Director: Tallulah Hazekamp Schwab
Writer: Tallulah Hazekamp Schwab
Stars: Crispin Glover, Fionnula Flanagan, Jan Gunnar Røise
Synopsis: After spending the night in a remote hotel, Mr. K is stuck in a claustrophobic nightmare when he discovers that he can’t leave the building.
Have you ever wondered what The Grand Budapest Hotel might be like if it wasn’t coated in the bubblegum beauty of the film of the same name? If it was something just a bit more haunted and ethereal, closer to the Overlook hotel? If so, you’re in luck with Tallulah H. Schwab’s Mr. K, which is celebrating its world premiere at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival. Taking place all within the halls of an unnamed hotel that is simultaneously run-down yet seemingly extravagant, Mr. K is quite the surreal oddity. Ditching conventionality at every turn, the film feels far more interested in captivating its audience and forcing them to think outside the box rather than present a straight-forward narrative with definitive lessons to be imparted. And in a way, the sense of confusion and curiosity that draws audiences into a film like this seems to be the very crux of the story Schwab is telling with this film. When tackling a topic as nebulous as loneliness and its impact on people, one would hope that a film examining it would be rich with interpretation and insights.
The film opens up by way of narration from the titular Mr. K (Crispin Glover, in a performance that keeps you rapt with attention at his litany of mannerisms and reactions). He is a stage magician who, by his own admission, wonders if it’s just him that feels incredibly lonely. Even though he performs for a living, there’s a clear sense of detachment in the one scene where he’s actually shown on stage. It’s likely because his middling audience doesn’t seem all that captivated in his act. Very little is actually learned about the titular character of Schwab’s film, but it more so feels due to him being irrelevant to the story at hand. In fact, his being a cypher makes the film one that encourages the audience to lean in and glean what they can from performance alone. One just needs to look at how Schwab captures Mr. K performing impromptu tricks; they practically feel like a defense mechanism. Rather than be the direct center of an onlooker’s attention, he turns their curiosity to something he can control: a set of eggs he’s juggling, or a small creature emerging from his previously empty hand. But what happens when he’s forced into a situation where parlor tricks are no longer enough? When he’s seemingly branded with a cult of personality that pulls him into a situation that’s becoming more and more inescapable by the minute. How will he react then?
Mr. K’s reaction to his predicament can be read in two ways. One half falls back on a desperation to escape. The other amounts to letting all these events wash over himself like a massive wave. In my opinion, it’s in the examination of the latter that Mr. K is able to shake off the rocky foothold it has around the second act. There’s a question that presents itself the longer Mr. K simply rolls with the punches of this trap he finds himself stuck in. Why is he letting this all happen? Is it because he feels he can’t escape? Or because he won’t even attempt to do so? We see his refusal to even try at some point crystallize, and it throws a rather bleak veil over the entire film. If this ever-growing maze of a hotel does represent the titular character’s loneliness, what happens when somebody inevitably gives up? As some of the other frustrated hotel guests mention, they were perfectly content with their lives until Mr. K came along with a kernel of hope for escape. Only then did they begin to really take issue with what was occurring around them, and even then, they’d rather go back to quiet acceptance rather than fighting back defiantly. When the devastatingly raw organism that is loneliness forces its current victim into isolation, what happens to the person’s surroundings? They begin to feel inescapable. Going from room to room becomes more of a chore. Even interacting with others becomes nearly impossible. As Mr. K is shown to become more and more constricted and consumed by this specter of an organism, the film reveals part of the literal mystery that’s occurring.
This reveal also acts as a bit of a double-edged sword. On one hand, it makes for a relatable metaphor about feeling emotionally and mentally lost within oneself. On the other hand, it feels as if Mr. K ever so slightly loses its footing thematically. From time to time, some isolated interactions with other hotel guests may feel a bit meandering. But on the whole, the film itself makes for an interesting metaphor both visually and conceptually. And in the final moments of Mr. K, whether it works for audiences at large or not, the swing feels more than worthy of a watch for numerous reasons. As written earlier, loneliness is something that many experience, yet something that few can specifically quantify. It’s handled differently by everybody, and in turn, the solution varies from case to case. The question of this film then becomes whether or not it handles the subject matter appropriately. Whether seen as grim or with a sense of relief or some middle ground in-between, the interpretation of how those of us who feel lost are able to escape such a feeling is certainly felt. After all, there’s no one-size-fits-all solution for such heady dilemmas. More than anything, it’s clear that Schwab has a vision for such an odd film; and it shows! The hotel the film takes place in makes for a really strong setting that makes you start to question just how a building like it could exist. It’s a testament to the production and set designers that each new change makes this maze of a location feel all the more suffocating and evocative.
Mr. K is celebrating its world premiere at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival. For more information on the film, head right here.
