All language subtitles for Kafka (2024) - S1E2

Subtitle: Norddeutscher
Rundfunk 2024

Actually you have to
start somewhere else.

Is he still coming?

He's always late.

One hour. I'm worried.

Who are you expecting?

Max's meschuggen friend.

*Quiet laughter* We
don't expect him.

All we know is that
he will appear,

because he always shows up.

Yes. At home he doesn't
like it that much.

The young lady is Felice Bauer
from Berlin, former typist,

but she rose.

She is with her
relatives in Prague,

the family by the
writer Max Brod.

She's not a woman
of the world, but...

Excuse me, that
didn't sound...

I mean, she is a
down-to-earth, a practical one

and intelligent
woman, independent.

This is still rare.

Maybe salvation
for an erring soul.

Did something happen to him?
You are not responsible for him.

Actually, I am. And now,
where he publishes a book...

He doesn't have
your talent, Max.

Friendship or not.

A strange person.

You have to imagine, Felice:

I'm fast asleep. He comes in. I
wake up. And what does he say?

"Consider me a dream."
And goes out again.

Who knows, Max?

Someone who thinks of something like
that will maybe as famous as you.

*creaking*

I apologize!

I kept everyone waiting
everyone disappointed.

Nonsense! Yes, I always
disappoint everyone.

Franz Kafka. Felice Bauer.

Cousin of my Berlin brother-in-law.
Berlin brother-in-law?

Anyone who is self-respecting today
has a brother-in-law from Berlin.

*Cluck*

Would anyone like something to
eat? I've given up the habit. What?

Nothing is worse than people, who are
constantly eating. Like zoo animals.

That is the book?
This will be the book.

Hopefully never. Yes,
Franz, There is no way back.

There has never
been a turning back.

We want the prose pieces
choose for the book.

The contract I
closed it for him.

You convinced us.
- You did.

So, you convinced him.
- That's enough.

I am the literary expertise.

The expertise is
Wolff, I the merchant.

A publisher needs both.

Yes, a money monkey

and a man of talent
and art appreciation.

Well said, dear Rowohlt.

Send us something, dear Kafka.

We need to fill our
new row. You are lucky.

We don't even read it beforehand.
- He does not.

I admit it others act artfully.
- Who?

We'll send his reflection
soon. Consideration?

I know, we need
a better title.

I'm more grateful for the
return of my manuscripts

than for their publication.

What is the name of your book?

Consideration.

We're looking for one Looking
for another title, but...

A... good title. Not
that, but appropriate.

That's the worst name for
an unfortunately bad book.

Oh, come on, Franz! Don't
play the humble guy.

I do not play. Unfortunately
it's really bad.

This has to come out. That's exactly what has
to be definitely get in. This has to come out!

The book is too thin anyway.
Everything comes in. Not that one!

We're done choosing.
Everything here goes in.

That's a catastrophe.

I can't imagine the feeling
imagine being a book author.

It's terrible! A book with
Such a beautiful name too.

Do you speak Hebrew?
I am a Zionist.

Me too, I think.

Of course he is a
Zionist. He is sensible.

The most beautiful
language speak firmly.

Zionism is my big one
Became a task, my mission.

I'll travel there at some point.

Away from the darkness, the
cobblestones, the people,

who consider it an impertinence,
that there are Jews.

Away from the pigeons.

The pigeons?

Don't you want a country
without pigeon dirt, Max?

Let's climb it together
Spring hills, madam?

I mean Tel Aviv.

That means translated
"The Hill of Spring".

I don't speak Hebrew,
but you know what I mean.

Do you speak it now or not?
I hardly speak any German.

I hang between
languages, which I can't.

Like a fly between the
road and some shoe. Yes.

Then let's do it.

If you're serious,
then we go to Tel Aviv.

I dont have anything yet
so serious. Me neither.

Dear Miss:

In the possible event that
you don't remember me anymore,

I introduce myself again.

