Império da Luz

The movie "Empire of Light" is filled with metaphors about human relationships. Writer and director Sam Mendes does a beautiful and sensitive job of bringing two socially marginalized individuals together through the art of film, music, and poetry.

Hilary (Olivia Colman), a movie theater manager is suffering from mental illness and Stephen (Micheal Ward), a movie theater helper is suffering racial discrimination in the community. Two worlds apart that together manage to understand each other's pain.

Olivia Colman's interpretation is once again absolutely perfect, she manages to convey all the pain of her character without uttering a word, only through her body language.

A beautiful soundtrack that helps enhance the mood of the movie.

...Well... at least that's what could have been. When the movie opens and sets us back into the late 70s and early 80s, seeing a classic cinema, with some craftsmanship behind it, that we forgot how to appreciate. With beautiful cinematography and lighting, this really makes you melancholic... that's the good part...

Unfortunately I checked my watch so many times during this movie, wondering when it would finally reach the 2h mark and therefore the end. It's easily 30mins to long and while it has a VERY important message that is still relevant today unfortunately, it somehow get's lost in its own melancholia, but not in a Lars von Trier way, just in "are we there yet?" way.

While it surely has its beautiful moments and lovely dialogues along the way, it did only drag me in for about 2, 3 mins and had me lost in the other scenes for some reason. It feels like this movie wants to be to many things at the same time and can't decide where to put its focus point.

You're trapped inside a world of make believe, where people take their seats to be deceived, lose themselves in fantasy, reels conjure alchemy, this is no paradise or palace, that you perceive. Behind closed doors, torment and distress are at play, where advantages are taken day by day, but you plough your lonely furrow, cage the rage, the pain, the sorrow, then someone new arrives, projects a fresh pathway.

I spent two hours spellbound at the incredible Olivia Coleman, who takes you into the unstable world of Hilary in early 1980s Britain. More than ably supported by Michael Ward, the pair paint a picture of the challenges of the day, from different backgrounds and perspectives, that rollercoast your emotions to extremes. Great story, great direction and great performances - what more do you need from a film?

At times, it's intimate and intricate. At others, it's strikingly hollow.

Firstly, highest praises must be given to Roger Deakins' lush cinematography and Reznor & Ross's ethereal, atmospheric musical score. Both these elements added such a rich sensory element to the film that elevates the experience high above what's on the page.

Because what's on the page is a disjointed collection of individually compelling pieces.

Olivia Colman and the rest of the cast really do give it their all and bring a great deal of life to their half-baked characters. Nearly all of them have backstory and struggles introduced, but not much, if anything, is ever done with it.

The "story" is made up of runtime-padding dramatic beats that always begin in a very strong manner but are always either resolved without any real struggle or conflict or are abandoned entirely. No consequences are ever seen or felt, and it dampens the impact of the whole film. I felt nothing when the credits rolled.

Also, Colin Firth is woefully miscast as the cinema manager; not because he's bad in the movie, he's great in the movie. But because he has such limited screen time and has such a thankless, undemanding roll. It's far beneath an actor of his calibre and experience. He's tragically under-utilised.

And that's how I would describe just about every element of this film: not bad, but under-utilised.

Sometimes a movie has all the elements of greatness in place but somehow just can't seem to pull all the pieces together. Such is the case with writer-director Sam Mendes's latest offering, an unfocused mélange of story threads that seem haphazardly strung together in a 1980s period piece love story about the staff of a British resort town cinema infused with elements involving mental illness and growing racial violence and intolerance at the time. Sound like a mishmash of unrelated storylines? You bet, and the picture probably comes off better than it should, given the strengths of Roger Deakins's superb cinematography, Trent Reznor's ethereal score, and the outstanding performances of its ensemble cast, most notably Olivia Colman, a virtual sure-bet for an Oscar nomination. As in other works, such as "Revolutionary Road" (2008), Mendes has a knack for getting the most out of his resources even when the material comes up short, a trick he successfully pulls off again here. It's unfortunate, however, that this obvious lover of film couldn't manage to combine these elements in a way here that matches the brilliance of his truly great works, such as "American Beauty" (1999), "Skyfall" (2012) and "1917" (2019). Had the script gone through another round of revisions, that might have been the case, given that the writing really proves to be the downfall of this offering. For all its strengths, however, "Empire of Light" nevertheless comes up a disappointing effort, one that, regrettably, doesn't live up to the pre-release hype showered upon it.