Tag Archives: Kafkaesque

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: UP THE CATALOGUE (2024)

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DIRECTED BY: Alastair Siddons

FEATURING: Lyndsey Marshal, John Macmillan, Morgana Robinson, Anastasia Hille

PLOT: Hailey, the lead presenter for a shopping network, is forbidden from suspending her performance on a set where it’s always still morning.

Still from "Up the Catalogue" (2004)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Hailey’s journey to the end of the film is by turns comical, confusing, and surreal, culminating in a quick-but-profound moment of “hmm.”

COMMENTS: Judging from the dreams I suffered after watching this, I’ll advertise that angle first. An eager makeup artist preps protagonist Hailey for broadcast, interrupted by odd exchanges with an unseen Dave who runs hot and cold: snippy one moment, flattering in the next. “Forever Bread,” the invention of a gruff fellow in military-style fatigues, is among the never-fully-explained items for sale on 4QTV (quality, quantity, quintity, and never any Q’s), and we learn of Hailey’s aversion to bread mold and of her son, whose name she can’t quite remember. Derek—a regular caller, it seems telephones and goes on to confess his fear of dying (not unreasonably for a nonagenarian). Quick break, and on to the next item.

Alastair Siddons skewers one of television’s more ridiculous and unsettling genres, home shopping programs, through a ridiculous and unsettling little film. Up the Catalogue never goes anywhere; first Hailey’s is unable to leave the production set, then the building, and the finale is an extended pursuit down a repeated cycle of stairwell. Her boss, Dave, is the hellish counterpart of a Chris Morris TV producer, dangling the promise of implied freedom in front of Hailey only if she agrees to the terms of the rent-to-marry companion owl, Maureen, who used to be the network’s star hamster.

Up the Catalogue left me with a feeling of “Whelp, that just happened”, followed thereafter by a none-too-restful bit of sleep. The film cruises along the comedy-cringe line in true British fashion, adding a hearty dose of cramped infinity-space as the story unfolds within an endless backstage labyrinth. By the end, I wanted out as much as Hailey did, and I was relieved that my visit to this world wrapped up in only a little over an hour. That said, I strangely enjoyed the distressing journey—a sentiment which leaves me as confused as the climax did.

Rolling again in Five-Four-Q-Two-Action!

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

Up the Catalogue is unquestionably weird, offbeat and surreal right out of the gate. There’s a palpable awkwardness and Alastair Siddons builds a great atmosphere of intrigue.” — Rebecca Cherry, Film Carnage (contemporaneous)

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THEY CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: THE GOLEM (1920) / GOLEM (1979)

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When Dracula, Frankenstein’s monster, the Mummy, and a host of other horror icons were lining up at the doors of Universal Studios in search of eternal fame, somehow the humble golem failed to get the invite. An immensely powerful beast molded out of clay, brought to life by a mystic Hebrew incantation, it may have had too much in common with Mary Shelley’s invention; or more likely, Hollywood’s Jewish studio chiefs prudently sidestepped anything that would offend sensitive and vociferous gentile audiences. Still, even without the spotlight, the legend of the golem has quietly endured, so much so that Golems appear in the vaunted Reader Suggestion Queue twice. Today we examine these two tales, one a literal origin story, the other something more abstract.

THE GOLEM: HOW HE CAME INTO THE WORLD (1920)

Der Golem, wie er in die Welt kam

DIRECTED BY: Paul Wegener,

FEATURING: Paul Wegener, Albert Steinrück, Lothar Müthel, Lyda Salmonova,

PLOT: When the Emperor decrees that all Jews must leave the city of Prague, Rabbi Loew invokes the help of the demon Astaroth to construct a defender for his people out of clay.

COMMENTS: An early classic of German expressionist cinema, you will find quite a few reviews of this silent rendering of the original folk tale about the avenger of clay. They tend to focus on three main topics: the source material that came to inform the film, the peculiar history of how it came to be made, and a detailed recap of the plot. It feels like someone’s got my number, because that’s where my instincts would normally lead me, as well. So let’s try and cover those basesin one fell swoop, and then we can turn in a different direction: the ancient folktale was codified in a 1915 novel, which writer/director/star Wegener spun into a trilogy. The first two, set in contemporary times, are now lost to history, but the third, a prequel delivering the backstory in which a rabbi summons the warrior to defend the Jewish people but soon loses control of his creation, has survived the years, and that leads us here.

That background established, it’s important to note how neatly The Golem serves to meet the moment while paving the way for the horror legends of the future. While the story is set in medieval Prague, the fanciful decoration owes more to Méliès than the Middle Ages: impossible peaks tower over the city, while buildings are adorned with twisty staircases and walls never Continue reading THEY CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: THE GOLEM (1920) / GOLEM (1979)

CAPSULE: MR. K (2025)

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“Be out of sync with your times for just one day, and you will see how much eternity you contain within you.”–Rainier Maria Rilke

Mr. K is currently available for purchase or rental on video-on-demand.

