You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.
modrod:

The Trial- Franz Kafka
This trial is nothing more than the guilt of simply existing.
Opening Line:
“Someone must have been telling lies about Joseph K., for without having done anything wrong he was arrested one fine morning”

modrod:

The Trial- Franz Kafka

This trial is nothing more than the guilt of simply existing.

Opening Line:

“Someone must have been telling lies about Joseph K., for without having done anything wrong he was arrested one fine morning”

Franz Kafka Rock Opera [from Home Movies]

Hope? Oh yes, there is hope - infinite hope. But not for us.
alaina:

There are people who love puppets, there are people who love Kafka, and there is almost certainly a subset of people who love both puppets and Kafka. Their moment has arrived.
“Puppet Kafka” at Here Arts Center takes plot elements from a couple of Kafka’s works and merges them with elements of Kafka’s life to create a — well, to create something about 85 minutes long. It’s not really clear what this piece, written by B. Walker Sampson and staged by Drama of Works, is trying to accomplish, but there are dashes of inventiveness and humor. Members of the aforementioned subset, at least, will feel well rewarded.
The focal point of the play is “The Metamorphosis,” Kafka’s story about a man who turns into a giant bug. But there are also elements of “The Trial,” in which a character named K is arrested for unknown reasons, and exchanges between Kafka and his friend Max Brod, who preserved Kafka’s works after his death against Kafka’s wishes.
Most of the fun here is in the puppet creations. The bug is a delightful critter concocted from baskets and other odds and ends. A life-size inquisitor (manipulated at times by two puppeteers) has enough body language that you hardly notice his lack of a head. Flexible-necked lamps also come alive, to startling effect.
The puppeteers are fully visible, and the director, Gretchen Van Lente, has a fine time playing with perspective. The humans look like giants. It’s disorienting, and maybe that’s the point.  [here]

alaina:

There are people who love puppets, there are people who love Kafka, and there is almost certainly a subset of people who love both puppets and Kafka. Their moment has arrived.

“Puppet Kafka” at Here Arts Center takes plot elements from a couple of Kafka’s works and merges them with elements of Kafka’s life to create a — well, to create something about 85 minutes long. It’s not really clear what this piece, written by B. Walker Sampson and staged by Drama of Works, is trying to accomplish, but there are dashes of inventiveness and humor. Members of the aforementioned subset, at least, will feel well rewarded.

The focal point of the play is “The Metamorphosis,” Kafka’s story about a man who turns into a giant bug. But there are also elements of “The Trial,” in which a character named K is arrested for unknown reasons, and exchanges between Kafka and his friend Max Brod, who preserved Kafka’s works after his death against Kafka’s wishes.

Most of the fun here is in the puppet creations. The bug is a delightful critter concocted from baskets and other odds and ends. A life-size inquisitor (manipulated at times by two puppeteers) has enough body language that you hardly notice his lack of a head. Flexible-necked lamps also come alive, to startling effect.

The puppeteers are fully visible, and the director, Gretchen Van Lente, has a fine time playing with perspective. The humans look like giants. It’s disorienting, and maybe that’s the point.  [here]

I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we’re reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to. But we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.