I often wonder whether Franz Kafka realised that his writing would have such an enormous impact on global culture – not only have his works been formative in the creation of entire literary movements, the very mention of his name evokes particular images and ideas, such as the frustrations of navigating the bureaucracy, endless hallways filled with unfamiliar and unfriendly faces, and the paranoia and tension that comes with the act of simply being alive. He doesn’t even need to be mentioned by name for his style to be easily recognisable, which is a wonderful legacy for a writer who sadly spent much of his very short life enshrouded in a state of deep depression. His reputation lives on, and we see it being frequently reflected in many contemporary works – and one of the most interesting (at least in theory) that we’ve seen in recent years is Mr. K, the film written and directed by Tallulah H. Schwab, who tells the story of the titular character, a travelling magician who decides to take up residence in a seemingly ordinary hotel for the evening, but finds himself being trapped in a maze of corridors, populated by a range of grotesque and frankly terrifying characters, none of whom provide even an ounce of assistance when the protagonist requests help in finding the exit, his desire to simply leave (as per his basic human freedoms) eventually evolving into a complex plan to retreat from this hellish landscape, from which there is clearly no escape. A strange existential odyssey that has fantastic ideas, but perhaps doesn’t do particularly well in arranging them in an order that makes sense, Mr. K is filled with ambition, but falters when it comes to actually following through on its many complex ideas, which ultimately is the root of its downfall and one of the many reasons it doesn’t quite reach the potential it had at the outset, leading to quite a disappointing – but nonetheless still quite memorable – experience.

There is something so bewitching about a story – whether written or visual – that explores the human condition through approaching it as a bundle of peculiarities, where existence is questionable and nothing quite makes sense. This mainly reflects the fact that none of us actually have much of a grasp on reality, and life is simply too random and inexplicable to ever truly be understood. This is the foundation of Mr. K, which uses some familiar techniques to bring this story to life, which it does with a combination of a particular story and specific visual cues that help bring these ideas to life. There isn’t all that much to this film in terms of its themes – the majority of the film finds the titular protagonist scrambling through these hallways, searching desperately for some answers, or even just the vaguest clue that could facilitate what he is realising is a very urgent escape, in fears of becoming one of the mindless drones that occupy this eerie establishment. Along the way, he attempts to unlock the countless secrets that linger throughout this building, interacting with a range of characters in the hopes that at least one of them could guide him towards his freedom – but it is revealed to be far more difficult to actually find solutions when the precise question being asked isn’t even clear. This is coupled with some truly impressive visuals – the director crafts some unforgettable images, with the composition of every shot being outright stunning, the colours and framing being integral to immersing the viewer in this haunting alternative reality in which nothing quite makes sense, leading to some very haunting observations that instill in the viewer the same paranoia and sense of unease experienced by the protagonist.

Mr. K is a film with many bold ideas, but one aspect that keeps it grounded is the performance delivered by Crispin Glover, who is quite simply one of the greatest actors in the history of American cinema, and someone who is tragically overlooked when it comes to discussing masters of their craft. Perhaps his casting here seems painfully obvious – its not the first time he has played a character who exists within the margins of Kafka and his contemporaries, and it seems like a very common choice to give the role to someone who has made a career out of playing these unhinged, vaguely sinister characters who exist in strange versions of reality. However, all of this is very much a surface-level critique, since Glover makes it quite clear from the start that he is going something quite different, crafting a character who may seem similar to those he has played in the past, but is nonetheless still quite fascinating, even at times when it feels slightly more unwieldy. He is the sole reason that Mr. K achieves some degree of success, which is a credit not only to his impeccable work, but also his ability to make even the most complex of characters seem realistic and earnest in their own way, madmen adrift in a sea of confusion and despair, but where their own efforts to make sense of a chaotic world keeps them afloat, at least momentarily. No one else in the cast registers in the same way, but they’re all very effective in forming this macabre Greek chorus of grotesque characters that represent the deepest and most unsettling aspects of the human condition, obstacles that not only stand in the way of the protagonist’s escape, but actively play a part in his descent into existential despair.

However, as strong as it may be in terms of certain aspects, Mr. K is far from a perfect film, and it falls apart quite swiftly once we realise that its flaws far outweigh its merits. The best description for this film would be as Kafka made by and for people who have only read the plot summary of The Metamorphosis, because while it does capture the oddity and unsettling tone of his work, it doesn’t dare peer beneath the surface, being remarkably vapid despite having so many compelling ideas that could have easily been fleshed out into something much stronger and more engaging. It doesn’t go horribly wrong, but it does embody the concept of style over substance – the impressive visuals become a distraction from the weak, dreary narrative that positions itself as being some complex treatise against modern society, when in reality it is quite ineffective as far as actually following through on these ideas. This is a film that leaves the viewer at a bit of a loss – it claims to be some profound work, and one that builds to a harrowing crescendo, but by the time we arrive at those climactic moments (which are visually quite visceral and unsettling, and not in a way that necessarily matches this film), we’ve grown somewhat bored, having dealt with the tedium of seeing such constant repetition that nothing actually ends up making much sense by the end, and we are forced to just accept the weak, lacklustre conclusion as it is, rather than being able to peer beneath the surface and understand precisely what it is that makes this such an intriguing concept.

Mr. K is both a very striking, visually stunning film and a sadly very shallow one. It has several bold ideas, and it succeeds in exploring them, but only to an extent, since there is always something slightly sinister simmering beneath the surface of this film, which is a far better aesthetic achievement than it is a narrative one, particularly when it comes to lingering with the viewer, who are not likely to be entirely sold on this film or what it is promising to deliver. Something is missing from this film that is difficult to pinpoint precisely – the story is unremarkable in terms of following through on its ambitious ideas, but not enough to disqualify it from being all that interesting. Glover is fantastic, but let down by a supporting cast that doesn’t quite match him on the same level – yet he was always the anchor of the film, and everyone else was just peripheral. Ultimately, the reason Mr. K doesn’t work is that it struggles to find the right balance between its different components – there is something so incredibly captivating about this narrative that never quite manifests, leading us to feel somewhat robbed of the experience, forced into a position where we have to accept what we are given, rather than having the benefit of seeing something truly memorable. It’s solid at the best of times, but undeniably disappointing, and makes us wonder whether or not such stories should be told when audacity is traded for excess, rather than taking advantage of the many promising themes that should have amounted to a much better and far more intriguing final product.