The Grotesque of a Kafkaesque World and Its Counterparts in Recent Korean Scenes

Hwawon Lee*

Abstract

Franz Kafka, who passed away a century ago, has garnered a significant readership and inspired numerous interpretations primarily posthumously. Throughout his lifetime, he published only a limited number of novels, most of which went unrecognized during his era. Notably, Kafka left a testament requesting the destruction of all his writings upon his death. However, his close friend, Max Brod, chose not to comply with this request; instead, he meticulously preserved Kafka’s unpublished works and facilitated their publication. This act raises a complex ethical question: can Brod’s decision be regarded as a profound betrayal or an expression of genuine respect? The inherent irony of the situation complicates any singular interpretation of the so-called truth. This article explores the grotesque aspects of Kafka’s world as a lens through which to examine the concept of truth, drawing parallels with contemporary Korean theatre, including works such as Waiting for Godot by the Park Company, Gip, Gip: House Sonata by the Baeksukwangbu Theatre Company, and Dinner of a Family by the Theatre Company Beyond.

Keywords: Kafka, grotesque, Korean theatre, The Trial, Metamorphosis, Park Company, Baeksukwangbu Theatre Company, Waiting for Godot, Gip, Gip: House Sonata, Dinner of a Family, Theatre Company Beyond, The Castle

Franz Kafka and the Grotesque

In the preface to his Romantic play Cromwell, Victor Hugo argued that the ideal beauty depicted in Neoclassical tragedy could not fully capture the “truth” of the real world and that the idealistic beauty and the comic-ugly must be blended together. Through this blending, he sought to pursue a “grotesque” or mixed aesthetic.

The aesthetics of the grotesque, which emerged during the nineteenth-century Romantic era and have been variably adapted across the years, seem to reflect the chaos of an absence of boundaries that Kafka, as a Jew, encountered in Europe from the end of the nineteenth century to the early twentieth century. The truth that he experienced with his entire being bursts forth through the grotesque elements in his works.

Born in Prague in 1883 and departed in Kierling, Austria, in 1924, Franz Kafka had a profound influence on later generations with his realistic prose style juxtaposed against fantastical and erratic settings and plot developments. Novels like The Metamorphosis, The Castle, The Trial and A Country Doctor have become sources of new insights and inspiration for readers worldwide. Kafka was so self-deprecating that he requested all his unpublished works be burned upon his death. Even his masterpiece, The Castle, remains unfinished at 25 chapters, and The Trial, a 10-chapter novel, includes incomplete short sections that the author himself acknowledged were not the final work. Had Kafka’s wishes been fulfilled, these works would have vanished without a trace. Given life but denied by the author himself, they seem inherently to suggest that there is no definitive substance or belief anywhere in this world. Kafka’s writings manifest a unique kind of grotesque through ambiguous blending of and penetration into the contradictions and truths of life; this quality is epitomized as a transgressive or paradoxical mixture.

In The Trial, an ordinary bank clerk, Josef K., is suddenly notified by two men of his arrest, but without being informed of what the charges are or who has accused him. The narrative depicts Josef K.’s desperate journey to uncover the crime of which he is accused and defend himself in the trial. Although perplexed by the legal proceedings enveloping him, Josef K. dutifully appears at the designated courthouse, only to find the proceedings delayed by absurd characters and settings. Just as he is about to give up, a red-cheeked young boy leads him to the judge. In front of a crowd, Josef K. makes an impassioned plea against the injustice of the trial, but his speech is interrupted by the cries of a youth committing adultery in the courtroom. As in a comedy of errors whereby one mistake is repeatedly amplified, Josef K. is swept into a whirlwind of confusion as he is summoned and faced with the prospect of arrest and execution, without ever learning the true nature of his alleged crime.

The initially irrational situation is at times perceived by Josef K. as a farcical role-play which he tries in earnest to complete, only to fail repeatedly due to the contradictory circumstances and characters. This blurring of the tragic and the comic exemplifies Kafka’s particular variety of grotesque. Ultimately, the novel never reveals why the protagonist is put on trial or why he must face arrest and execution, yet this opacity surrounding the elusive truth may itself be the truth about our own lives, filled with contradiction and uncertainty.

In other novels as well, a Kafkaesque quality of the grotesque is inevitably prominent. In the case of The Castle, for example, the protagonist negotiates an uncertain situation as he persistently attempts to uncover the truth while continuing to experience tragic failures. After receiving a summons from a castle, a land surveyor finds himself in a perplexing situation, as if he were lost in an endless maze. The space of the castle to which he has been summoned, the identity of the summoning official and the documents that could help him all seem to slip away with each step forward that he takes. The endless detailed descriptions of his blocked attempts continue like a farce, evoking the protagonist’s frustration as well as the readers’ ridicule. While the protagonist’s efforts to take his duties seriously are tragically frustrated, the people surrounding him only exacerbate the confusion with absurd farces and unrelated actions. This grotesque quality is the result of mixing discordant elements, and thus conveys the truth of life’s contradictions.

