Film

Empire of Light

Name: Empire of Light
Genre: Drama, Romance
Released: 2022
Cast: Olivia Colman, Micheal Ward, Toby Jones, Colin Firth, Tom Brooke

Period drama

A quietly devastating portrait of loneliness in a declining seaside town. Olivia Colman anchors this 1980s-set drama as Hilary, a cinema manager whose carefully maintained life fractures when she meets a younger employee. It's intimate and melancholic, sometimes funny, never sentimental. For anyone who's felt the weight of everyday disappointment and the strange salvation of human connection.

TMDb rating

3.3

Should you watch it?

Watch it if you love films about cinemas themselves, where the picture house is a character and the flicker of projected light carries as much feeling as the dialogue, and you don't mind a slow, melancholy drift to get there.

Skip it if you want a tidy plot with clear stakes, since this is more interested in mood, texture and quiet moments than in driving toward a resolution you can see coming.

What it asks of you: Settle in for just under two hours at an unhurried pace, with long, soft-lit scenes that let feelings build slowly rather than arriving in sharp beats.

Not sure? Find tonight's pick in a minute.

If you liked this

Carol2015

A tender, visually sumptuous romance about two women finding each other across social boundaries. Like Empire of Light, it understands that love can be quiet, complicated, and worth the cost. Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara are extraordinary.

But The pacing is deliberately slow, and if you're looking for plot momentum or conventional drama beats, this will frustrate you. Some find it remote.

Another Year2010

Mike Leigh's unflinching look at marriage, middle age, and the friends circling a happy couple's life. It has Empire of Light's refusal to sentimentalise human messiness, and the same dark humour running beneath sadness.

But Bleak and sometimes cruel. The characters aren't likeable, and Leigh doesn't soften them for comfort. Not a feel-good film by any measure.

Mulholland Drive2001

Lynch's Los Angeles dream haunts like Empire's seaside world—a place where people collide and connection feels both urgent and impossible. It has that same undercurrent of psychological fragility and the ache of unmet desire.

But Surreal, difficult, and notoriously unrewarding if you need plot clarity. Some scenes are genuinely unsettling rather than sad. Demands active attention.

Not sure tonight? Get a pick in a minute, starting from Empire of Light

The wildcard

Something you would not have found on your own.

Stalker1979

Both are about intelligent people isolated by their own consciousness, unable to reach what they want even when it's standing in front of them. Both suggest that sometimes the journey inward matters more than external change.

Andrei Tarkovsky's philosophical science-fiction masterpiece about desire, meaning, and what we're actually searching for. It's about journeys that don't go anywhere—very much like Hilary's internal voyage. Visually hypnotic, morally complex, unforgettable.

But 163 minutes of deliberate, meditative pacing. Nothing explodes. Most of the film is people walking through empty spaces and talking. If you need conventional drama or plot, you will hate it.

Under the Skin2014

Glazer's film shares Empire's interest in isolation and the slow accumulation of feeling. Scarlett Johansson's performance is almost completely internal—you watch someone begin to understand themselves. Visually hypnotic and deeply strange.

But Very little dialogue, minimal plot. If you need a story that moves or a character you understand quickly, this will feel impenetrable. Long static scenes will test your patience.

Love Streams1984

John Cassavetes's late masterpiece about a brother and sister's fractured lives in 1980s America. Raw, unpolished, and devastatingly alive. It captures that same sense of people grasping for connection they can't quite hold.

But Deliberately rough around the edges. The dialogue overlaps, the structure is loose, and Cassavetes doesn't tidy things up. Feels unfinished to some viewers. Emotionally exhausting.

Days of Being Wild1990

Wong Kar-wai's film about beautiful, melancholic people drifting through Hong Kong has that same dreamlike quality and focus on small, unbearable moments of connection. Visually intoxicating and heartbreaking.

But Slow and elliptical. The plot barely moves, and the ending is deliberately inconclusive. You're watching mood and performance, not story. Can feel precious or self-indulgent.

The Worst Person in the World2021

Joachim Trier's portrait of a woman in her thirties navigating love, work, and self-discovery has Empire's blend of comedy and pain. It finds humour in damage without mocking it, and sexuality isn't separated from loneliness.

But Deliberately rambling and sometimes frustrating—we're not meant to approve of the main character. The pacing can feel indulgent, and plot resolution takes a back seat to mood.

God's Own Country2017

A film about class, masculinity, and two men finding each other on a Yorkshire farm. It's tender without being safe, and sexually direct in ways that serve the story. That same sense of lives changed by small moments.

But The dialogue is sparse and the emotional register is restrained, which some find cold. Bleak landscape, limited emotional catharsis. Ends quietly rather than triumphantly.

Mamma Mia!2008

The complete opposite register from Empire of Light, but similar DNA: a woman in her middle years reclaiming her life, set in a specific time and place that becomes like a character itself. Just... aggressively joyful about it.

But If you don't love ABBA or can't stand unironic joy, this will feel insufferable. Meryl Streep doing cartwheels in a sequined pantsuit. Not for everyone, obviously.

In My Skin2002

Both centre a woman's interior collapse rendered visible. Empire shows it sideways through performance and landscape; Denis shows it head-on. Same subject, radically different registers. Both refuse to make suffering neat.

Claire Denis's horrifying and oddly beautiful film about a woman's descent into self-harm is brutally direct about mental health in ways cinema rarely manages. It doesn't explain or pathologise—just watches. Unflinching and strangely intimate.

But Extremely graphic depictions of self-injury. Difficult to watch in ways that feel transgressive rather than cathartic. Some viewers find it exploitative. Not therapeutic—punishing.

Written on the Wind1956

Both are about attraction and intimacy across class and age divides, and both suggest those connections are doomed not by external forces but by internal damage neither person can quite articulate. Sirk's in colour and desperation; Colman's in grayscale and silence.

Douglas Sirk's melodrama is formally gorgeous and morally complicated—about wealth, desire, and people using each other in ways they don't fully understand. The 1950s setting and big emotions feel worlds away from Empire, but the skeleton is identical.

But Melodrama, which means excess and artifice. If you find Sirk's style overwrought or can't engage with heightened emotion, it reads as camp rather than tragic. Some patience required.