DIRECTED BY: Tallulah H. Schwab

FEATURING:

PLOT: A magician planning to spend one night in a hotel finds it impossible to leave.

Still from Mr. K (2025)

COMMENTS: Mr. K clearly has a lot of time to contemplate the universe within. In a brief yet moving introductory sequence, he performs his magic act, setting a miniature solar system in orbit, for an audience who couldn’t be less interested. He then checks into a hotel, planning to move on after one night. As the title’s nod to Franz Kafka indicates, K. instead falls into a trap of Kafkaesque absurdity, though the weirdness here is of the paint-the-numbers variety.

It quickly becomes obvious the hotel exists as a world unto itself. After losing his way while trying to find the lobby, K. meets a string of eccentric characters, all of who impart tidbits of wisdom K. barely has the patience to listen to before he’s corralled back into his room by a roving brass band. On a second attempt to escape, he ends up in the room of two elderly sisters who have lived in the hotel for so long without ever leaving, they’re forced to admit they can’t remember how to find the exit.

One of them mutters something about the Oracle and rumors of divinity. Mysterious graffiti reading “Liberator” is seen scrawled across the endless, identical corridors. After another thwarted attempt to leave, K. ends up in the kitchen where he’s thrown an apron and told to get cracking—eggs, that is. Despite his insistence that he’s running late for an appointment and really must be leaving, the hotel immediately subsumes K. into its rhythms.

For viewers of a certain age, this will sound like familiar territory. It brings to mind that other film wherein a savior figure, encouraged to reach his full potential by a mysterious oracle, sets about freeing the ignorance masses from the narrow confines of their reality.

At first, K. takes great pains to insist he’s perfectly ordinary and not the Liberator everyone’s whispering about (and therefore Glover’s antic potential is never fully realized). He is, however, the only person in the entire hotel who’s concerned about the strange noises coming from the walls. Leaking pipes take the blame for periodic bouts of structural groaning and dripping wallpaper. After a House of Leaves-style investigation into the measurements of the rooms, K. realizes the building, despite being bigger on the inside, is also steadily getting smaller.

K. desperately tries to convince his few friends to assist with his seemingly futile quest to find the exit, but they’re satisfied with their existence in the hotel. Why would they want to leave? It provides everything they need, and with the gourmet meals continually being served, it seems there could be worse places to be trapped (I don’t think I’ve ever seen a movie with quite so many food stylists listed in the credits).

K. continues mapping the hotel on his own, even as detractors work to sabotage his progress. With the discovery of what’s really going within the hotel’s walls, the story veers onto slightly weirder, though still familiar, territory. As the journey deepens, Mr. K asks a lot of questions but provides no answers. It’s left open-ended enough for the viewer to decide on their own interpretation if, by the end, they’re still interested.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Glover’s baggy role doesn’t really suit his weird charms… while casting Glover as a reluctant everyman takes admirable chutzpah, there’s not much to ‘Mr. K beyond its second-hand surrealism and strained counter-mythmaking.”–Simon Abrams, RogerEbert.com (contemporaneous)

CAPSULE: THE ACTOR (2025)

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: André Holland, May Calamaway, Asim Chaudhry, Joe Cole, Fabien Frankel, , , , Youssef Kerkour, Simon McBurney, Tanya Reynolds, , Scott Alexander Young

PLOT: An actor in the 1950s loses his memory after being struck in the head by a jealous husband, and winds up in a small Ohio town trying to puzzle out his own identity.

Still from the actor (2025)

COMMENTS: For his solo debut feature, protege Duke Johnson takes on a neurological  dysfunction; but whereas his  mentor would tackle an ambitiously exotic condition like Cotard’s syndrome or Fregoli syndrome, Johnson restricts his theme to humble amnesia. Paul, an actor, is struck on the head with a chair when caught in bed with another man’s wife. He wakes up in a hospital with no memory—he has to be told his name and occupation—and is almost immediately run out of town by a detective who warns him that adultery is against the law and he’ll be arrested if he returns. He knows he is from New York City, but doesn’t have enough pocket change for a ticket there, so he ends up in a small Midwestern town working at a tannery. While there, he meets and romances nice—if eccentric—small-town gal Edna, but leaves her behind once he’s saved up enough for a bus ticket back to the Big Apple. In the big, wicked city, his former friends (a roguish lot) treat him like nothing has changed, despite the fact that he doesn’t remember them, and his agent gets him a small comeback role on a TV show. But will the fact that he can’t even remember names that were told to him a few minutes ago affect his prospects as a thespian?

