‘The Trial’ tells the tale of Josef K, a man unexpectedly arrested by an unknown authority for an unspecified crime, and the story follows his increasingly desperate attempts to negotiate a labyrinthine legal process and an untouchable, unreachable court, while never finding out what it is that he has been accused of.
Kafka started to write ‘The Trial’ in August 1914 and continued on through 1915, despite the outbreak of war. Like his other two novels he never completed it, and it was only after his death in 1924 that it was published. His haphazard method of writing saw the novel take shape across a number of different notebooks, all being used simultaneously. When Kafka’s friend Max Brod eventually persuaded him to surrender the ‘manuscript’ (Kafka had a habit of destroying his own work, which Brod was trying to prevent) he was given 161 loose pages, gathered into chapters, but no clue as to what order the chapters should be in. It does have a beginning, and though abrupt, it certainly has an end, but though Brod, and later, others, have edited the work, it remains unclear what Kafka’s true plan was.
This uncertainty has been a fertile ground for dramatic interpretation over the years. In 1962, Orson Welles filmed a version with Anthony Perkins as Josef K, while Steven Berkoff presented his own unique and experimental take in 1970, with elements of physical theatre and mime, verging on the surreal. Tom Basden, who would also go on to adapt Dario Fo’s ‘Accidental Death of an Anarchist’, presented a new version in 2010 set in modern day London called ‘Joseph K’, where the main protagonist was a City banker.
Lucy-Ann Martin’s adaptation here certainly draws inspiration from Berkoff, notably in its use of physical theatre, and the employment of an ensemble cast. As each actor moves on to another role within the story, the intention is to underline the facelessness of the authority that Josef K finds himself hopelessly and inexplicably at odds with. His relationship with those he encounters on the twisting path of the system he is forced to take is polarised. Men only serve to confuse, presenting a series of barriers or problems that prevent him from obtaining justice. Women are a weakness for him, though he seems to be endowed with some form of unexplained allure which he uses not simply to satiate his desires but advance his cause. If this makes our Josef something less than the total innocent, then perhaps this is because nobody is completely without guilt, now are they? And then the driver becomes not simply what am I charged with, but what do they know, and paranoia takes its insidious hold.