My name is Franz Kafka
and am the human being

who you for the first time in the evening
welcomed by Director Brod in Prague.

Sister. Hello.

You're late, Feluschka. How
was the trip? Very very nice.

Here is a letter for you.

How did I get to your address?

At first I got any called
a stock corporation.

Then I got your address without
a number, then add the number.

Now I was satisfied and
certainly didn't write.

I was afraid the
address would be wrong.

Nothing is sadder

as a letter to send
to an unsafe address.

That's a sigh.

Apart from that from
these address worries,

what did my letter of lament have
to suffer, before it was written?

What kind of moods hold me?

A rain of nervousness goes
down continuously down on me.

What I want now I don't
want to next time.

I have to pile up insecurity,

before they get a little
security or become a letter.

Tell me something about Prague.

Hmm... Charles Bridge is big.

The stones are... old.

*Giggle* And over the
city is this huge castle.

And the alleys in
the old town...

Unfortunately I can't do
anything put together beforehand,

later in a river write down.

My memory is bad.

But even the best
memory I couldn't write

even a small one, before just
a memorized section will help.

And the Brods? How are they?

Max plays the piano very well.

I saw a book by
him. Did you buy it?

That would be even
nicer! He should send it.

Then would you read it?

I don't like reading that much.

If he sends it,
you won't read it,

but if he doesn't send it,
Don't you even do that?

Leave me alone with your jokes!

Once I remember I
even got up from bed

about what I have for you
thought about writing it down.

But I got up again
back to bed because I,

this is a second of my sufferings,
who blamed my restlessness for folly.

And claimed I could do it,
what exactly I have in mind

also write it down
in the morning.

Towards midnight such
claims always come through.

I have to admit one
thing, as bad as it sounds

and so bad it
matches the previous:

I am an unpunctual
letter writer.

Morning.

But I never expect that
letters come on time.

Coffee! Thanks mother, no time.

Even if I have a
letter eagerly await

I'm never disappointed,
if he doesn't come.

And finally he comes,
I like to scare.

Now includes my life
thinking of you.

Not a quarter of an hour goes
by where I don't think about you

and many quarter hours, in
which I do nothing else.

They are very nice letters.

Letter to the Kronecker company,
paragraph, today's date, paragraph.

Ladies and
Gentlemen I ask you,

contact us regarding
the delivery of 200...

And it went on like this, day after
day, Week after week, month after month.

When she finished a
letter, came the next one.

It didn't stop anymore.

George.

George.

George.

I have news, father.

I have ... myself
engaged to a young lady.

A girl from a wealthy family.

He had with his bride
about the father's future

not spoken yet.

They had assumed

the father would be alone
stay in the old apartment.

But now he decided

the father in his to take with
you to your future household.

Am I well covered now?

Just be quiet, father. You're
well covered. * Scream *

"No," cried the father, that
the answer met the question.

He threw back the
blanket, that it unfolded

and stood in bed.

You wanted to cover me up
I know that, my little one,

but I'm not covered yet.

And is that also the last strength,
enough for you, too much for you?

But the father has to
fortunately no one teaches

to see through the son.

As you believed now, you
would have defeated him!

so defeated, that
you with your ass

you can bet on him
and he doesn't move.

There he is, my lord son,
decided to get married,

because she lifted her skirts.

Because she lifted her skirts
like that, the disgusting goose.

Because she wears skirts
like this... and like that...

... and raised it like
that, did you approach her?

And so that you can access it without any
disturbance you can satisfy yourself, you have

put your father to
bed, so he can't move!

But I'll sweep it for
you away from the side!

You don't know how!

You ambushed me.

I condemn you to
death by drowning.

George felt chased away.

The blow that the father gave
fell, stayed in his ears.

*rolling thunder*

Dear Parents, I have
always loved you.

At this moment went
over the bridge

an almost endless traffic.

