In front, there is the sea. The Empire stands on the promenade of this English seaside resort.
This cinema has obviously had its heyday.
The Art Deco building is huge, with its hall carpeted with geometric patterns, its two staircases, its sweets counter.
The 1980s were not at their best.
The room on the top floor is abandoned.
Pigeons have taken refuge there.
Injured birds heal themselves by slipping them into a sock.
Hillary (Olivia Colman) and Stephen (Micheal Ward) work there.
He just arrived.
It is part of the furniture.
He's black, which isn't easy under Thatcher.
A solid depression torments her and a relapse always seems possible.
Their loneliness will mutually warm each other.
There will be ups and downs, misunderstanding and tenderness.
Hillary is a model employee, agreeing to do certain treats in the office of her unpleasant, married boss (Colin Firth, in a gray suit, pouting in disgust).
Racism is not an empty word and when skinheads demonstrate, it ends in blood.
These two misfits love each other in secret, build sand castles on a distant beach, know that their romance cannot last.
One New Year's Eve,
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With
Empire of Light
, Sam Mendes, who signs his first screenplay alone, shows the life of these dark rooms which already belonged to the past, with their red velvet curtain bordered in yellow, their felt armchairs, their smell of popcorn .
Smoking was still allowed and the swirls of tobacco swayed in the beam of light.
The projectionist explains the magic of his job.
Some customers are undrinkable.
An aesthetic of nostalgia
Fragile, destitute, Olivia Colman offers her face of sacrifice, between two visits to the doctor, a session of
Raging Bull
or the
Blues Brothers
.
Social services are on the lookout.
The borderline bachelor takes dance lessons, disrupts the preview of
Chariots of Fire
, jumps on the microphone, quotes a poem by Auden.
She locks herself in her apartment, is no longer there for anyone.
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Sam Mendes pays tribute to his mother, who suffered from a similar mental illness.
He also sends a superb love letter to the seventh art.
In a few images, it says a lot.
Emotion does not spread across the screen.
She stands out from time to time, with a discretion that is perhaps entirely British.
How to paint such distress?
Probably by evoking another crack, that of Peter Sellers in
Welcome Mister Chance
.
There would be too many things to mention in this marvel.
There unfolds an aesthetic of nostalgia.
Sadness and beauty are at home there, in equal parts.
There is even poetry in this
Last Session
, fish and chips version.
In our time, this is unforgivable.
Don't forget the usher, please.
The
Figaro
rating : 3.5/4