Name: Empire of Light
Genre: Drama, Romance
Released: 2022-12-09T00:00:00+00:00
Cast: Olivia Colman, Micheal Ward, Toby Jones, Colin Firth, Tom Brooke

The flickering glow of a cinema screen casts long shadows across Olivia Colman‘s face in “Empire of Light,” Sam Mendes‘ 2022 romantic drama that wears its love for film on its sleeve. Set against the gritty backdrop of an English seaside town in the early 1980s, this is a story about human connection, mental health, and the magic of cinema—though not always in equal measure. Mendes, known for his meticulous direction (“1917,” “Skyfall”), crafts a film that is undeniably beautiful but ultimately feels incomplete, a tribute to cinema that sometimes forgets to be a compelling drama in its own right.

The Empire Cinema, with its towering screens and plush velvet seats, becomes the heart of the film—a character as much as any human presence. Mendes and cinematographer Roger Deakins (“Blade Runner 2049,” “1917”) bathe the cinema in a warm, nostalgic glow, making it feel like a relic from a bygone era of Hollywood grandeur. The film’s most evocative moments come when Colman’s Hilary, the cinema’s duty manager, wanders its disused upper floor, her solitude mirrored in the empty seats and dusty projectors. These scenes are visually stunning, capturing the essence of Mendes’ love letter to cinema. However, the film often lingers too long on these cinematic shots, sacrificing narrative momentum for aesthetic beauty.

At its core, “Empire of Light” is a character drama, and it’s here that the film finds its strongest footing. Colman, an Oscar winner for “The Favourite,” delivers a performance that is as nuanced as it is heartbreaking. She captures Hilary’s manic highs and crushing lows with a raw vulnerability, making her character’s struggles with bipolar disorder feel painfully real. When Hilary impulsively kisses Stephen (Micheal Ward) on the cinema roof during New Year’s Eve fireworks, Colman’s performance is electric, capturing the raw desperation and longing that drive her character.

Ward, a breakout star of “Blue Story,” brings depth to Stephen, portraying his quiet strength and resilience in the face of racism with subtlety and grace. Their chemistry, however, feels forced at times, their conversations stilted, and their passion more performative than genuine. The film’s central romance is fraught with tension—both racial and mental health-related—but never quite ignites. Mendes tries to weave in themes of racism, mental health, and the power of cinema, but these threads often feel tacked on rather than organically intertwined.

The supporting cast is equally impressive. Toby Jones (“Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy”) brings a quiet dignity to Norman, the cinema’s projectionist, while Colin Firth (“A Single Man”) delivers a compelling performance as Donald Ellis, Hilary’s manipulative boss. Crystal Clarke shines as Ruby, Stephen’s first love, bringing warmth and authenticity to her scenes.

Yet for all its performances strengths, “Empire of Light” struggles to find its narrative footing. The film’s pacing is uneven, meandering through its two-hour runtime without building the momentum needed to carry the story forward. Key plot points—such as Hilary’s mental health deterioration and Stephen’s assault—are handled abruptly and without the emotional weight they deserve. The film’s final act, set against the backdrop of the Chariots of Fire premiere, attempts to tie together its themes but ultimately falls short. The resolution of Hilary and Stephen’s relationship feels rushed and unsatisfying, leaving viewers with more questions than answers.

Mendes’ homage to cinema is undeniably sincere, but it often feels more like a tribute than a reinvention. “Empire of Light” aspires to be a modern classic, a film that captures the essence of cinema’s golden age while exploring contemporary themes. However, it ultimately settles for mediocrity, a film that contains moments of brilliance but fails to coalesce into a cohesive whole.

The film’s themes—racism, mental health, and the power of cinema—are undeniably important, but they often feel tacked on rather than organically intertwined. The film’s exploration of racism is particularly problematic, reduced to isolated incidents of harassment and assault without a deeper examination of systemic issues. Similarly, Hilary’s mental health struggles are portrayed with sensitivity but ultimately feel underdeveloped, her manic episodes and institutionalization treated as plot points rather than opportunities for deeper character exploration.

“Empire of Light” is a film that will resonate most strongly with cinephiles, those who appreciate the magic of cinema and the power of human connection. It’s a film about the transformative potential of film, about how movies can bring people together and provide solace in times of turmoil. However, it’s also a film that feels distinctly old-fashioned, its themes and narrative structure harkening back to a bygone era of Hollywood drama.

In the end, “Empire of Light” is a film that aspires to greatness but ultimately falls short. It contains moments of brilliance—Colman’s performance, Deakins’ cinematography, the evocative setting—but these are undermined by a lackluster script and uneven pacing. Mendes’ love letter to cinema is undeniably sincere, but it often feels more like a tribute than a reinvention.

“Empire of Light” is a film that will leave viewers with mixed feelings. It’s a beautiful, visually stunning tribute to the magic of cinema, but one that ultimately fails to deliver on its narrative and thematic promises. It’s a film for cinephiles, for those who appreciate the power of human connection and the transformative potential of film.