what a strange film this is: i don't even think it's particularly kafkaesque!
the reduction of kafka's biography and work to a murder mystery doesn't do justice to either, and those spanish guitar flourishes throughout the first half are totally disjunctive. i found myself thinking that the plot should be more surreal to match the tone of kafka's work, and yet by contrast his life was stark, bleak and tragic.
perhaps the problem with this "kafka" film then is that the writer, lem dobbs (who also wrote "the limey"), tries to yoke kafka's life and work together, which results in tonal dissonance.
this dissonance extends to the film's aesthetics too, as soderbergh switches from black and white to colour cinematography…