The Castle (1997, Austria)Did you ever get the feeling that even though you and everyone else are speaking the same language, that you really aren't communicating the same message? And that no matter what you do or how you express your needs, no one seems to listen, even if they tell you that they are? This kind of demoralizing and disempowering sensation is often found in arbitrarily bureaucratic settings found in the stories penned by Czech author Franz Kafka--described as "Kafkaesque". The Castle (1997, Austria) is an adaptation of an "unfinished" story by Kafka, and embodies the same Kafkaesque tropes that have made his stories so iconic, evoking all too familiar feelings of futility.
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Written and directed by Michael Haneke, The Castle is fundamentally a black comedy and a biting critique of arbitrary social conventions. It is the story of a land surveyor named "K." (Ulrich Mühe), who comes to a small, practically snowbound village for a job which he says that he was hired for. His presumed employer is a man called "Klamm", who appears to run (or at least be high up in the ranks of) the administrative body of the village called "The Castle". The only problem is that no one in the village seems to have any idea that there is a surveyor coming; they have no room for him, and he is treated with such cold indifference as to be nearly hostile. Trying to clear up the ambiguity and confusion of his arrival only results in K. experiencing even more hurdles to surmount. Every time he tries to make contact with The Castle, he is met with resistance--either by angry receptionists over the phone, or geographical improbabilities, like inexplicably being physically unable to approach The Castle while trudging through the snow. In fact, almost everything is covered in snow, and blizzards blow often, establishing a bleached out, emotionally dessicated feeling all around. In true Kafka fashion (à la "The Trial"), any event that seems like it might put K. even a fraction closer to meeting Klamm or getting to The Castle to confirm his appointment turns out to be a false lead at best, or dig him deeper into a rut in the village at worst. In one instance, he visits a tavern and strikes up a conversation with the barmaid named Frieda (Susanne Lothar), who claims that she is Klamm's mistress. K. suddenly finds himself drawn to her, and he seduces her; shortly thereafter, they are engaged, and not only is he no closer to meeting with Klamm or clarity about why he is here, but Frieda becomes increasingly spastic and compels him to take a job at the school as a janitor instead. I'm sure that this is far from what K. had in mind when he played his hand in this metaphorical game of poker, replete with failed bluffs and defeatist folds.
Kafka's stories have been adapted to film before; one of the best examples was Orson Welles's The Trial, with Anthony Perkins as the skittish Josef K. There are going to be comparisons made between that film and The Castle, and with good reason. Aside from the fact that K. identified himself as "Josef" briefly over the phone while pretending to be his own assistant--he is burdened with a pair of giggling buffoons named Artur (Frank Giering) and Jeremias (Felix Eitner), who don't know anything about surveying instead--both men are outsiders in a madhouse version of our world that operates on its own rules; and woe betide anyone who doesn't dance to their tune. Not that there are any threats of violence accompanying K.'s transgressions, just chastisement and ostracization, but that seems to be enough. Mühe's K. isn't entirely the passive, almost impotent character that Perkins's Josef is, not that this does him any good anyway. He expresses his frustration at being jerked around, although doesn't get visibly angry per se. He tells his "assistants" in no uncertain terms that they are incompetent, but despite this, seems unable to shake them...like they were lost puppy dogs or something. He seems to have grown affectionate for Frieda, and is disappointed when their relationship degrades, but moves on (eventually) without significant grief toward his ultimate goal, which has evolved from simply performing his duties as a land surveyor into admittance into The Castle and meeting Klamm. It might be at first that K. is merely stoic, but eventually it appears more like he becomes increasingly resigned to his purgatorial fate. Perhaps that makes his form of "defeat" worse than Josef's; he doesn't go out with a bang or even with whimper--everything just ends. It's one final joke played on K. and the audience by Haneke and Kafka both.
There is something that stuck with me after watching The Castle, however, which I cannot help but believe is more than mere coincidence: the protagonist's name, K. It matches the first initial of Klamm, and there seem to be some suggestions that K. is either becoming Klamm (in a sense) by way of his adventure, or has been, in fact, Klamm all along. Viewing The Castle from this point of view makes it less of a traditional Kafkaesque siege on the individual by way of the dull battering ram of bureaucracy and more of a psychological drama. If K. is Klamm, then it would explain why he is treated so oddly by the townsfolk, as well as why we (of course) never see Klamm. Yet this means that the entire village would have to be in on a kind of conspiracy (or at least enough of the residents would have to be) to make such a ruse work. And that deception is to fool K. into believing that he is not Klamm by treating him like such an unwelcome stranger as to make it seem like he could never have been a neighbor to these people at all. But perhaps it goes even deeper than that. Perhaps no one heretofore has even met Klamm, and that's true even for Frieda. After all, we only have her hearsay that she was Klamm's mistress, and she is proven time and again to be a convincing liar. Maybe the irony is that, if she is lying, K. tries to make her an "honest woman" after he seduces her. These kinds of nuggets of dark, cynical humor are a staple of Haneke's work, such as his harrowing but also intensely black "comedy", Funny Games; so seeing similar themes in The Castle should come as no surprise.
