It is the early hours of Monday morning and I’ve realised that I haven’t really updated by blog much.
My girlfriend’s train was supposed to get back into Birmingham at around midnight, so I’ve just spent the best part of two hours waiting for her to get in whilst reverse-engineering my typewriter after it mysteriously stopped working. Now working, despite inky fingerprints on the keys, I have my first scans of typewriter text for my project, to be cut up and spliced throughout. I will, undoubtably, need more, but this is a decent start. Tomorrow’s 16mm film workshop will hopefully be really useful, as I definitely plan to use some for my final project. Even better would be if what I shoot tomorrow can actually be used, but that depends on how the workshop goes and who’s there I suppose. If time allows, I would like to try some more microscopy, and then book out a photography or film studio in which to record the actual metamorphosis. I’ll also need to try and find out about set-building and what I can do with the time I have available. I have a first draft script now (below), so my job for Monday evening is composition. I want to keep in with the style of ‘Se7en’ and I always love Trent Reznor’s scores, so I’ll stick to that sort of style. If nothing comes of it, then I’ll try sampling something from Nine Inch Nails’ free-to-use tracks from ‘Ghosts’, or else just use a pre-existing song.
As Joshua Cohan says in his introduction to ‘He: Shorter Writings of Franz Kafka,’ “Reading about Franz Kafka is a pleasure, whose punishment is this: writing about it too.“
I’ve spent hours (genuinely, hours) trawling over different version of his books, trying to find the most ‘accurate’ translations. From my limited German, I know what much of the original text says not not how translate it properly, so going over it myself would never cut it.
Some translate Gregor as turning into a beetle or cockroach, but the German “Ungeziefer” directly translates as “vermin” or “pest”, which is what I have gone with. The cockroach always seemed to strongly and armoured, when Gregor was supposed to represent the weak and feeble, which is why Berkoff decided to go with ‘beetle’.
I like different translations for different reasons, and so ultimately have a Frankenstein’s Monster of a ‘script’ with parts taken from all over the place.
Above is a selection of Waterstones’ offerings — combined with the four versions I already had at home (okay, one may be a duplicate, but still) and Berkoff’s play, there is plenty to go on, alongside Kafka’s German original, to try and piece together some form of script. This is what I have so far. It is a beginning, and then an end. I still need to complete the middle, as it’s currently a bit abrupt. Ultimately, Mr Samsa becomes infuriated with Gregor, the whole family starts to realise that they relied on Gregor for almost everything (Berkovian-ised as “Cash!” “Gregor!” “Food!” “Gregor!” “Beer!” “Gregor!” “Cigars!” “Gregor!” And so on. Mr Samsa, in a fit of rage, throws apples at Gregor, and one lodges into his abdomen, ultimately killing him. He drags himself into his room to die.
The sound of scratching, then silence.
SFX: Typewriter typing.
Letter-by-letter typewriter font, with appropriate smudges etc.:
“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic vermin.”
Flickers in time with SFX and music:
“Als Gregor Samsa eines Morgens aus unruhigen Träumen erwachte, fand er sich in seinem Bett zu einem ungeheuren Ungeziefer verwandelt.”
SFX: Typewriter winding. Text winds up with it.
“The Metamorphosis.”
Line below, with the three aligned left - right:
“A FILM by Noah Read.”
“Based on the NOVEL by Franz Kafka.”
“And the PLAY by Steven Berkoff.”
Fast snap shots of bug microscopy filtered in with fast-paced shots of GREGOR’s transformation.
GREGOR: (voice)
What’s the matter with me?
What if I went back to sleep for a while, and forgot about all this nonsense?
MR S, MRS S and GRETE all behave in ways that are not naturalistic. Their voices are exaggerated, and their movements are larger-than-life. They are not pantomime, they are just their personalities.
All shots of MR S, MRS S and GRETE are of their feet, from Gregor’s point of view.
Still shots mixed in with microscopy shots. The transformation starts. High angle. Gregor falls.
CHIEF C: (voice, echoey)
Something’s fallen down in there.
GRETE: (hard left, whisper, delayed, and then surrounding)
Gregor, the Chief Clerk’s here
GREGOR: (unspoken)
I know.
MR S: (voice, echoey)
Gregor, the Chief Clerk has come, and wants to know why you weren’t on the early train. We don’t know what to tell him. So kindly open the door. I’m sure he’ll turn a blind eye to the untidiness in your room.
CHEIF C: (voice, cheery)
Good morning, Mr Samsa!
Close up fast-cut shots of GREGOR’s eyes, bulging and bloodshot.
Brief shots of Chief C. Immaculately dresses. Hat under right arm, overcoat undone and showing his crisp suit underneath. Nearly combed back hair, clean-shaven, perhaps moustachioed.
MR & MRS S: (voice)
He’s not feeling well.
MR S: (voice)
Believe me, Chief Clerk. How, otherwise, could Gregor miss the train! You know that boy has nothing but work in his head! It almost worries me that he never goes out on his evenings off; he’s been in the city now for the past week, but he’s spent every evening at home.
