THE STORY – Mr. K, a traveling magician, finds himself in a Kafkaesque nightmare when he can’t find the exit of the hotel he has slept in. His attempts to get out only pull him deeper, entangling him further with the hotel and its curious inhabitants.
THE CAST – Crispin Glover, Sunnyi Melles, Fionnula Flanagan, Bjørn Sundquist, Dearbhla Molloy, Barbara Sarafian, Jan Gunnar Røise, Esmée van Kampen & Sam Louwyck
THE TEAM – Tallulah H. Schwab (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 96 Minutes
“Every human is a universe within themselves. Floating about in eternal darkness.” The titular character of “Mr. K” (played by Crispin Glover with an arresting quirkiness) narrates the film’s introduction, admitting to feeling like his life is aimless. He’s just existing. He’s just floating. And he’s lonely, so lonely. He questions if every human feels this way, or maybe it’s just him. Tallulah H. Schwab, directing her first film in 10 years, aims to craft a story all about life, mainly how we desperately try to control its unpredictability. While its themes may feel difficult to discern in its Kafka-inspired world, we are thrown into an inventive vision. Bizarre, humorous, and absurd, this story is set in a hotel with all the nightmarish elements of Stanley Kubrick and production design that seems like a grimy, darker Wes Anderson.
The jauntiness of Stijn Cole’s score and the lushness of its visuals is what first attracts the viewer to “Mr. K,” a tale about a magician down on his luck. The color green is most prominent and symbolic of Schwab’s theme of life. At first, the visuals are bright but fade as the film progresses, much like the score, taking on dark undertones. Mr. K travels to a grand hotel, hoping to stay the night before his next gig. It’s a decaying shadow of its former self, much like Mr. K. While the hotel’s mossy green walls may be fading, what’s keeping this place vibrant is its colorful cast of characters, which includes a hostile front desk clerk with one good eye (Barbara Sarafian), a disheveled man who’s constantly trying to sleep in Mr. K’s room (Sam Louwyck), a troupe of musicians led by a glamorous maestra (Sunnyi Melles), a bustling kitchen staff with a hardened chef (Bjørn Sundquist), and two elegant, elderly sisters (Fionnula Flanagan and Dearbhla Molloy) who provide a sense of solace from the chaos Mr. K finds himself in.
Just when you think you have this place all figured out, it gets stranger and stranger. Mr. K has increasing trouble navigating the hotel’s maze of long hallways and dealing with all the chaos caused by the other guests. “I really should get going” is a sentence he often utters, but he has nowhere to go. He realizes he can’t find the exit, and it becomes apparent that these “guests” haven’t left this hotel in years. It’s easy to get swept up in the mysteries that “Mr. K” presents, especially as visuals of leaking pipes, the sounds of creaking walls, and a sense of claustrophobia become increasingly pronounced. The hotel is just as alive as the people inside its walls, and Mr. K’s presence shakes the balance. What functions as a well-oiled machine starts falling apart, and those inside lose control over their reality. Mr. K uses this to plan an escape.
It’s impossible not to have fun in the weirdness of Schwab’s vision of existentialism. It is not always clear what anything means when peeling back the film’s layers or the hotel’s wallpaper. The bewilderment can frustrate, but the question of “What does it all mean?” in this case, really works to Schwab’s theme that life doesn’t make any sense. We can try to control it, we can try to find meaning behind everything, but the complexity of life and its weirdness are what make it interesting.
