Kafka Page #10
- PG-13
- Year:
- 1991
- 98 min
- 697 Views
KAFKA:
He's the clerk who died last week.
From the insurance department
The Keeper of the files looks extremely displeased. He
pushes past Kafka, going back the way they've come.
KAFKA:
(follows anxiously)
What's the matter?
KEEPER:
Why would we keep files on dead
employees? All old files are sent
up to the Castle. Do you think we
have room for two hundred years worth
personnel records?
KAFKA:
(dodges another
paper landslide)
It's gone out so quickly?
KEEPER:
Whenever an employee departs, shall
we say, it's up to the head of his
department to requisition his file,
reassign any outstanding claims,
and send it off.
KAFKA:
-- You mean my Chief has it.
Documents come crashing down and we can't see Kafka and the
Keeper anymore.
CUT:
Looks up from his desk and sticks his chin out, which is his
way of asking Kafka what the hell he wants. Kafka dares to
come in.
KAFKA:
Excuse me, sir -- I understand
you have Eduard Raban's file.
CHIEF CLERK:
I do.
KAFKA:
I wonder if I might look to see
if there's an address for family
-- I thought I'd like to write
to them.
The Chief Clerk has little time for such sentimentality. He
gives Kafka a little exasperated look before reaching down to
-- a right hand desk drawer -- which Kafka notices -- and
taking out a folder.
CHIEF CLERK:
No -- just as I thought -- no
entry for family.
Kafka nods a bit, wondering what to do now.
CHIEF CLERK:
KAFKA:
No -- I just -- I feel a sense of
obligation. He was my friend --
if I can be of any help -- closing
his affairs.
CHIEF CLERK:
(putting file away
again)
No, there's only one report to
complete. I'll be doing it myself
and submitting it to the Castle
today or tomorrow.
KAFKA:
(as ingenuously as
possible)
I see -- it's just the Erlanger
claim then.
CHIEF CLERK:
(looks up)
The Orlac claim.
KAFKA:
Sorry, yes -- well -- thank you,
sir.
The Chief Clerk watches him as he starts to leave.
CHIEF CLERK:
Kafka.
Kafka reluctantly turns.
CHIEF CLERK:
You're too sensitive. Let your
friend rest in peace.
(returning to
paperwork)
I've known suicides. Such a song-
and-dance about nothing.
Kafka nods once.
KAFKA:
Yes, sir.
The Chief Clerk looks at him with seemingly genuine misguided
concern.
CHIEF CLERK:
Give it up.
He goes back to his paperwork. Kafka leaves.
OUTSIDE CHIEF CLERK'S OFFICE
Kafka shuts the door behind him, breathes a sigh of relief.
CUT:
Looking very annoyed, leading Kafka back through the stacks.
KEEPER:
If it was Accounts you wanted
why did you ask for Employees?
KAFKA:
Orlac is an account?
KEEPER:
It's a factory in the northern
mountains. One of our best
customers.
(as they disappear
around a corner)
Without a proper request I'm not
obliged to do this, you understand
-- but I'll make an exception on
this one occasion.
ANOTHER ROW:
Kafka glances nervously around as shelves CREAK threateningly
under the weight of documents. Up on a ladder, the Keeper of
the Files finds the Orlac folder.
KEEPER:
At least the account is current
even if the employee isn't.
He pulls it out -- with great difficulty. The Orlac file is
very, very thick. Kafka prepares himself to catch it, but
the Keeper of the Files manages to hand it down to him
without serious injury. Still, it's quite cumbersome and
heavier than Kafka expects.
KEEPER:
(coming down ladder)
That place has so many accidents,
it's a good thing the type of
peasants who live up there don't
seem to have any trouble propagating
their race.
Kafka winces at that slur but says nothing about it.
KAFKA:
(leafing through pages)
All these in the last year?
KEEPER:
You must have read about it in the
papers -- there was a terrible
cave-in. It wouldn't have been so
bad, but even the Medical Officer
for the district was killed!
KAFKA:
I did read that. They gave him
a posthumous medal.
KEEPER:
(nods)
Dr. Murnau was the bravest of men.
He spent an entire career in those
backwaters with no regard for
personal gain. A great loss.
KAFKA:
(a particular document)
This is the cross-reference of
clerks who've worked on Orlac
claims?
KEEPER:
(nods)
Is your friend's name among
them?
(Kafka shakes his
head)
Then he only worked on the one
case.
(taking file back
again)
Your Chief will send me the final
summation when he's finished with
it.
KAFKA:
Once a file's been sent to the
Caste, is it possible to recall
it for review?
KEEPER:
(going back up
ladder)
Of course not. Only by a Director
of the firm. Who'd want to let in
all kinds of riff-raff off the
streets?
KAFKA:
What good are records if they're
not open for public inspection?
KEEPER:
(stuffing file back
in place)
These laws have been with us for
centuries -- how can you doubt
them?
KAFKA:
What if I petitioned one of the
Directors?
KEEPER:
(coming back down)
You do not summon them -- they
summon you -- and this, of course,
hardly ever happens, if at all.
The Directors are an eccentric lot
and by nature cautious.
KAFKA:
Where do our records go to in the
Castle?
KEEPER:
(starting to walk
away)
We're a medical firm, aren't we?
They go to the Medical Records
Section.
KAFKA:
KEEPER:
It so happens, my dear simple sir,
that the Head of Medical Records at
the Castle is one of the Directors
of this firm.
Kafka scowls, and follows the Keeper of the Files in silence.
CUT:
THE OFFICE - EVENING
Kafka works at his desk, finger tapping at an adding machine.
He checks the office clock -- nearly the end of the day.
THE ASSISTANTS:
One is sweeping the floor. The other is scribbling at their
desk. His pen blotches his paper. He has a fit and crumples
it up and throws it down.
KAFKA:
Looks over at the Chief Clerk's office -- sees him writing
intently at his desk, pausing to turn on a lamp.
THE ASSISTANTS:
The sweeping one bangs his knee against a desk and starts
hopping about. The pen of the other one leaks again. He
crumples up his new sheet and flings it away even more
angrily than before. Then he examines his pen, determines
that the cap at the back is loose, and starts banging it on
his desk in an attempt to tighten it -- while the other
assistant keeps jumping around holding his hurt kneecap.
KAFKA:
Glances over his shoulder at them, starts to say something --
but then notices Burgel, not far away, sometimes blocked by
other employees, walking in the direction of the Chief
Clerk's office.
THE ASSISTANTS:
The one assistant has just fixed his pen when the other one,
still hopping around, bumps into him, causing him to knock
over a bottle of ink. The two of them start shoving each
other about.
Kafka whirls around, can't ignore them any longer.
KAFKA:
Do you mind!
The Assistants look at him, surprised at this outburst.
OSKAR:
-- I was just trying to finish
some work!
KAFKA:
You mean you've actually begun
some?
LUDWIG:
(pointing at Oskar)
-- Just because he's done nothing
today, he doesn't want me to show
him up!
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