Kafka (played by Idan Weiss) emerges as a man burdened by fear and self-doubt, yet also marked by a rare capacity for sensitivity and creativity. Tomasz Naumiuk’s cinematography plays a key role here: it pulls the audience right inside Kafka’s world, making the story feel relatable beyond its historical setting.

What stands out is Holland’s willingness to show Kafka not as a distant genius but as a restless, often isolated individual struggling with contradictions. He’s at once sensitive and emotionally raw, but also possesses a literary vision that was ahead of his era. The film balances a close, intimate portrait with a wider historical background.

In this way, it becomes more than just a period piece; it’s a reflection on internal conflict and alienation that still rings true, particularly to younger viewers trying to shape their identities in a confusing world.

For those who struggle with socialisation, the film might hit a particular chord. It speaks to the sense of searching and uncertainty that often accompanies youth, making Kafka’s struggles feel less like historical facts and more like a personal journey. Holland builds an atmosphere that combines intimacy with artistic depth, drawing viewers in while leaving room for sensitivity and emotions.

One of the most significant elements of Franz Kafka is how strongly it reflects the idea of the “Kafkaesque”, a term derived from the author’s surname that is used to describe feelings of oppression, absurdity and being trapped in systems that cannot be fully understood.

The film illustrates this concept via mood, space and emotion rather than explaining it directly – confined interiors and distant authority figures create a sense of quiet anxiety similar to what readers experience in Kafka’s novels. His struggle with power, duty and guilt are often reflected in his works, including The Trial and Metamorphosis.

The line between reality and personal fear often feels blurred, making both viewer (and reader) question whether Kafka is imprisoned more by society or by his own mind. In this way, the film does not only portray Kafka – it is also a key to the emotional logic behind his literature.

Looking ahead, Franz Kafka may also suggest a clear direction in Holland’s future movies. She continues to portray complex individuals caught between personal freedom and outside pressure, often set against a broader historical or political background. Think of Green Border (2023), Spoor (2017), In Darkness (2011), all the way back to Europa, Europa (1990).

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If this trend continues, her upcoming projects are likely to focus less on action itself, but more on psychological depth and moral ambiguity. Holland’s cinema seems to be focused on asking questions rather than providing answers. This consistent interest in human nature has become a recognisable signature of her work.

In the end, Franz Kafka is a film that values emotional truth over easy storytelling. It avoids turning its protagonist into an immortal legend and instead presents him as a sensitive, fractured individual searching for a meaning. Through different effects such as quiet tension, careful visuals and psychological depth, Holland delivers not just a portrait of a writer, but a reflection on loneliness, (Kafkaesque) fear and the need to create.