Kafka Page #4
- PG-13
- Year:
- 1991
- 98 min
- 680 Views
MARGARETE:
Who?
My friend Eduard from the office --
I've brought him here lots of times
-- you used to marvel at his travel
stories.
JULIUS:
Oh, him.
KAFKA:
What d'you mean, oh him? He's
a perfectly nice person, he's never
missed a day before.
ERNST:
Perhaps he's taken up with those
traveling players you two were
so fond of.
KAFKA:
No, it's me who always wanted to
run away with them -- except that
that life would be far too hectic
for me. I'm worried about him, no
one's seen him.
STELLA:
Haven't you ever called in sick
and gone roaming about, free of
responsibility to anyone, if only
for a day?
KAFKA:
When you work for a medical firm
you can't call in sick. They know
malingerers like a dog knows fleas.
ANNA:
You work in the insurance department?
KAFKA:
You have been hearing the sordid
side then.
MARGARETE:
Be pleased -- you constantly inspire
people to take an interest in your
life.
ANNA:
I should think it's very interesting
work.
Kafka shrugs shyly.
KAFKA:
no ambition.
CUT:
Smoke heavier in the air, the coffee house more crowded with
strange groups of characters. Kafka and his friends
preparing to leave.
STELLA:
The cabaret will be packed this
time of night -- we'll never get in.
JULIUS:
Well, it has to be the cabaret
because there's nowhere else to go.
MARGARET:
Home, I think.
JULIUS:
Home?
MARGARET:
(head on Ernst's shoulder)
You know I can't stay up late.
VOICE:
Home is the last resort --
BIZZLEBEK:
The owner of the voice. A man sitting at the bar nearby,
turning on his stool to face them. A dissipated dandy of a
man.
ERNST:
(introducing him)
-- Do you know Bizzlebek --
the gravedigger?
BIZZLEBEK:
Stonecutter, if you please.
MARGARETE:
Sculptor, if only he'd admit it.
BIZZLEBEK:
No one should admit being an artist
unless they're paid for it. If
you go to the cabaret mention my
name -- they'll find a table for you.
Turning round again.
ERNST:
Bizzlebek has ways and means denied
lesser mortals. It comes from working
in the cemetery all day -- he's able
to transcent the physical world.
Bizz1ebek turns round again, with a bored sign.
BIZZLEBEK:
No -- it only makes me view people
dispassionately as so many ... slabs.
He looks about, characterizing various coffee house types:
BIZZLEBEK:
Quartz ... slate ... gravel ...
granite ... flint ...
(and then)
Marble.
It's GABRIELA from the office. Kafka is surprised to see
her, instinctively walking over to where she's sitting at a
far table.
JULIUS:
My God, look, he's marching forward
willingly to make human contact.
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