In the case of Kafka’s most widely known work, The Metamorphosis, the presence of a contradictory grotesque is also sharply defined. One morning, the traveling salesman Gregor Samsa suddenly transforms into an insect, and even in such a situation he tries to maintain his composure and endure, but is ultimately abandoned like a piece of luggage. He earnestly tries to explain himself to the chief clerk who visits his house, but his effort at human speech is heard as an incomprehensible mumble by the listeners. Amid the use of a farcical metamorphosis and discord, the protagonist’s persistent effort to live is tragically frustrated. The sudden burdens of life and all attempts to alleviate them are in vain, leaving a long-lasting impression of life’s contradictions through the prism of the grotesque.

The Grotesque in Contemporary Korean Theatre

The aesthetics of the grotesque, which emerged during the nineteenth-century Romantic era and have been variably adapted across the years, seem to reflect the chaos of an absence of boundaries that Kafka, as a Jew, encountered in Europe from the end of the nineteenth century to the early twentieth century. The truth that he experienced with his entire being bursts forth through the grotesque elements in his works. The grotesque revealed in Kafka’s oeuvre is not a phenomenon that occurs temporarily for a specific individual: indeed, a hundred years after his death, we find it more challenging than ever to realize fully and relish our true identities amidst the pressures of capital and institutions in the Information Age. As such, the grotesque allows for insight into the contradictory truths of life amidst a mixture of tragic and comic artistic expressions. This article aims to introduce performances that were particularly impressive for their portrayal of the grotesque on recent Korean theatrical stages.

Shin Goo in Waiting for Godot. Photo: Park Company

Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, first introduced to Korea by the Sanwoollim Theatre Company in the 1960s, opened in December 2023 at the Daloreum National Theatre of Korea. Produced by the Park Company and directed by Oh Kyung-taek, the production featured veteran actors such as Shin Goo, Park Geun-hyung and Park Jung-ja, with performances scheduled across the country up to June 2024. More than 70 years have passed since Beckett first published his work, and nearly 60 years since his work was introduced in Korea, yet Waiting for Godot still captivates audiences here. As an instance of the “Theatre of the Absurd,” named by Martin Esslin, Waiting for Godot exemplifies the characteristics of the genre quite well.

On the stage of this quintessential Theatre of the Absurd, we can easily infer the grotesque found in Kafka’s world. The protagonists wait every day for Godot in an unknown place for unknown reasons. A boy appears saying Godot will come tomorrow but Godot seems unlikely to come tomorrow either, and their waiting is presumed to continue as a predestined failure. Their situation of being unable to achieve their desired goal is tragic, yet they endure the time with their best efforts. Their efforts are earnest yet ridiculously futile: pointless hat swapping, repeating the act of taking off and putting on shoes, and watching the incomprehensible farce performed by Lucky, a slave of a passerby Pozzo. The most prominent grotesque element in the work could very well be present in the following exchange at the end of the play: “Vladimir: Shall we go? Estragon: Yes, let’s go. (However, they do not move).”

Shin Goo, Park Geun-hyung in Waiting for Godot. Photo: Park Company

The comedic effect resulting from the discrepancy between language and action and their tragic situation of wanting but being unable to leave overlap intriguingly, enveloping the audience with the lingering essence of the grotesque. Shin Goo, in his late 80s, and Park Geun-hyung, in his late 70s, take on the roles of Estragon and Vladimir, respectively, meeting the audience daily for six months as the original cast. What exactly is the Godot that keeps them from leaving the stage? The audience sees in the two protagonists their own reflections, unable to escape the daily grind of life and forced to live repetitively. Through the power of its authenticity, Beckett’s masterpiece will captivate audiences worldwide for a long time.

Shin Goo, Park Geun-hyung in Waiting for Godot. Photo: Park Company

Another instance of the grotesque is recalled from the stage of another Korean play performed last season. JibJib: House Sonata, written by Han Hyun-ju and directed by Lee Sung-ryul, was performed by Baeksukwangbu Theatre Company at the Seondol Theatre in Seoul from December 21 to 31, 2023. With the skyrocketing prices of apartments, housing is a significant issue for ordinary Koreans today. The story unfolds around two tenants who have moved into a rental apartment in Seoul, depicted through realistic scenes, with characters who are waiting while exposed to the spectators and videos offering multiple perspectives on the characters in action. The narrative alternates between Park Jung-gum, played by Hwang Jeong-min, the initial tenant, and Yeon Mi-jin, played by Min Hae-shim, another tenant who moves in after Park’s death. Park Jung-gum lives as if concealing the presence of her son, who actually lives with her but seems absent due to his disability from an accident. Park doesn’t want to give up the government benefit she receives for her son, despite his inability to support her. As a building cleaner, she saves her earnings frugally yet keeps her money in cash, entrusted to an acquaintance from church or hidden under the kitchen sink, since having funds in a bank account in her name would disqualify her from receiving a basic living subsidy. Yeon Mi-jin, the new tenant who moves into the apartment after Park Jung-gum’s sudden death, had hurriedly registered her marriage before the wedding ceremony in order to meet the favorable conditions for newlyweds. Eventually she manages to move in, bypassing other eligible candidates, thanks to a friend whose uncle is the apartment manager.

