last night, we went to a play at the bindery called joseph k. the set was sparse: a large metal hamster wheel and a magician's box, which, at the top, sat a chair, desk with a typewriter and kafka with large black circles under his eyes. throughout the play, kafka reassures joseph k that he loves him and admits that some of the things that are happening he didn't intend. joseph k finds himself awake and accused and the build up to the trial is cluttered with interruptions from the landlord, the slutty tenant, court officials, a musical act, and kafka, who at one point trades places with jk:
"The story plays out in necessarily inevitable and murky fashion. Everyone disappoints Joseph, including, ultimately, his own author. Joseph pleads with Kafka to save him, but Kafka wonders if his characters are ever truly in his control — a point viscerally demonstrated when Kafka's fictional lawyer seizes him and, finding him as guilty as Joseph, slices Kafka's tongue out."
the set was industrial and shadowy. the props, which included a full, and later, a fully eaten apple, were proficient. the dialogue was lustful and quick. the play was stunningly imagined, cast, and performed. and it was written by a local playwright: martin mcgovern.