This is a heartwarming love letter to film, starring a double helping of national treasures and written and directed by Sam Mendes, in which a motley crew of employees band together to resuscitate the fortunes of a crumbling art deco picture palace. However, Empire Of Light is hardly the cosy, popcorn-and-slippers-fest you may imagine.
It’s 1981. Hilary (Olivia Colman) is the downtrodden duty manager at The Empire, a big under-populated cinema on Margate’s beachfront. Colin Firth plays her boss, with whom Hilary has a secret, surprisingly sexual affair.
Stephen (Michael Ward), a young, black want tobe architect who sparks an unusual attraction with Hilary, stumbles into this twilight realm. They are both outsiders.
Hilary is battling an illness that Stephen just slowly recognises, while Stephen is subjected to a daily barrage of racial hatred that soon takes a frightening turn.
It’s a film that can’t be neatly pigeon-holed because it’s tender in the most unexpected spots. While Colman’s performance steals the show, Ward extracts warmth and depth from sketchier material.
In between them, Toby Jones’s projectionist pops up to rhapsodise about the miracle of celluloid, which ‘creates an illusion of motion, an illusion of life, so you don’t see the blackness. You only see a bright beam.’
You don’t feel the same tingling watching a flat-screen TV at home, do you?
Our verdict
Fall back in love with cinema-going with this choice bit of Bafta-bait.
Empire Of Light (15) is out now in cinemas