Kafka Page #18

CUT:

CASTLE GATES - DAWN

Opening. The police Inspector enters the main courtyard.

Behind him come the two secondary policemen. Behind them,

obscurely, a few more.

CASTLE COURTYARD

He and his men pause, reacting ...

... as the few wretched survivors of the Castle prison

stagger out of the shadows to greet them.

CUT:

EMBANKMENT - MORNING

On the Old Town side of the River. Foggy.

KAFKA:

Walks slowly, tiredly. He looks up at the sky, but the sky

is a silver shield against anyone who looks for help from it.

FURTHER ON:

Kafka stops. Turns. Did he hear something other than the

wind and the water?

FURTHER ON:

He passes through a small park, approaching a gate on the

other side of it. Leaves RUSTLING. Mist swirling around

him. He opens the gate and -- BOO!

GABRIELA:

Standing there, half in shadow, in profile. Her glorious

profile.

KAFKA:

Gabriela! -- you did get away.

GABRIELA:

I knew you walked this way to

work. I wanted to find you

before they did.

KAFKA:

-- I've just come from the

Castle. It's over.

GABRIELA:

(her eye glancing

far away)

Over? It's only over when

you can crawl to a clean little

spot on earth where the sun

sometimes shines and you can warm

yourself a bit.

Kafka is beginning to sense something quite wrong with her.

KAFKA:

Gabriela ...?

GABRIELA:

Should I tell you why I joined

our late lamented nihilists?

Why I became a murderer?

Because murder ... is bliss.

(looks at him)

It's easier than you might

think to absorb and assimilate

Evil -- once you've adopted its

procedure.

Kafka just watches her ... The breeze sings in

the air.

GABRIELA:

Have you ever watched a person

deteriorate? Day by day. I

don't mean in a spiritual sense.

Kafka doesn't answer. She turns fully to him. The other

side of her beautiful face is ... fungus. Alive. Seething.

Frothing. Bubbling. Kafka backs away a couple of steps.

GABRIELA:

Only two steps back? Even the

man they left to guard me

retreated further than that.

KAFKA:

I -- I found your jailer.

GABRIELA:

This is the result of their

elixir of youth. They were

to come and check on it during

the night. I contrived to

miss the appointment.

KAFKA:

They're dead now. We can

get help.

GABRIELA:

I know how they reward failure.

If they saw this I'd be rotting

in the quarries by the afternoon

-- with all the others.

KAFKA:

There's a new potion -- he

said it was perfected.

GABRIELA:

I know there is. And you're

what I have to bargain with.

For now you're the last one

in their way.

KAFKA:

I told you, they're dead. It's

finished.

GABRIELA:

Why should I believe a man who

never believed me? They're

absolutely right, you know --

guilt should never be doubted.

It's easier that way.

Kafka starts to back away some more. Gabriela starts to

follow him.

GABRIELA:

I think you've just escaped for

the moment. Just as I did. As

Eduard did. As they let us do.

But only for the moment.

KAFKA:

No -- not this time.

GABRIELA:

I know better than you what

people will say when they have

to. When they brought me in

for questioning I informed on my

friends the very first day.

KAFKA:

-- Listen to me --

GABRIELA:

I do. Always. You understand

the world better than any of

us, Kafka. And what it's

becoming.

(pause)

I've always held you in the

highest regard.

And suddenly she's slashed a knife across Kafka's chest. He

shouts in pain, staggering backwards. She comes after him.

KAFKA:

-- Gabriela!

She comes after him, blade glistening. Kafka does his best

to run.

THE BRIDGE:

Kafka giddily staggers forward, one arm wrapped around his

bleeding chest, Gabriela close behind him. Too close for him

to get away. He turns to face her as he reaches the bridge

and as she comes upon him again with the knife, raising his

arm to block the thrust and hold her wrist back. She's

strong, though, made more so by her madness. She forces him

down to the ground, straddling him, the knife pushing

closer. Kafka gasps in pain, finally succumbs, no longer

able to hold his hand up in defense, simply shutting his eyes

with a terrible sigh to await the fatal stab.

It doesn't come. Almost. But not quite. Gabriela's arm

pauses, shaking in the cool, cloudy air, her sleeve trembling

in the breeze off the River, the sharp blade, inches from

Kafka's throat, flashing in the new day's light.

Gabriela stares away over the River, the destroyed half of

her face in shadow again, the other more strikingly beautiful

than ever. As Kafka watches, passive, she gets off him and

slowly walks to the wall of the bridge, letting the knife

drop from her hand along the way. Kafka manages to lift

himself to his knees, clutching his wound. He looks up.

Gabriela in one graceful movement climbs over the wall and

throws herself into the River.

Kafka lowers his head.

CUT:

CONTINENTAL COFFEE SHOP - MORNING

Quiet in here. Breakfast business not as crowded as

evening. Kafka sits alone at his usual table. Looking

dazed, almost in shock. Mostly just tired. Waiting. He

sips from his coffee cup. He COUGHS a little into his napkin

-- and notices blood on it.

He has a pen in his hand. Tapping it slowly on a newspaper

on the table ...

Bizzlebek comes into the coffee house. He sees Kafka sitting

in the far corner and gives a grand smile and wave. But then

he notices Kafka's other friends entering and he'd rather not

have to deal with them -- so he gives Kafka a "catch you

later" gesture and turns onto his own usual stool at the bar.

Kafka stares at his friends over there. They're taking off

their coats and greeting other people. The girl, Anna, is

the first to start walking to join him.

He starts to write, a first line that has occurred to him,

the pen moving as if he can't help himself ...

KAFKA'S VOICE

Dearest Father ...

Anna's approaching. Kafka just watches her coming. He

knows he'll end up going out with her, sleeping with her,

getting engaged to her ... We see the future on Kafka's

face

KAFKA'S VOICE

You asked me recently why I

maintain that I am afraid

of you ...

CUT:

KAFKA'S HOUSE - NIGHT

Alone again in his little room, Kafka writes on into the

night. The famous "Letter To His Father" is pages and pages

long. We notice too that his chest has been bandaged. He

COUGHS a little as he forces himself to keep writing.

KAFKA'S VOICE

Naturally things cannot in

reality fit together the way

the evidence does in my letter

-- life is more than a Chinese

puzzle. But in my opinion

something has been achieved

which so closely approximates

the truth that it might reassure

us both a little and make our

living and our dying easier.

FADE OUT:

FADE IN:

WATERFRONT WHARVES - MORNING

The Assistants sit on a big packing crate, brushing soot from

their suits, shaking dust out of their hair, fiddling with

the rips in their jackets and trousers.

LUDWIG:

We could go back to the office.

Explain ourselves to the Chief

Clerk.

OSKAR:

They'd drive us away. That

Kafka's made things very hot

for us.

LUDWIG:

I understand he was wounded

in the lung.

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