The Castle was a "made for TV" movie in Austria, a connotation in the United States which suggests reduced quality and mere programming filler. It was also released in the same year as Haneke's more famous Funny Games, and included much of the same cast. And while it is not unusual for an auteur to employ his favored actors, this reminds me of the similar dynamic between a pair of films by Werner Herzog: Nosferatu: Phantom of the Night and his follow up with his star, Klaus Kinski, Woyzeck. Herzog made Woyzeck mere days after wrapping Nosferatu, with the intent of capturing the stress and anxiety in Kinski for the protagonist in the latter film. I have to wonder if a similar thought crossed Haneke's mind when he made both of these movies in the same year, and furthermore, the question lingers: which movie came first? Such an approach to viewing the later film would no doubt inform future viewings, but maybe--like the problem of Klamm--it is more interesting to be left guessing in the end. To quote Roger Ebert, "answers are a form of defeat", meaning it is always more compelling to be left with questions after the credits roll--a point made abundantly clear at the conclusion of The Castle.
Recommended for: Fans of a brainy, cynical, and offbeat black comedy about a man who finds himself suddenly at odds with the way that his new community operates on a fundamental level--a stranger in a strange land. As a movie originally made for Austrian television, The Castle is a little tough to come by, although at the time of my viewing, I watched it on the amazing "Criterion Channel" app, so I would recommend seeking it out there.
Kafka's stories have been adapted to film before; one of the best examples was Orson Welles's The Trial, with Anthony Perkins as the skittish Josef K. There are going to be comparisons made between that film and The Castle, and with good reason. Aside from the fact that K. identified himself as "Josef" briefly over the phone while pretending to be his own assistant--he is burdened with a pair of giggling buffoons named Artur (Frank Giering) and Jeremias (Felix Eitner), who don't know anything about surveying instead--both men are outsiders in a madhouse version of our world that operates on its own rules; and woe betide anyone who doesn't dance to their tune. Not that there are any threats of violence accompanying K.'s transgressions, just chastisement and ostracization, but that seems to be enough. Mühe's K. isn't entirely the passive, almost impotent character that Perkins's Josef is, not that this does him any good anyway. He expresses his frustration at being jerked around, although doesn't get visibly angry per se. He tells his "assistants" in no uncertain terms that they are incompetent, but despite this, seems unable to shake them...like they were lost puppy dogs or something. He seems to have grown affectionate for Frieda, and is disappointed when their relationship degrades, but moves on (eventually) without significant grief toward his ultimate goal, which has evolved from simply performing his duties as a land surveyor into admittance into The Castle and meeting Klamm. It might be at first that K. is merely stoic, but eventually it appears more like he becomes increasingly resigned to his purgatorial fate. Perhaps that makes his form of "defeat" worse than Josef's; he doesn't go out with a bang or even with whimper--everything just ends. It's one final joke played on K. and the audience by Haneke and Kafka both.
There is something that stuck with me after watching The Castle, however, which I cannot help but believe is more than mere coincidence: the protagonist's name, K. It matches the first initial of Klamm, and there seem to be some suggestions that K. is either becoming Klamm (in a sense) by way of his adventure, or has been, in fact, Klamm all along. Viewing The Castle from this point of view makes it less of a traditional Kafkaesque siege on the individual by way of the dull battering ram of bureaucracy and more of a psychological drama. If K. is Klamm, then it would explain why he is treated so oddly by the townsfolk, as well as why we (of course) never see Klamm. Yet this means that the entire village would have to be in on a kind of conspiracy (or at least enough of the residents would have to be) to make such a ruse work. And that deception is to fool K. into believing that he is not Klamm by treating him like such an unwelcome stranger as to make it seem like he could never have been a neighbor to these people at all. But perhaps it goes even deeper than that. Perhaps no one heretofore has even met Klamm, and that's true even for Frieda. After all, we only have her hearsay that she was Klamm's mistress, and she is proven time and again to be a convincing liar. Maybe the irony is that, if she is lying, K. tries to make her an "honest woman" after he seduces her. These kinds of nuggets of dark, cynical humor are a staple of Haneke's work, such as his harrowing but also intensely black "comedy", Funny Games; so seeing similar themes in The Castle should come as no surprise.
The Castle was a "made for TV" movie in Austria, a connotation in the United States which suggests reduced quality and mere programming filler. It was also released in the same year as Haneke's more famous Funny Games, and included much of the same cast. And while it is not unusual for an auteur to employ his favored actors, this reminds me of the similar dynamic between a pair of films by Werner Herzog: Nosferatu: Phantom of the Night and his follow up with his star, Klaus Kinski, Woyzeck. Herzog made Woyzeck mere days after wrapping Nosferatu, with the intent of capturing the stress and anxiety in Kinski for the protagonist in the latter film. I have to wonder if a similar thought crossed Haneke's mind when he made both of these movies in the same year, and furthermore, the question lingers: which movie came first? Such an approach to viewing the later film would no doubt inform future viewings, but maybe--like the problem of Klamm--it is more interesting to be left guessing in the end. To quote Roger Ebert, "answers are a form of defeat", meaning it is always more compelling to be left with questions after the credits roll--a point made abundantly clear at the conclusion of The Castle.
Recommended for: Fans of a brainy, cynical, and offbeat black comedy about a man who finds himself suddenly at odds with the way that his new community operates on a fundamental level--a stranger in a strange land. As a movie originally made for Austrian television, The Castle is a little tough to come by, although at the time of my viewing, I watched it on the amazing "Criterion Channel" app, so I would recommend seeking it out there.