Everything about Empire of the Sun, J.G. Ballard’s memoir about growing up in a prison camp during the Japanese occupation of China, seemed right for Steven Spielberg. He wanted desperately to be treated seriously as a filmmaker without letting go of his childhood wonders. Not only was the nature of Ballard’s book perfect (war through the eyes of a child), but also struck a deeply personal chord. There was much of the young Spielberg in the little boy growing up in the British settlement in Shanghai. Both had a fascination with the world of flight, taking them beyond the doldrums of their lives.
It was a match made in heaven and Empire of the Sun is both one of Spielberg’s best movies and his most underrated. His best movies have always been complex but this one, along with the preceding The Color Purple, marked his transition into a truly versatile filmmaker and is a reminder of how much more unconventional Spielberg used to be.
The best thing about Empire of the Sun, however, is Christian Bale as the young Jamie Graham. Even at the age of 13 it was obvious that he was going to become a great actor. His performance is incredibly measured and nuanced, and never cloying. He was robbed of a nomination.
Bale’s performance runs with the grain of the film, for Empire of the Sun is a story about the rebirth that comes with growing up. It opens with death. The first sight we see are coffins floating in the harbor. But there are also flowers in the water, suggesting that life starts anew. Both objects are trampled by a Japanese ship, creating the change that puts the cycle in motion.
Jim is a brat at first, no way about it. He suffers from both only child syndrome and the blinding wealth of his parents. His mother is almost catatonic and his father never disciplines him. Exemplifying his pampered life is the scene inspired by Norman Rockwell’s “Freedom from Fear” in which they tuck him in at night.
Jim’s love for planes is initially very naïve; an adventurous view of war shared by many boys. Later it becomes what will help him retain his humanity. Jim and the other Westerners are separated from the real China by their own barriers. In a brilliantly contrasting sequence, they are filmed driving through the streets of Shanghai amidst starving urchins and brutal poverty while dressed for a masquerade ball, suggesting that they are living in a fake world.
Empire of the Sun is made almost entirely of magnificent moments and one of the best comes when Jim wanders away from the party into a field where he finds a shot-down plane. At this point, Jim can’t comprehend war. To him the Japanese are heroes and he seems oblivious to the atrocities they commit in China. To him, the fallen plane is not indicative of death but, rather, a toy with which to live out his fantasies. However, this scene will conclude with his first true encounter with death as he stumbles on a Japanese dugout, staring at the real face of the enemy for the first time.
Jim was led to both the fallen aircraft and the foxhole by his toy glider. When the Japanese troops invade Shanghai and the British try to evacuate the city in a panic, it is once again a toy plane that causes Jim to become separated from his mother in the frantic crowd. A symbol of his innocence launches his journey to adulthood.
Of course, this awakening to reality extends beyond Jim. It is so eerie to see British Shanghai snuffed of life. The English are no longer the dominant residents and Jim finds himself alone in the abandoned quarters of the city. There are remnants within Jim’s old house of grim changes. In his mother’s dressing room he finds evidence of foul play, his mother likely having been attacked. But he knows nothing about sex, let alone rape, and he is not yet ready for the lessons he will learn in the camp. For now, Jim finds himself no different than the Chinese citizens who were desperately trying to escape the city by riding his family’s car.
Jim’s official rebirth comes with his introduction to Basie (John Malkovich), an American black-marketer hiding in the shipyards. Basie takes the boy in, christening him ‘Jim’ (“a new name for a new life”) but he is far from a surrogate father. He is opportunistic and grooms Jim to do his dirty business, much like Dickens’s Fagin. When an encounter with a group of Japanese soldiers turns dangerous, he is willing to leave Jim behind to make his getaway.
But there is no escape and at the camp, Jim becomes part of a collective loss of innocence. The English now take the part of beggars, clanging their dinner plates. One in particular, Mrs. Victor (Miranda Richardson) tries to hold on to dignity, even continuing to apply make-up. Basie is clever and knows the inner workings of the camp, many of which Jim can’t comprehend, such as stealing from dead fellow prisoners. Another reoccurring theme of Empire of the Sun is the distinction between who gets the privilege of moving out when the going is good and who is left behind. The Chinese were left behind in Shanghai and Jim, in turn, will be left behind three times. He is left alone in Shanghai, then Basie refuses to help him hitch a ride to the new camp, and, finally, Basie abandons him yet again in a final act of betrayal.
But Jim becomes the life force of the camp, helping the doctor on site (Nigel Havers), running jobs for Basie and the other Americans, and bonding with a young kamikaze pilot through their love for aviation, their shared passion transcending geopolitics.
But Jim isn’t as naïve anymore. Four years in the camp have made him more cynical and he becomes gradually aware of the surrounding realities. His introduction to sex (by observing the Victors in their bunk) is a true coming of age moment and the bombings in the background are not an incidental touch in the scene.
Besides the moments of breathtaking glory, Empire of the Sun is graced with scenes that could only be classified as part of the Spielberg touch. Arguably, the greatest moment in the film comes after Jim has proven himself worthy of a bed in the Americans’ corner, completing the final stage of his morphing. Having tricked the camp’s tyrannical guard, Jim, his face muddy, marches proudly into the bunk as the Americans salute him. But as he lies on his newly earned bed staring at the ceiling, the soundtrack turns to a melancholy piano tune, a reminder of the former life Jim used to live and how far he’s come in four years.
The completion of Jim’s journey into adulthood comes with tragedy. When the A-bomb is dropped, Jim thinks it is the soul of Mrs. Victor (who died of malnutrition) going up to heaven. It’s an ironic confusion as he is equating a bringer of mass death with a symbol of immortality. But Jim is now fully grown, and the confirmation of this is his rejection of Basie. He knows now that he no longer needs him as a friend. The last shot of Empire of the Sun is Jim’s suitcase floating in the harbor after Japan surrenders. Like the coffins that opened the film it symbolizes death. It’s the death of Jim’s childhood. But there is rebirth, the death of Jamie the child gave birth to Jim the man.