Empire of Light is a beautiful love letter to the cinema

The Princess of Wales Theater was the perfect venue for the Canadian premiere of Realm of Light Bee Toronto International Film Festival 2022. Written and directed by Sam Mendes, Realm of Light recalls the days of seeing a movie in a theater equipped with plush, red velvet seats, high lights and a marquee. Indeed, the film is Mendes’ most autobiographical to date, written during, according to his anecdote during the film’s post-premiere Q&A, the COVID-19-related lockdown in 2020 and inspired by his love of movies in his childhood and, more importantly, yet, his mother.


Realm of Light Olivia Colman plays Hilary Small, the duty manager of the titular Empire Theater, who opens the cinema to visitors every morning and oversees front-of-house operations, from counting ticket entries to serving concessions. It’s a simple life, but one that suits her, especially after returning from a long leave of absence due to her struggle with mental health. Her life, both inside and out, is effectively changed when Stephen (Micheal Ward), a young black man, starts working at Empire. Set in 1980s Britain, Mendes’ film explores the unique bond Hilary and Stephen form at a time when racism was rampant and mental health was less understood.

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Realm of Light is essentially a love letter to cinema and at its core contains a moving and compelling romance that underlines our inherent need to be understood and our desire for connection. Coupled with Roger Deakins’ cinematography, with his trademark precision and ability to capture and evoke feelings, and a compelling piano-based score by Trent Reznor and Atticus, the film is a masterclass from Mendes in the creating a deeply human story against the backdrop of art, one that beautifully portrays our love of movies and, most importantly, what we take out and take with us when the lights come on and we go back to the real world. Reverently and sincerely, Realm of Light is the perfect film for and about film lovers and visitors.


Olivia Colman absolutely stars as Hilary Small

Simply put, Colman is a gift to the cinema. Although she was stunned in movies like The favorite, The fatherand The Prodigal Daughtershe’s more enchanting than ever in Realm of Light. So much that Variety has reported a likely successful upcoming awards season for the actress. Colman’s emotional agility is fully expressed here, starting out as quiet and subdued (her ever-expressive eyes do all the talking) before delivering an explosive, yet tender performance as Hilary’s mental state deteriorates. Even through the outbursts, Colman’s performance naturally cuts through to the person below, demanding compassion and empathy rather than reprimand. Relative newcomer Ward (who starred in Lena Waithe’s earlier this year) Beauty) more than his own acting like Stephen. He gives the character a seriousness that is instantly charming. At the same time, he possesses a degree of gravitas beyond his age and thus excels at portraying the dark moments in Stephen’s arc. Colman and Ward are fireworks on screen together.

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Every character in Empire of Light feels needed

Rounding out the cast include Toby Jones as Norman (the theater projectionist), Colin Firth as the dowdy manager Mr. Ellis and Tanya Moodie as Stephen’s mother Delia. Moodie, in particular, appears more than halfway through the film in the film, but controls the screen despite her minimal screen time, bringing (without spoiling anything) a mixture of grace and resignation to Delia at a pivotal moment in Stephen’s arc. It’s a testament to Mendes’ script – which is quite ambitious in its integration of many current themes and events – that every character in Realm of Light feels necessary, no matter how small or little seen. They all have a heart and help ground the film in what matters most: connection and community.

Realm of Light feels like an old-fashioned movie in the end, and it does so without a hint of condescension. It is indulgent without being complacent. Epic, but not stuffy. It’s a tribute to cinema, not as an affirmation of tradition in a rapidly evolving industry, but rather as an opportunity to reminisce and even remember why we watch, write and make films in the first place. The last few movies Mendes has made – 1917, Ghost, skyfall – have been grand spectacles rooted in destruction and humanity at its worst (or at least the threat of it). Realm of Light feels just as big, and for where we are now – especially as we’ve been trying to move forward in recent years, insecure, damaged and healing – it’s just the kind of movie we need.

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