BD Film Club: Empire of Light revisited

Empire of Light (2022), director Sam Mendes’s most recent film, is a mesmerising journey through the human condition, illuminated by flickering seashore lights. Set against the backdrop of 1980s England, specifically the quaint but visibly declining seaside town of Margate, Mendes skilfully crafts a narrative that not only explores love, longing, and the bittersweet passage of time but also intimately connects with the nostalgic charm of Margate and its iconic Dreamland amusement park.

The choice of Margate as the film’s actual shooting location infuses the narrative with a sense of place and history that is both tangible and evocative. From the windswept beaches to the bustling promenade, with the vibrant neon lights of the arcade or the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore, the sights and sounds of the town come alive on screen, enveloping the audience in a world that is at once familiar and enchanting. Dreamland, with its vintage rides and faded grandeur, serves as a metaphor for the fleeting nature of happiness and the relentless march of time. As the characters navigate the winding pathways of the amusement park, they are also navigating the complexities of their own lives, their hopes and dreams mirroring the faded glory of the seaside town itself.

Central to the narrative is the Empire cinema, a place of both work and refuge for the main characters. In the movie scenes with the coastal weather and neon lights, the building stands as a monument to a previous era and a symbol of a rapidly changing Britain. As the characters navigate its labyrinthine corridors and dimly lit screening rooms, they are confronted with the ghosts of the past, their dramas unfolding against the backdrop of faded movie posters and flickering projectors.

The fictional cinema scenes in Empire of Light were brought to life by transforming the real-life Dreamland Cinema, where the iconic “DREAMLAND” signage was replaced by the letters “EMPIRE” for the exterior shots. Designed by J.B. Iles, Julian Leathart, and W.F. Granger, the building was erected on the site of a former theatre and completed in 1935, boasting a grand cinema with 2,050 seats and a 500-seat restaurant. Its facade, adorned with brick cladding and concrete ornamentation, and its travertine marble steps and panelling at the entrance, stand as testaments to the radical transition of architectural design in the early 20th century. Distinguished by a vertical fin attached to the 25m corner tower, the exterior of the cinema shows the influence of expressionism, emphasising symbolic, distorted forms that push architectural dominance beyond its contextual reality.

Stephen, played by Michael Ward, is a young black man longing to escape the daily adversity he faces, and aspiring to be an architect. His ambition is evocative of the real-life figure Stephen Lawrence, who also had a dream to be an architect but tragically fell victim to a racist attack in 1993. Stephen’s journey in the narrative is infused with optimism and hope, yet it is continually overshadowed by the harsh realities of a racially prejudiced society.

This duality is poignantly illustrated when Norman (Toby Jones) explains the phi phenomenon to Stephen, stating, “(Because) it’s just static frames, with darkness in between. But there’s a little flaw in your optic nerve so that if I run the film at 24 frames per second, you don’t see the darkness.” Through this interplay of light and shadow, Mendes subtly weaves a commentary on the persistent racism and violence faced by black individuals in Britain, while paying tribute to the cinema’s ability to create “an illusion of motion, an illusion of life.”

It is within the walls of the Empire that the characters find solace and sanctuary, their shared love of cinema serving as a bond that transcends the passage of time. Roger Deakins’s masterful cinematography ensures that every detail of the cinema setting is thoroughly captured on screen. From the ornate geometric frames and carpet adorning the entranceway to the plush velvet curtains and seats of the auditorium, every aspect of the building reflects the grandeur and elegance of the Art Deco style. In front of its polished interior lies a world of hidden tensions and simmering emotions, as Hilary (Olivia Colman) and Stephen grapple with the complexities of their own lives amidst the faded glamour of the cinema. When they sit in the darkness of the auditorium, watching the flickering images dance across the screen, they are transported to another world, their own troubles momentarily forgotten in the magic of the movies.

But the cinema is more than just a place of escape; it is also a repository of memories and emotions, a tangible reminder of the past. As the characters confront their personal demons, they are forced to reckon with the ghosts of the cinema itself, their own histories intertwining with the building’s storied past.

In the end, Empire of Light is a film that celebrates the power of cinema to transport us to another time and place. With the place and the architecture not merely serving as a backdrop to the story but being characters at the centre of the narrative, the film invites us to step back in time and immerse ourselves in the ballad of a bygone era, to witness a tribute to the enduring power of cinema to illuminate the human experience.

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