In one night. That's the only
way you can write. Only this way!

What can I say? It
was because of her.

Felice? She started everything.

Maybe writing and
Opposites don't marry.

In one night I wrote that.

If I hadn't met her...
You wouldn't have.

Why not?

Weren't you listening, Brod?
That's what the story is about.

And then: letters for weeks,
for months, half a year.

Letters! A love in letters,
an engagement in letters.

When a man and a woman meet each
other write so many letters in 1913,

aren't they pen pals,
then they are engaged.

A human, to whom
you are engaged,

even though you have
him only seen it once?

You already know?

I would like nuts, Goat
cheese and a glass of water.

We have cheese, but not goat.
Water works. Then no cheese.

And you, miss? I
only drink tea.

You know, that we
offer food here?

I do not like to eat.

So, a plate of nuts for him
Glutton and nothing for you.

Which friends!

By the way, thank you for your
book. Oh! I couldn't read it yet.

What are you reading right now?
Schnitzler. I like him very much.

Both "The Way to the Outdoors"
as well as “Professor Bernhardi”.

A swaying mass most
disgusting writing.

What? You can't do it
push down deep enough.

Schnitzler?

Tea for the lady.

And nuts for the Lord.

What a wonderful feast!

*smack*

*Sipping*

*smack*

Is something not right with
the nut? How come? Oh right!

It is a chewing technique
by Horace Fletcher.

Don't swallow anything, before
you have bitten 40 times.

This is how the main part finds
digestion takes place in the mouth.

*smack*

Thomas Mann wrote to me.

What? Please let me in
peace or I call the police?

On the contrary. He's closed
congratulated on my work. Mmm!

As far as I know, there
is no living writer,

whom Thomas Mann did
not congratulate.

He probably also congratulated
the dead and unborn children.

One wonders, how he
comes to write a novel.

* Laugh *

Franz.

Why are you looking like that?

I can't marry her. You
can't or don't want to?

One due to his living conditions
and his nature anti-social person,

sickly too, a non-Zionist Jew.

Why will you? not
finally a Zionist?

I am disgusted by
Zionism and I admire him.

A human, eliminated by
his non-Zionist Judaism,

constantly at his best shocked
in the most painful way.

Such a person should get
married? Is that the problem?

Or do you have saw
her again and...

How should I say that?
- You didn't want to go to bed with her?

You're making this too easy for
yourself. Sometimes it's that simple.

Come on Max, let's
go. Very much.

Good evening, sir.
- Oh, good evening, lady.

I am engaged.

Oh!

That's nice, Mr. Franz.

I congratulate you.
Who is the lucky woman?

Dear Doctor. Kafka.

Even though we don't know each
other, I am writing to you,

because my friend Felice gave
me is close to the heart.

She asked me to meet you.

I will at the beginning of November
have to do business in Prague.

Then we could each
other so get to know.

So I could fulfill
Felice's request

and an extraordinary
person get to know.

You can't stall them anymore.

I'm aware, dear Miss Bloch.

You do love her. I
love you very much.

Then what are you waiting for?

I know Felice in
form of four girls.

The first was in Prague, the second
wrote me letters. Everything Felice.

The third in Berlin didn't
have much affection for me.

Nothing is more natural.
I understand that.

Who is the fourth?

Maybe she'll lead
a good angel,

she leads narrowly or
not so close to me.

The angel leads
her to you, Doctor.

They belong together.

You are a good friend to
Felice, Miss Grete. You too.

The fourth Felice
socializes with strangers.

I hear about her in
letters or their stories.

The authorized representative
in your company.

And when we bring
the four together?

But if we get married:

I would lose my loneliness,

but Felice her entire life.

She couldn't work anymore.
What would she gain?

A wonderful person.

A weak one unsociable, silent,

sad, almost hopeless.

Then she also has two people
Get price of one. * Laugh *

That's how they talk and talk.

the next day meet again.

