A mosaic of the author in the spirit of his own language and style. Franz is a melancholic, kaleidoscopic portrait of Franz Kafka, rooted in a deep attempt to understand him from all sides.
It is not easy to create an encompassing portrayal of a literary figure as reserved as Franz Kafka. Few have tried to capture the author’s life amid Prague’s complex cultural identity, World War I, and his own inner turmoil, often turning to pinpointed moments, as in The Glory Of Life (2024), or to fictionalisation, as in Steven Soderbergh’s Film Noir Kafka (1991). Yet Agnieszka Holland manages to paint an intimate picture of the writer’s brief life and long legacy in Franz. Likely fuelled by her love for Kafka, whom she has often cited as an inspiration, Holland’s gritty, immersive cinema yields an exquisite, often surreal portrait.
Flitting periodically between his childhood and adulthood from the very first scene, the biopic establishes the life and work of a flawed and complex figure, moulded by an overbearing, traditionalist father (played by the talented Peter Kurth), a bleak bureaucratic backdrop, and a chaotic home. The nonlinear storytelling is punctuated by direct addresses to the camera from the people in his life, breaking the fourth wall and complicating the narrative form while further demystifying his character. These brief monologues, like character statements, convey more about the man otherwise unseen, as his sister Ottla (Katharina Stark) reads from his diary, or his close friend Max Brod (Sebastian Schwarz) pays him compliments. These overlapping methods of telling Kafka’s story create a scattered but reflective depiction that goes beyond a one-dimensional biopic.
At times, the film has a phantasmagoric edge, animating the dark and strange themes that appear in Kafka’s writing. Holland once again departs from conventional biographical retelling with these dreamlike sequences that interweave the man with the imagery of his fiction. References to his books appear throughout, sometimes subtly, in the form of a cockroach evoking ‘The Metamorphosis’, or more directly, as a short, harrowing visualisation of ‘The Penal Colony’ that appears when he reads his story aloud.
Idan Weiss does well as the stoic and diffident Franz, not only because of his close likeness. In his first major role, Weiss grounds the fragmented film with a convincing performance that tethers these fantastical interludes to the reality of Kafka’s character. From his young adulthood to his death at 40 from tuberculosis, and every scattered fragment that connects them, Weiss portrays the writer’s short, melancholic existence with nuance and complexity.
All in all, it is an unorthodox biopic for an unorthodox author, paying tribute to the surrealist fantasy that tinges his work. Most compellingly, however, it interweaves his life with a critical reflection on the legacy that follows it.
The film, already constructed in order of relevance instead of chronology, is also filled with present-day interjections that interrupt the stylised cinematography with the vivid imagery of museums or tourist attractions. These moments show the veneration of Kafka and his work, highlighting the huge success he never experienced while alive (as a museum guide claims in one scene, for every literary word he wrote, 10 million have been written about him). But what these moments also show is the near-mythologisation of his character.
As with many iconified literary figures, the film makes clear how our society can aggrandise artists beyond authenticity, and the underlying consumerism that drives it in the present day. In humorous scenes, we see Japanese tourists and museum visitors fall for this, as they can select the audio option to “speak with Kafka” or buy Kafka Burgers with fries because “Kafka loved potatoes”. At times, it can be a jarring break from the author’s story. But, at others, it adds to the complexity and anachronism that make the film so interesting, as eyes look in on him through holes in the wall, or as we witness him trapped within the spectacle of his own posthumous iconography.
Holland and her co-writer, Marek Epstein, manage to depict the memorialisation and mythology that have since formed around the figure, delving not only into his childhood, friendships, lovers, and hardships, but also into his enduring legacy. They convey the double-edged sword of his posthumous success, showing the deserved triumph he never saw in his tragically short life, as well as the icon he is almost reduced to.
In Franz, we see a mosaic of the author in the spirit of his own language and style. It is a radical departure from regular biographical storytelling that better illustrates a man of such profound inwardness, as well as the impact of his work. It is a melancholic, kaleidoscopic portrait of Franz Kafka, rooted in a deep attempt to understand him from all sides.
Franz is now showing at the 24th Kinoteka Polish Film Festival.
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