MEMORY: Gregor sat at a table, reading a newspaper, holding a coffee mug with a coffee pot on the table. Mr S sat opposite, smoking a cigar, with a glass of beer.
MEMORY: Grete brings Gregor a glass of milk at his bedroom door.
IMAGE: Spilt milk. The residue of milk boiled dry. Microscopy shots.
MEMORY: Gregor gathers his briefcase of cloth samples. Gregor on a train.
IMAGE: Torn cloth. Gregor’s clothes stretching and tearing off his body.
SFX: Ripping fabric, stretching flesh.
MR S: (Cont’d)
He sits at the table, quietly reading the newspaper, or studying the railway timetable. His only hobby is a little occasional woodwork. In the past two or three evenings, he’s carved a little picture frame; I think you’ll be surprised by the workmanship.
IMAGE: Newspaper flashes. Burnt papers. The frame. Scorch marks. Flames. Foreshadow of it smashing.
SFX: Burning, fire, scratching.
IMAGE: The metamorphosis continues. Gregor cries out. Cracks and scratches and pulling flesh.
CHEIF C: (Calling out)
Mr Samsa! What’s the matter? You’ve barricaded yourself into your room, you give us one-word answers, you cause your parents grave and needless anxiety and - this just by the way - you’re neglecting your official duties in a quite unconscionable way. I had taken you for a quiet and sensible individual, but you seem set on indulging a bizarre array of moods.
MEMORY: Gregor holding a telephone to his ear, sat behind an office desk, furiously noting down the order details of a sale.
Gregor: (Crying out)
Mr Cheif Clerk, I’ll be down shortly! Please send my regards to the clerks! The 8 o’clock - train!
In the gap, he cries out again.
SFX: Footsteps leaving, and the slamming of a door.
The ceiling. Closing eyes. The scuttles of a beetle. The cries of a man. Blurriness and fading. The Samsas’ voices fade to silence, underscored by a single musical tone.
Mr S:
Gregor!
Mrs S:
Gregor!
Grete:
Gregor!
* * *
A time lapse shot of day to night.
Typewriter types:
“That evening.”
Flickers to:
“An diesem Abend”
Scrolls away, as before.
SFX: Ringing ears.
Mr S: Gregor! Wake up, boy.
SFX: Banging on bedroom door.
IMAGE: The first property static shots. The bedsheets. Underneath, something stirs.
MRS S opens the door. Sees Gregor, an insect, screams, and appears to feint.
Shock-horror-style shot from very low angle, dolly zoom. —- Dolly zoom on feet? Or first shot of face?
GRETE comes running, sees her passed-out mother, and goes to fetch some smelling salts to wake her mother.
MR S: (shouts, off)
What has that boy done now?
GREGOR: (to himself)
I must help Grete help mother.
Low shot, from Gregor’s point of view, coming up to Grete, who is looking through bottles of various medicines. She looks down, screams and drops a bottle, which smashes.
Gregor cries out, a splinter cutting into his face. Blood.
He staggers back and knocks into the sideboard, knocking over his picture frame, which also smashes. Memory from before.
MR S:
We cannot have this continuing. The boy needs to snap out of it.
GREGOR cries out. GRETE’s hand wafts towards MRS S.
MR S (cont’d): (shouts)
What shall we do with you?
GRETE:
Gregor!
MR S:
What do you need?
GRETE:
Gregor!
MR S: (more aggressive)
You have to keep this house looked after, son!
GRETE:
Father!
MR S:
You should be providing for your mother and your sister! I managed to for years, until I caught this damned bullet in my leg!
GRETE:
Gregor!
MR S:
Cash!
GRETE:
Gregor!
Mr S:
Food!
GRETE:
Gregor!
Mr S:
Beer!
GRETE:
Gregor!
Mr S:
Cigars!
GRETE:
Father, leave my brother be!
MR S:
Apple for you, Gregor?
MR S throws apples at Gregor, they skate and bounce of the floor and the walls, until one finally lodges in his abdomen. Black.
Static shots. Blood pooling on the floor, dripping down the walls. Bits of browned apple scatter the floors and furniture. A fly feasts.
Mr S:
Close that door, Grete.
Shot of Gregor, a beetle, upturned, in the chink of light let in by a half-open door. It creaks as it is dragged shut towards the camera. Black. Creds.
“All language is but a poor translations.”
— Franz Kafka (tran.)
Based on the novel by
Franz Kafka
The voice and body of GREGOR: Noah Read
The voice of GRETE: Name Here
The body and feet of GRETE: Hannah Blackwell
The voice of MR SAMSA: Name Here
The voice of MRS SAMSA: Name Here
The voice of the CHIEF CLERK: Name Here
Music
Song Titles
Artist
Including translations by
David Wylle
Stanley Corngold
Ernst Kaiser
Eithne Wilkins
Edwin and Willa Muir
Joachim Neugroschel
With thanks to
The Project Gutenberg
and
Helen Ings Digby