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Ian Bloom wrote King at age 35 in Los Angeles, after returning from Japan, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy - a silent film in screenplay form, stripped to the bone and carved in fire. Conceived during the recording of Swagger, his first full rock album, and shot in seven days, King is a cinematic scripture: a solo epic performed, directed, and executed entirely by Bloom. No crew. No compromise. No fear.
King is a metaphysical noir of identity, ritual, and return. In the tradition of Le Samouraï, The Passenger, and The Man Who Fell to Earth, it follows the Art Dealer - code name: King - as he navigates a labyrinth of briefcases, statues, contracts, shadows, and fate. There are no spoken lines. Only movement, gesture, smoke, and symbols.
A Beretta and a bottle of wine.
A black card and a woman's photograph.
A hotel room and a burning identity.
This is King - where every object is loaded, every act is ceremonial, and every silence is louder than speech.
Written with Bloom's signature restraint, aesthetic voltage, and cryptographic precision, King is both elegy and manual - a film without dialogue, a script beyond cinema. It is about time, debt, blood, and resurrection - a myth told in keys, cards, coins, and smoke.
This is the silence before destiny speaks.
This is King.