Johnson’s uses blatant theatrical artifice to suggest Paul’s disorientation. Scenes are staged like a big budget play or a low-budget TV show. A third-person narrator occasionally interjects exposition. Some of the streets Paul walks through look like they are built on studio backlots, with large swaths of blackness disguising the emptiness of the warehouse. Elements from a cartoon bleed into the real world. His own life shows up on everyone’s favorite program “A Silent Heart” (which appears to be the only TV show in existence in Paul’s world). Paul discovers that some real items in his house look like impractical stage props. An invisible wipe tracks his journey from an interior to an exterior location. Voices may be slightly out of sync, and he glimpses vaguely familiar faces. Doctors try recovering memories through “narcoserum”-aided hypnotic regression, leading to a dream sequence that’s only slightly mistier than his regular reality. Paul’s cameo casting in “The Silent Heart” (which, not by accident, involves a trial) throws him into a Kafkaesque nightmare where his self-confidence in what he assumes is his own acting talent is overwhelmed by the reality that he is not capable of processing what’s going on around him. All of this creates an impressively dreamlike world, putting us in the mindset of an amnesiac for whom the world operates according to familiar tropes, yet feels unreal in its concrete details.

What “really happens” in The Actor is, for the most part, easily determined. But the confusing part is what it all means—why bother to tell this story that seems to arrive nowhere? Amnesia, in and of itself, is not usually the subject of a narrative, but a rather common (even a clichéd) device for seeding a mystery. Here, there’s no great reveal—not on the plot, the psychological, the thematic, or the metaphysical levels—although we frequently get the sense that some epiphany is just about to arrive. The colorblind casting ( was originally intended to play the lead) isn’t especially distracting, but seems to be a missed opportunity for adding another layer to the story; amnesiac or not, a black actor’s experiences in Jim Crow America would have a vastly different character than a white actor’s. In the end, the movie plays like nothing more than a dreamy demonstration of the life of an amnesiac, with no discernible deeper message beyond “all the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” The fact that so many of The Actor‘s individual scenes create such effective senses of disorientation and anticipation makes the movie’s refusal to ultimately resolve itself an underwhelming and slightly frustrating experience. It’s a film that somehow manages to be intriguing without becoming actually interesting; its fascinations are entirely formal and theoretical. You should still probably check out whatever Johnson tries next, though; he has his cinematic technique down.

A word about that large cast: after Holland and Chan, the rest are listed in the opening credits simply as “the Troupe.” It’s reminiscent of the collective credit “the Mercury Actors” in Citizen Kane, and as in that movie, the end credits show clips revealing who played which role. Recognizing the actors is one of the unexpected minor treats of The Actor.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a weird, trippy, movie that has themes of reinventing oneself when you think it is too late to do so. André Holland is incredible.”–Tessa Smith, Mama’s Geeky (contemporaneous)

CAPSULE: PITFALL (1962)

Otoshiana

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Recommended

DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Hisashi Igawa, Sumie Sasaki, Kunie Tanaka

PLOT: A miner in search for work is led to a ghost town where he’ll become embroiled in a plot involving manipulation, trade unions, and doppelgangers.

Pitfall (1962)

COMMENTS: Pitfall was the first of a series of collaborations between Hiroshi Teshigahara (director), author Kobo Abe (screenwriter), and Toru Takemitsu (composer); the trio would later produce works like The Woman in the Dunes and The Face of Another. Although an interesting piece on its own, Pitfall feels more like a prelude to greater works to come.

The beginning of the film establishes a sense of mystery and intrigue, as well as looming menace and disquiet (to which Takemitsu’s experimental score proves indispensable). Our main character is a miner traveling with his son in search of a job; he receives a map and instructions to go to a certain town where work awaits him. Upon arrival, the place is revealed to be practically deserted, save for a woman living in a house on its outer edges. After a brief interaction with her, the miner finds himself pursued by a figure in a white suit who eventually stabs him to death.

The Kafkaesque setup (and tone) only paves the way for further strangeness. A few scenes later the miner returns as a befuddled ghost helplessly wandering around the town, unable to interact with the living but trying to uncover the reason for his assassination. The remainder of the film maintains this dynamic: an unfolding drama in the realm of the living, with commentary of ghosts who can do nothing but passively observe.

Even before being reduced to a ghost, the main character is already caught in a web of mysterious causes and effects, moved by an ineffable logic not unlike the inscrutable bureaucratic machinations of  The Trial. Once the plot turns its focus on the investigation of the miner’s murder, the drama thickens (along with the confusion and weirdness), and stretches to a conspiracy involving the leaders of separate factions of a trade union.

More so than in the other films by the trio, the political dimension is particularly evident in Pitfall. The well-dressed figure in white, a symbol of the upper class or even capital itself, orchestrates the events like a demiurge, leading the working class to destruction. They persist only as powerless ghosts who can only witness their own oppression, and comment on it without ever being heard. This is but one of the levels of analysis, and we should not ignore the aura of alienation that the film communicates on a purely existential level.

For a first excursion, Teshigahara’s direction is surprisingly assured. As is usually the case with early efforts by masters, the seeds of what he would go on to accomplish are fully on display in Pitfall. Even if the story does not play out as elegantly and concisely as future offerings by the same team, the film is an assured recommendation to anyone who has enjoyed them.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a classic ‘first film,’ full of restless energy and expressionistic visuals. It’s doggedly odd, but thoroughly involving.”–Noel Murray, AV Club (Criterion DVD box set)