Then Grete goes back to Berlin

and write now They
also received letters.

He talks openly with Grete.
She talks to him openly.

They talk about a lot of
things especially about Felice.

And it seems to help
because finally...

Felice Bauer.

The detective answered.
- We got smart.

What?

Do you think you
can get engaged?

and we watch, How do
you get ripped off?

Did you send a
detective? We got smart.

And Mr. Papa has a moment lived
somewhere else for a long time, it seems.

The brother... is a spendthrift.

Overall everything seems fine.

Your sister Erna has
an illegitimate child,

that her mom doesn't know about.

Felice pays her living
expenses and that of the baby.

They don't have to know that.
Especially not the one with the child.

Greta told Franz about the baby

but that again Felice is
not allowed to find out.

The important thing
is, you can marry her.

Nothing stands in
the way anymore.

Yes. Don't take it hard.

You probably have a
detective too set for us.

The Kafkas and the Bauers:

Two families, countless
secrets and hidden disasters

about to to unite
into a family.

I recently the
judgment read by Franz,

written after he met Felice.

I received a copy
in the library.

The man wants to get married.
His father condemns him.

My Franz doesn't write
anything like that.

It's time, that the
two get married.

It's already taking too long.

If you ask me: This
is all nonsense!

How come?

Look how thin Franz is. Why
does anyone want to marry him?

At least he has the doctor.

Go to Franz. He's not
doing well at all.

Do you think? Society
is not for him.

Connect with a person it's
something so internal.

Now he has to be the
ambassador be for yourself.

He can't do that at all.
You know him well by now.

We talked a lot,
about you and him.

That's kind of you.

Without you we
wouldn't be here now.

I talk and ask him like this:
"What kind of Nebochant are you?"

Do you know what he answers?

What's wrong with you,
Franz? Hm? What's up?

What are you looking at?

Cheers to Franzl and
to his beautiful bride.

Kiss the bride!

Yes! Kiss!

Kissing!
Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!
Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!
Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

Kissing! Kiss!
Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!
Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

*applause*

* Ring *

Six weeks are over.

Summer is over Berlin and
Dr. Franz Kafka is back.

There is a lot to
discuss before marriage.

Felice has to move to Prague.

And none of that would have happened
without the use of Grete Bloch,

with which he now is
constantly connected.

Back then, letters came up to three times
on the day. Yes, it happened that quickly.

People could constantly care for each
other write, and if you were Kafka

and needed help, then
this was done incessantly.

You already know how that went.
And Grete now knew it too.

There is double
restlessness in me,

because I have two
questions cannot answer.

How will Felice be? What
if I don’t log in anymore?

How will I be?

Now you see in me
not Felice's groom,

but Felice's danger.

Human organizations can you
don't pour it around like water.

Make up your mind!

At some point you have
to stop with the quarrel.

If I were healthier
and stronger,

all difficulties
would be overcome.

They are stubborn.

Persistence can too be
a result of desperation.

*phone ringing*

Are you okay, Miss Bloch?

As always in Berlin he
lives in his favorite hotel,

not a beautiful one, but
the one what he got used to:

The Hotel Askanischer Hof.

We are in 1914.

Really no one has any idea that this
will happen soon the big war will come.

Dr. Kafka. I have reserved.

They are already expected.

Please?

Backroom.

You're confusing me.

Do not think so.

*creaking*

*door slams*

Sit down, Franz.

Felice, what is it?
Sit down.

You may now shout:

"No, it wasn't like that! It's
like something out of a..."

But think about it.

If you say, it's like
something out of a Kafka novel,

I can only answer:
Think for a moment, why?

Grete? Doctor, you have
told me things about Felice,

to which I could no
longer be silent.

They promised
marriage to Felice.

At the same time you have me
said and written several times...

The letters are here.

You told me that you are don't
feel capable of this marriage.

Both at the same time,
sometimes on the same day.

