‘Empire Of Light’ review: Dir. Sam Mendes (2023)

Hot from the festival circuit, Sam Mendes’ latest arrives at the peak of awards season. Empire of Light is a deeply personal tale for the accomplished filmmaker, who scripts and directs a sometimes moving love letter to cinema and the period in which it is set.

There’s something very special at the core of Sam Mendes’ latest offering if you’re someone who grew up in the shadow of cinema in the 1980s. It was time that was largely devoid of multinational multiplex chains and picture houses in retail parks. Britain was, at that time, more of a land of independent cinemas and even if your town had a chain cinema, chances are the most screens it had were three. In my home town, the ABC in the town square is a place I fondly remember visiting every Saturday with my friends to catch the latest offering, and my memories of seeing the latest Spielberg or Zemeckis film, queues stretched around the block, still so very vivid. Those times and that cinema are long gone (it is now a Wetherspoons), but Mendes’ film transports us back to that time, specifically 1981 and a southern coastal town where the fictional Empire of the title sits on the seafront.

Olivia Colman is Hilary Small, team leader at said cinema who we know from the off is suffering from personal issues, going through an apparent breakdown prior to us meeting her in the opening scenes. She leads a team of workers dedicated to their jobs, from the projectionist Norman (Toby Jones), all of the way down to front of house ushers/ ticket sellers Neil (Tom Brooke) and Janine (Hannah Onslow). There’s also the chief of the establishment Donald Ellis (Colin Firth) who Hilary is having an affair, which is largely confined to quiet moments in his office ‘wanking him off into a tea cup’ as it is so eloquently put later in the film in one its most entertaining scenes.

The dynamic is changed with the arrival of new ticket-seller Stephen (Micheal Ward) and there is an immediate attraction between him and Hilary. The film charts that relationship against the backdrop of this sweeping, imposing cinema complex, the films it hosts at that time (movies like Chariots of Fire, Stir Crazy and Being There all feature), as well as other social issues, including the unbearable racism of ’80s Britain, and an ever-changing world where the future is uncertain.

Perfectly timed with some very relatable subject matter, Mendes’ film, which he also scripted, is a largely enjoyable affair. There’s a lot of stuff that is still alarmingly relevant, from the social issues noted above as well as the decline in audiences going to see films in a theatre environment – two of the screens in the Empire remain unused and pigeon-infested due to a drop in numbers. The filmmaker attempts to shine a light on a period in which the industry started to struggle, but also shows us that there is hope and indeed light at the end of the dark tunnel.

Sure, in places, the script is cliched and trite, but the film’s message urges you along. There are some truly superb performances, particularly from Colman and Ward who are both outstanding – and then there is Roger Deakins’ cinematography which, as always, is simply outstanding.

A film that’ll make you miss the smell of that inviting foyer, local ads playing before the main trailers; the hand-placed letters on the boards on the theatre facia, and the flickering 35mm frames presented at every showing.

A feature that is sure to appeal to some audience members more than others, Empire of Light is a film to see in the grandest auditorium you can find. Unlike Mendes’ last film, 1917, this is far from a grand affair, and very laboured in places, but this is still a worthy theatrical experience capturing a time long gone, one that has the constant message of re-enforcing the importance of cinema bleeding all of the way through it. And who, at this current time, can argue with any of that.

Empire of Light is released in UK cinemas on 9th January.

Empire of Light was reviewed at the 2022 Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival