Kafka, an insurance worker gets embroiled in an underground group after a co-worker is murdered. The underground group is responsible for bombings all over town, attempting to thwart a secret organization that controls the major events in society. He eventually penetrates the secret organization and must confront them.
At the age of 26, Steven Soderbergh permanently altered the face of independent cinema when he became the youngest-ever winner of the Palme d’Or at the 1989 Cannes Film Festival for sex, lies and videotape, his feature-film directorial debut. A simmering exploration of the nature of modern relationships and the links between sexuality and voyeurism, the film was an international sensation that established its director as one of the golden boys of world cinema. Born in Georgia on January 14, 1963, Soderbergh grew up in Baton Rouge, LA, where his father was the Dean of Louisiana State University’s College of Education. While still in high school, Soderbergh enrolled in the university’s film animation class and began making short 16 mm films with second-hand equipment. After he graduated from high school, he went to Hollywood, where he worked as a freelance editor. Soderbergh’s time in Hollywood was brief, and he soon returned home, where he continued making short films and writing scripts… read more
Though the cinematography was beautiful, Kafka gets no respect in this film, just the usual Soderbergh trope- maybe 'indie' by Hollywood standards but really quite banal and just a little bit cheesy. I would like to see a director like Bela Tarr take on a subject like Kafka, Soderbergh lacks the intensity.
Neither compellingly Kafkaesque, nor even, as a consolation, distinctly Soderberghian. At best, in either regard, facile: short of inhabiting a worthy homage as a novel compendium; less of an enigmatic labyrinthine odyssey as a desultory carousel of archetypes; nor as much a bemused everyman in Irons’ eponymous figure as a fazed asthmatic - all scurrying in their fedoras and the black-and-white stock. The aura of Soderbergh’s debut prematurely squandered; more of an antecedent to the failure of The Good German.