You can't deny it, Franz.
I have read the letters.

Duplicitous. There are no
other expression for it.

You weren't honest.

What do you have to say?

If you don't say anything now,
it can cannot be made good.

Coffee anyone? - Thanks. No.

I have to be clear, Franz.

Your reservations, the constant
Postponing the wedding.

My family is worried
right, Erna? Worried?

Yes. Sure, we're worried.
Very worried. Very.

Finally be honest.

Explain yourself. You have to
now explain everything, doctor.

* Scribbles getting louder *

Finally speak, Franz!

*Two loud thuds*

Do you have us?
really nothing to say?

*clink*

Someone had to
Josef K. slandered.

Because without him
had done something bad,

he was arrested one morning.

You can't leave.

Why?

We are not appointed
to to tell you that.

What were they talking about?
Which authority did they belong to?

Karl lived in a
constitutional state.

There was peace everywhere.
All laws passed.

Who dared to see him in
his apartment to ambush?

So you're... not going to talk?

If you continue to remain silent,
I can't do anything for you either.

You sit above me as a judge.

This is certainly disgusting
for you. For me too.

But actually I'm sitting in
your place and stay there.

I can't marry a man
who doesn't want that.

You're right.

A man who speaks of love but
wants to write his little books.

And only then becomes talkative,

when it comes to vegetarian cuisine, Nuts
or gymnastics exercises are possible.

These are my
identification papers.

You're getting into
trouble as a small child.

Do you want your big, cursed one
bring the process to a quick end,

by contacting us,
the guards, discuss?

So that was it? I have
everything tried, Doctor Kafka.

A good ending, isn't it?

Yes, a story would be after
the trial in the Askanian Court

been over.

But because it's not a story,
it continues afterwards.

Life is messier
than all stories.

And now there is war.
Europe is broken.

people die in unimaginable
numbers every day.

This is Bodenbach, a hotel
in the border station

between Austria,
Hungary and Germany.

* Beat *

*Door squeaks*

Franz.

It's good to see you again.

Everything was very,
very difficult.

So what happens?

It's been so many months.

I wrote a lot. Do you
want to hear something?

Yes.

*clears throat* This entrance
was meant just for you.

Stocks between the two
Explanations: a contradiction?

You would be right and the doorkeeper
would have deceived the man.

That's all?

He reads out.

Listen to him.

But I finally want him
no longer have to listen!

To the doorkeeper a man
comes from the country

and asks to enter the law.

But the doorkeeper says he
can not allow him entry.

The man then asks if he later
will be allowed to enter.

It is possible, says the
doorkeeper, but not now.

Because the gate to the law is open
and the doorkeeper steps aside,

the man bends down to get through
to see the gate into the interior.

How good we are here together.

When the doorkeeper notices
this, he laughs and says:

"If you're so tempted, go
but pure, despite my ban.

But remember, I am powerful and
I'm just the lowest gatekeeper.

From room to room but
there are doorkeepers,

one more powerful
than the other.

Just the sight of the third one
Even I can't take it anymore.

Such difficulties..."

And so he reads and reads
and nothing happens.

He reads about a man,
that all his life

waiting in front of a
gate, that was always open.

"...gained entry because this one
Entrance was meant just for you.

I'll go and close it now.

I'll go and close it now."

My train is leaving soon.

I know.

* Cough *

Are you well, madam?

Just miss. Yes.
Excuse me. Thanks.

It was a long train
ride from Berlin.

How long were you
traveling? Almost two days.

Oh! Do you remember,

than you can in seven hours
drove from Berlin to Munich?

In another life.
Yes. Before the war.

Now every military train
has to be allowed in.

It was bitterly cold
in the train stations.

All the way for a
lecture? He is ...

I mean, so... was...

...is...my fiancé.

The gentleman
reading today? Mmm.

Tell me, why a writer

at a time like this...

Do you know who that is?

