The great David Lean almost directed Empire of the Sun, an adaptation of J.G. Ballard’s autobiographical novel about surviving an internment camp in Japanese-occupied China during the Second World War. Adapted by the great Tom Stoppard, it would have been Lean’s follow-up to A Passage to India and brought his career making epics full circle (The Bridge on the River Kwai being also about British war prisoners of the Japanese). However ultimately he left the project, not quite convinced of its visual promise, handing it off to one of its producers, a forty year old filmmaker and lifelong fan of his.
Empire of the Sun was very clearly Steven Spielberg’s attempt to make a David Lean film. He’s an ardent admirer of Lean (just watch him gush over Lawrence of Arabia), who had a huge impact on his aspirations to be a director. And here was his chance to recapture a sense of the epic scale and grand storytelling that so drew audiences to those movies. His passion is very tangible on the finished film, which certainly has an endearing air to it and a compelling character journey driving it. David Lean is one of my favourite filmmakers too, which may be one of the reasons why I really enjoyed Empire of the Sun, perchance Spielberg’s most underrated movie.
The spoiled brat son of British diplomats in Shanghai, Jamie “Jim” Graham (Christian Bale in his film debut), is separated from his parents during the 1941 Japanese occupation. He’s taken prisoner, alongside other British residents of the area and an American expatriate (John Malkovich). Confined to the Suzhou Creek prison camp for the next few years, he’s forced into maturity, learning resourcefulness and self-reliance, in addition to being exposed to the bitterness of war.
Despite how large the narratives are, how lavish and exotic the productions, the very best epics are fundamentally character driven. Empire of the Sun understands that, giving the responsibility for the weight of its story to a kid. But Christian Bale for being so young, commands your attention. Jim is a character who’s not at all likeable at the start. He’s privileged, entitled, snobbish, pious, pretty much the physical manifestation of British exceptionalism. But when the going gets tough you sympathize with him because he is still a child, and you’re with him throughout his whole transformative journey. It is a stunning debut for a child actor, requiring a lot of complex emotions and actions that come across immensely genuine. Though Bale’s own abilities shouldn’t be understated, I can’t help but attribute part of this again, to Spielberg’s gift for directing children. He can really amplify untapped talent well and it’s no wonder Bale would go on to have the most successful career of the child actors to come under Spielberg’s wing.
Spielberg uses as little CGI as he can in an attempt to capture authenticity. The practicality of Lean’s films was always something that appealed to him, and so most of the effects, particularly the aeronautical ones, are real. There’s a couple grand set pieces tied to important moments of personal growth or deep character beats for Jim. The scene where Jim encounters the young Japanese pilot he befriended earlier, only for a misunderstanding to result in his death is a crucial example, as well as Spielberg’s main theme at its most transparent. But the best scene of the movie is when the American Mustangs attack the camp as Jim watches enraptured from a pagoda, his love of fighter jets allowing for an exclamation of joy in spite of what’s happening around him. That great tracking shot of Jim and the pilot locking eyes as he passes by is utterly beautiful. Like in The Color Purple, the cinematography is astounding, but here it has a larger wheelhouse to take advantage of. Another brilliantly shot scene is when the Japanese pilot with a model plane is running along the line of the sunrise, exactly as Jim used to do, while Jim can only watch from behind barbed wire. Just before it is a gorgeous combination of framing and lighting when Jim first arrives at the camp and approaches a Japanese plane he adores. This might be the closest to a Miyazaki movie from Spielberg if for nothing else than the unabashed love of flying machines.
This movie is the first time Spielberg talked about war in a serious way, foreshadowing a number of his later projects. And doing so allowed him to address the complex repercussions of war, primarily as they apply to Jim, a child. Spielberg declared it the best film he’s made on the loss of innocence (which isn’t quite as great a statement as he may think, given how few other movies of his are about that theme). In his own words, “this was the opposite of Peter Pan; this was the boy who had grown up too quickly.” Jim has to learn to be independent, which in the circumstances sometimes involves unsavoury actions. One by one his resolves break down, such as when he has to steal off a dead man for the first time, or barter for survival. While the movie portrays him making the best of his situation, befriending the American prisoners (including a not very inconspicuous Ben Stiller), finding surrogate parent figures in a forlorn Miranda Richardson and a steadfast Nigel Havers, it doesn’t steer clear of the psychological damage being inflicted. Directly after the aforementioned attack on the camp, Jim breaks down to Havers, revealing he’s forgotten what his parents look like after being separated so long, and it’s heartbreaking. When he witnesses Richardson’s death and reacts numbly to it, it’s just as telling of how damaged he’s been.
One of the most interesting aspects of Jim’s character is his idolization of Japanese planes and their pilots in spite of his situation. He demonstrates this utmost respect most notably when he salutes while singing “Suo Gân” as they take off on the nearby airfield. He also quickly sheds his British mannerisms as he gains the respect of the American prisoners in an attempt to be more like them. Ballard himself summed up these complicated relationships to nationality best: “Small boys tend to find their heroes where they can. One thing there was no doubt about was that the Japanese were extremely brave. One had very complicated views about patriotism and loyalty to one’s own nation. Jim is constantly identifying himself, first with the Japanese, then, when the Americans start flying over in their Mustangs and B-29s, he’s very drawn to the American.” Jim had never been to Britain, accounting too for his lack of investment in British identity.
That rendition of “Suo Gân” is another great highlight of the movie, but really John Williams’ music on a whole is sublime -which I understand has been said about a lot of his music discussed so far, but this one in particular really doesn’t get enough attention. The main theme is very stirring, and gives particularly dramatic scenes an added emotional resonance. It’s subtle, slow, and solemn, a little like his music for Saving Private Ryan would be, but there’s also sweetness and a little touch of hope to it to the point it can be quite moving. As I mentioned previously, I consider it one of his most underrated scores.
But as much as I really like Empire of the Sun, I sympathize to some degree with the qualms of those who don’t. For one thing, John Malkovich really isn’t good -his style of over-enunciated line delivery and refusal to emote really bogging down most of his scenes (though Joe Pantoliano is pretty good as his partner). Jim’s first run-in with a Japanese military force is too on-the-nose to be sure, and there are more than a few light sequences that play just a little too much like an Indiana Jones movie. Gene Siskel felt it didn’t go far enough with the childs’-perspective-of-war concept, and yeah it isn’t quite as provocative as Hope and Glory or Grave of the Fireflies, both of which came out around the same time. But I think the story is supposed to be personal, about how the war affects and changes not children, but this child -the child who experienced this specific ordeal, the child who J.G. Ballard was. Bale’s performance is enough to convince me of how real he is and where it’s most necessary the weight carries through.
I would love to have seen David Lean’s interpretation of Empire of the Sun, but you know what, Spielberg’s is the next best thing. He made his David Lean epic, and it’s the most overlooked film of his entire career, buried under record breaking blockbusters and pop cultural touchstones. This and The Color Purple suffer that fate for coming right in between the two biggest phases of Spielberg’s popularity, but they’re absolute gems. If he hadn’t proven it to the Academy, he’d proven to himself his capabilities as a dramatic director. And so with that behind him he was finally ready to return George Lucas’ calls.
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