by Foster Harlfinger, Contributing Writer
Following the well-deserved success of 1917, director Sam Mendes has caught the “magic of cinema” bug with his ambitious Empire of Light. By this, of course, I refer to the post-lockdown bug that seems to be affecting an increasing number of film directors, from Spielberg to Chazelle, in which they release a film that in some way illustrates the magic of cinema.
Hilary Small (Olivia Colman), a depressed but dutiful employee of an independent cinema off the South Coast of England, finds herself taken aback by her theater’s latest hire, Stephen (Micheal Ward). In spite of a noticeable age gap and differing backgrounds, Hilary and Stephen find themselves taken with one another, and they develop an unlikely romance behind the closed doors of the Empire theater.
Mendes, as usual, has drawn together a dynamite collection of cast and crew members at the height of their creative abilities. Unfortunately, the film bites off more than it can chew with its overstuffed screenplay and lukewarm direction, which none of the film’s cast and crew are able to rise above. Mental illness, sexual harassment, racism, English politics — you name it! Empire of Light engages with just about every serious subject matter in the book, yet it fails to do any one of them justice.
For as many topical issues as the film tackles, the frustratingly vanilla approach to its story results in a confounding viewing experience that might be frustrating if it weren’t so dull. It is never enjoyable to criticize a director’s passion project, particularly when the story is as personal as Empire of Light seems to be for Mendes, yet the film — in fact, his first solo screenplay — never settles on a singular cohesive theme for its audience to take away. If anything, the its depiction of the power of cinema feels like an undeveloped and irrelevant footnote, and despite committed performances from Colman and company, the catharsis for Hilary’s character is simply not believable enough to warrant any sort of emotional response. Whether it be lipstick on teeth to suggest Hillary’s loss of control or emotional monologues from veteran British actors with less than five minutes of screen time, the clichés in Empire of Light feel obvious to the point of parody.
It is lucky, then, that Mendes has developed such strong professional relationships to attract the likes of cinematographer Roger Deakins and composing duo Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross to the film. For all its faults, Empire of Light looks and sounds gorgeous. The near-silent opening sequence as Hilary opens the grand Empire theater makes one lament the film that could have been. Sadly, though Empire of Light’s technical crafts and performances may be impressive in isolation, they feel so tonally at odds with one another that it can be difficult to appreciate their work. A handful of compelling performances from supporting players like Tom Brooke, Toby Jones, and Colin Firth, along with beautiful production design and cinematography, gratefully provide just enough bright spots to keep the film watchable. As a whole, however, Empire of Light remains a well-acted, well-shot, well-intentioned misfire.
Score: 3/10
Empire of Light is currently playing in theaters
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