The Shakespeare quote "Find where light in darkness lies" is painted on the lobby wall at the Empire, a handsomely fading 1930s cineplex that faces the sea in a small British town. The setting is the heart of Sam Mendes' drama "Empire of Light," and the quote feels appropriate for a place where audiences sit in shadows, happily mesmerized by the images in a flickering beam. And it nicely sums up the film itself, which goes to difficult places but ultimately leaves its audience with poetry and light.
It's the early 1980s, and middle-aged Hilary (Olivia Colman) is the longtime duty manager for the Empire, where she supervises a staff mostly much younger than she is, and quietly moves through her uneventful life. She lives alone, seems to have no friends or personal connections (other than a secret, subservient affair with the married theater manager, played with oily precision by Colin Firth), and struggles to move beyond some past episodes of mental illness, for which she takes medication that leaves her feeling, in her words, "a bit numb." But Hilary finds a connection with a new employee, Stephen (Micheal Ward), a Black college-age man who's himself feeling alienated in their very homogenous town. A tentative relationship ensues, as does trouble.
"Empire of Light" is clearly a very personal film for Mendes (who has spoken in interviews about his mother's struggles with mental illness) and its minor flaws are the sort of thing that can happen when you're very close to something. Stephen occasionally seems rather too saintly (a couple of scenes involving a wounded pigeon feel a little too spot-on), and the way the cinema's projectionist (Toby Jones) talks about film seems better suited to a reverent documentary than a realistic drama. (Though he does present a rich metaphor to consider: Film consists of static frames with darkness between them, but when it's projected correctly, you don't see the darkness.)
But it's a film full of lovely, poignant detail: Hilary eating dinner alone, with a sole Christmas cracker next to her plate; the quiet, knowing gaze of Stephen's mother (Tanya Moodie); the lovingly filmed shots (the gorgeous cinematography is from longtime Mendes collaborator Roger Deakins) of an empty cinema waiting for dreams to come; the old-school art of watching for the tiny flash that alerts a cinematographer that a reel change is imminent; the way Firth's Mr. Ellis pours Glenfiddich for himself and Hilary, but gives her much less; the tiny smudge of lipstick on Hilary's teeth, indicating her inner turmoil.
And Colman, on whose face the film frequently rests (does anyone in cinema have a more open, guileless smile?), quietly holds the drama in her hands. Her Hilary is fragile, yet touchingly determined to will herself toward the light. "Empire of Light" brings hope at the end — for her, for Stephen, for the impromptu family that forms at the Empire — and poignantly reminds us of the everyday miracle of movies.
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'EMPIRE OF LIGHT'
3 stars (out of 4)
Rating: R (for sexual content, language and brief violence)
Running time: 1:59
How to watch: In theaters Friday
