpected twist at the end. Hilary’s apartment scenes were heartbreaking and felt authentic. I loved that Mendes never gave a prose dump to spell out Hilary’s childhood trauma though we get a sense from her ranting, but Stephen needed to show a sliver of fright, and Hilary’s glimmer of sanity and protectiveness would have restored everything. The theater workers’ initial sense of wonder giving way to fear was a strong start to the parade/protest scene.
I came to “Empire of Light” for a movie about intergenerational relationships passing on a baton of appreciation for the past, including picture palaces, which I got. I was thrilled that Mendes used holidays to mark the passage of time, starting with the Christmas season and New Year’s, which echoed the actual release date for the film and is a PR touch that I love though I do not think that it worked.
Unexpected plot twist: I wanted to know more about Neil. He had a conscience and took a stand when it would have been easier to stay quiet. He watched other people have lives and stood still, alone but acting out of care and genuine concern. He was never supposed to be the natural successor for Donald—just compare their suits. Why did he choose movies over the neo-Nazis? Mendes missed an opportunity to truly tell an autobiographical story because maybe like Neil, he did the same.
