Mr. K
Crispin Glover finds himself trapped in the hotel from hell in this Kafkaesque surrealist comedy.
If there’s one thing that’s direct about this labyrinthine existentialist mindbender from Norway-born, Amsterdam-based filmmaker Tallulah H Schwab, it’s the title – a clear reference to Franz Kafka and the writer’s frustrated protagonist from his final novel The Castle. In terms of exuberant absurdity, however, the film has at least as much in common with the work of Samuel Beckett. That’s thanks to its darkly comic air and Mr. K himself (Crispin Glover) who, after checking into a hotel and discovering he can never leave, finds his sense of self being stripped away. Perhaps not a film for those who look for neat plots and easy answers, here the questions spin like planets – but, as one character puts it, “The trick is to recognise what’s important.”
Amber Wilkinson, Screen International