*applause*

Good evening.
I'll read a piece,

that I recently
finished writing.

It's probably good
not much, but...

In the penal colony.

On this edition the Convicts
laid on their stomachs, naked.

Here are for arms and
legs Straps for fastening.

This is where the face is.

The felt stump just
enters the mouth.

He prevents the condemned man
from Biting the tongue. Look.

*hiss*

*clack*

*hiss*

*clack*

*hiss*

*clack*

*hiss*

Do you understand the process?

The corner begins to write.

Is it with the first system
the writing finished,

rolls the edition
the body to the side.

*squeal*

*Muffled sounds*

*Fearful sounds*

*Crying screams*

*hiss*

*Typewriter typing*

*Muffled screams*

*Typewriter typing*

*Muffled screams*

Help him! Please help him!

*Pained whimper*

* chatter *

*Gasps and whimpers*

*Click*

*Single applause*

*Restrained applause*

You used to have such beautiful
things written. Considerations.

Felice, you came especially.

So far.

I wanted to listen to you.
That was outrageous. Thanks.

I am Rainer Maria Rilke.

I know.

This is my fiancée,
Miss Bauer.

It is a great honor to me.

Your novella about the stoker
is one of the...strongest

and... most wondrous works, that I
have ever had the pleasure of reading.

What a merciless consequence

and what a peculiarity of
the darkened clear view.

The same consequence
I see in this story,

although blackened
in blood, but ...

It would be more appropriate
in times of murder.

Have you read The Heater?
I've read everything from you.

Your transformation has
me rocked into nightmares.

How can you write like that?

and otherwise simple go
about your day's work?

What do you do, ...

... Franz Kafka?

I am working in
accident insurance.

Mutilation?

Blood?

And bloody steel?
In large amounts.

Now I can't say that
I am amazed at this.

And you, madam?

I... am an authorized signatory
at a company in Berlin.

They have a real
job of your own?

I have so much of my own career
like you don't have your own job.

I actually don't have one.

Not everyone gets away with it.

And ...

What does this company
do? there in Berlin?

Where you are an
authorized representative?

She makes machines. Machinery.

The contemporary
master of the world.

That's what I would have said too,
if I could have said it like that.

I tell you:

The ore will become homesick

and from the machines
return to the mountains.

You can wish for something like
that, but it won't happen. No.

It won't happen.

God be with you,
... Franz Kafka.

God bless you.

I am afraid, You will need it.

And with you, madam.

Did you hear what he
said? He read everything.

Everything.

* Strangle *

Then, in the last year of the
war... This is called a hemorrhage.

* Cough *

* rattling *

They say I have tuberculosis,
but I keep this disease

rather for a general
bankruptcy in me.

They can't both to stay alive.

Both? The one who would
have to live with you

and the one who will do
that, what I have to do.

The task is monstrous.

One of us has to die and
not the one who works.

The task. You mean
writing? * Cough *

* rumble of thunder
and call of crows *

You make it very
easy for yourself.

You took my youth, as
if she belonged to you,

wrote me letters, full of
them Beauty, wit and passion.

You tied me to you, as if
you were entitled to it.

And then you have it all the time
talked about you having to write.

You overestimate yourself.

That's why you make
yourself so small.

You are my human
judgment, Felice.

Whatever that should
be called again.

So now I say,
what I always said

but today I say it
for the last time:

My train is about to leave.

No kiss goodbye!

When we met for the
first time have seen,

did you ask me, whether
we go to Palestine.

Why have we never done
this? If we had done that...

Do you believe, would
everything have been different?

They never saw each other again.

*Slow typing*

*Door opens*

My God, Franz. You are
completely pale. She left.

I have to do it alone. What should because
that's what it means? We all are ...

None of you are married,
even if you think you are.

What do you mean by that?

*sob*

Isn't it terrible that something
like this has to happen?

Copyright subtitles: NDR 2024