In “Empire of Light,” Sam Mendes casts a nostalgic eye toward the movies. Like several other auteurs this winter season, Mendes has crafted what could be considered a “love letter to cinema” (see also: Steven Spielberg’s “The Fabelmans,” Damien Chazelle’s “Babylon”), but “Empire of Light” is less of a mash note to moviemaking than a tribute to the theater itself, that cathedral of collective dreams born by a single beam of light.
The Empire in question is the fictional Empire Cinema in Margate, a coastal city in England, the year is 1980, and the story concerns the unlikely, and complicated, friendship between Hilary (Olivia Colman), the duty manager at the Empire, and Stephen (Micheal Ward), the new ticket taker. Movies are their business, and the backdrop to their relationship, which blooms among the popcorn and candy, and takes flight in the Empire’s abandoned upstairs club room, a once glorious space now serving as a pigeon roost.
“Empire of Light” is shot beautifully by the legendary cinematographer Roger Deakins, who contrasts the blueish seaside exterior light with the warm, rich interior of the Empire outfitted in golds and reds, the staff clad in aubergine. It is a stunningly gorgeous film, at once airy and earthy, the proud, yet crumbling glamour of the Empire placing us in this moment in time.
