Something tells me Sam Mendes is a big fan of Giuseppe Tornatore’s “Cinema Paradiso” (1998). Either that or he thought the film was garbage and wanted to “improve” on it. My money’s on the former.
It’s the early eighties, England – on the north coast of Kent. Ska is a new musical sound. The Empire is an old movie theatre. In between the ticket taking, concession stand sales and an unpleasant encounter with one puny little prick of a customer, a pair of wounded souls – one old, one new – find each other.
The old soul is Hilary (Olivia Coleman), the Empire’s fifty-something, quiet and sad-faced duty manager. She looks like she’s gone fifteen rounds with life and lost. Her head always tilted down, she navigates the neatly carpeted floors of the gloriously cavernous theatre like she’s automatically in everybody’s way.
The new soul is Stephen (Michael Ward), a cheery teenager with a friendly personality. He’s a bit gloomy, though – he recently failed to get into college for his passion – architecture. Otherwise, he’s all smiles and eager to please.
Though initially put off by Stephen, Hilary soon warms to him. She even lets him talk her into venturing into a no-go zone – upstairs, to the top floor of the Empire. There, amidst the dreary decay of what must have once been an elegantly beautiful grand ballroom, Hilary and Stephen make a meaningful connection.
Complicating this unlikely union is a shit stain of a man named Donald Ellis (Colin Firth). He’s using his authority as manager of the Empire – and, therefore, Hilary’s superior – to manipulate her into visiting his office to handle some “extra duties.”
On top of that, he’s also knowingly playing with the emotions of a woman who has a recent history of mental illness. In an early scene, Hilary visits a doctor who makes sure she’s still taking the lithium he prescribed her and who also mentions a recent stay at a place called, “St. Mary’s.” Oh, and, the oily orge of the Empire also has Hilary under his greasy thumb due to the fact that he regularly reports to city social services about how she’s getting on. In short, he’s made of rotten eggs and rat poison and the rest of the staff of the Empire appropriately loathe him.
Other complications cluttering this new found love are the wide age gap between the two and the fact that Hilary’s white and Stephen’s black.
Set in the early eighties, in the midst of the Brixton riots, the New Cross Fire and the sickening presence of the far-right group, the National Front , Hilary and Stephen are hyper-aware of the potential for ugliness if anyone – even Empire staff – were to find out that they were an item.
This was a bit of a personal film for Mendes – Hilary is somewhat based on his own mother’s struggles with mental health. In light of that, this must’ve been a difficult one for him. Bringing all that personal experience to the film, though, makes us feel the heartache in, not only Hilary, but in those around her – they clearly care about her, but are often at a loss of what to do.
Mendes found the perfect Hilary – Olivia Coleman. She conveys all the topsy-turvy emotional turmoil of the character and does it all without stumbling into caricature. Coleman is one of my favourites. Though some might find it hard to believe that a handsome teenager like Stephen would fall for her, I never questioned it for a second.
Coleman is lovely, as many older women are, regardless of how many times we’re told that they can’t possibly be. With more talent than she probably knows what to do with, a smile that suggests she still treasures her fourteen year-old self and an emotional fire that, when in full flame, can burn through our defenses with ease, Coleman is one of the truly great actresses currently working. We are lucky to be given opportunity after opportunity to delight in her work. EOL is yet another.
Mendes clearly means for the Empire, itself, to be a place of comfort and safety for all who pass through its doors. Not just the customers, but, more importantly, the staff see it as a home away from home and an escape from the often ugly realities of what’s going on just a few steps outside. Movies as an escape from the brutal blecch of the real world is not exactly a new idea, but, here, Mendes is more focused on the employees than the customers’ experience.
Despite this, Mendes is no zealot for escapism. Escaping the ho-hum or “Oh, no!” of one’s life, whether to see a flick, take a job or to fall in love at a movie theatre, can do wonders for one’s inner spirit, he rightly shows us. At the same time, Mendes reminds us that reality is no pushover. Shove it aside and, like a spurned lover, it will strike back with glee when we least expect it.
Strike back it definitely does in maybe the most impressive scene in EOL. Nearing the end, Mendes cleverly uses the “widescreen” of the front doors of the Empire to create a moment of visual irony. Reality, with its fangs and fists at the ready, paralyzes the employees of the Empire and finally breaks through to spoil their cinematic safe haven.
The staff – from spunky new waver Janine (Hannah Onslow) to the sweet loner projectionist Norman (Toby Jones) to Neil (Tom Brooke), the quiet observer who means well – are, mostly, in the best way possible, a makeshift family. The few, brief scenes of them all together in the back room, are, for the most part, cheery and ring true.
Though EOL does a lot well, it suffers from a feeling of overfamiliarity. “Cinema Paradiso” still lingers in my mind and I found myself semi-cringing at Mendes’ attempts to mimic the justly celebrated Italian films’ sense of wonder for the cinema. Though those moments, in EOL, are brief, they don’t flow naturally from the narrative. Clumsily shoved into the story, they stick out for all the wrong reasons. Plus, they are too “on the nose” and, maybe due to the modern setting, not the least bit convincing. Did Tornatore have an easier job putting across his characters’ awe of the cinema because it was set in a small village in an earlier day – much closer to the beginnings of the artform?
EOL is about cinema as escape, makeshift families, changing times, but, at its’ core, it’s about two characters who are struggling with mental illness. In Hilary’s case, it’s the mental illness of BiPolar Disorder and in Stephen’s case, it’s a kind of mental illness called racism. Hilary and Stephen’s struggle is against the darker mysteries of the mind that seek to turn the outer world into a hell on Earth.
There is much to like about EOL, especially in a current movie theatre world where bombast and spectacle have taken over. That doesn’t, however, mean that it gets extra points just for being quiet and reflective – even though, my eyes and ears sure appreciated the break.
Pleasant, moving, but clunky when it tries to reach too far and a bit too conventional for its own good, EOL benefits tremendously from Olivia Coleman’s performance. Without her, you’ve got something duller and less dynamic.
And, just one other thing. Mendes should’ve known better than to try to replicate the genuinely moving payoff in “Cinema Paradiso.” That’s just asking for trouble. Trouble a modest film like this just doesn’t need.