Min Haesim, Shim Jae-wan (in front) in JipJip: House Sonata. Photo: Baeksukwangbu Theatre Company

While fixing the sink before moving in, Yeon Mi-jin is astonished to discover a bundle of money previously left hidden by Park Jung-gum. She inquires about the money, assuming it belongs to Park, but as her greed for it grows, her morally upright husband reprimands her. Meanwhile, Park’s acquaintance who had been managing Park Jung-gum’s money visits the apartment one day because Park had mentioned the location “under the sink” before passing away. She stealthily reaches under the sink to check if any money is left. Thus, the dead person’s money becomes an object of desire for the living.

At this point, an unexpected anecdote is introduced. When Park Jung-gum first moved into the apartment, she attended a Christmas service where she heard that the meaning of Bethlehem, the birthplace of Jesus, is house of bread. Park is particularly moved by the following biblical passage from the Gospel of John: “I am the bread of life. (…) the bread that comes down from heaven and gives life. Whoever eats this bread will live forever.” As she is quoted as saying, “Whenever I read this part, I keep thinking this house, my house, is like a house of bread, a bakery of life. I hope my earnest faith could fill this house forever.” At this point, the entire cast of the performance suddenly appears on stage, filling the space as they begin to sing together:

“Oh, Bethlehem, in the small valley, are you asleep?

Only the stars shine brightly and all is silent.

How do you not know that this amazing light
now illuminates the entire sky on this dark night?”

Shim Jae-wan, Lee San-ho, Lee Hyung-woo in JipJip: House Sonata. Photo: Baeksukwangbu Theatre Company

The contradictory combination of realistic scenes with a sudden intrusion of the unrealistic is striking. Moreover, her words that reveal her belief in her home as the “house of bread,” akin to Jesus’ birthplace, elicit laughter, as she desperately lives a false life while hiding the existence of her son and her income. Thus, the scene stands out in particular, enriched by the power of the grotesque which results from a blend of contradictory elements.

The grotesque quality of the play is further enhanced by the appearance of a quirky neighbor who has been waiting for Godot for 20 years, in addition to the two tenants. Pointing to a poster of Beckett’s Waiting for Godot that came on tour in his neighborhood 20 years ago, he claims that he also waits for Godot every day. At the end of the performance, this man, along with Park Jung-gum’s son and Yeon Mi-jin’s husband, have an unrealistic conversation in front of the apartment entrance, facing the audience. Moreover, Park Jung-gum and Yeon Mi-jin appear surrealistically in the apartment living room, side by side, staring intently at the audience. These scenes seem to be hints from the characters that the play is not about them, the actors, but rather about the spectators in the audience. The grotesque quality of the work, which merges reality and unreality, comic and tragic, truth and falsehood, and justice and injustice, affects the audience profoundly.

Hwang Jeong-min, Min Hae-shim in JipJip: House Sonata. Photo: Baeksukwangbu Theatre Company

In A Certain Family’s Dinner, written and directed by Andy Ki-hoon Yoon, several grotesque scenes are also prominent. Performed at the BOK Art Center in Sejong City on September 8–9, 2023, with support from the Sejong Cultural Foundation, and at Seoul Space T on October 27–28, 2023, by the Theatre Company Beyond, the play focuses on three siblings and their grandmother who live in a vinyl house on the outskirts of the city. The siblings’ mother left home after giving birth to the youngest, and their father is in prison. The eldest sister is a high school student, played by Jeon Bo-hyeon, who struggles to maintain her family, working late into the night. The grandmother, however, suffering from dementia, dotes only on the frequently ill younger brother. The middle school-aged younger sister, played by Kim Hyo-joo, desperately wants to escape the confines of this family. The eldest sister, fearing a cut in government support for low-income families, carefully hides her small income in a flowerpot, occasionally checking it for a bit of comfort. This money is precious and intended for securing a new home for the family, as the vinyl house is soon to be demolished due to urban development. However, she finds out that the state support she has been receiving will be discontinued, as the father’s income as the breadwinner has been discovered.

Min Kyung-joon, Jeon Bo-hyeon, Kim Hyo-joo in A Certain Family’s Dinner. Photo: Theatre Company Beyond

The father, played by Min Kyung-joon, arrives one day with expensive fruits and loudly declares that he will support the family. The elder sister wants to believe his words at face value; the younger sister, however, finds it unlikely that their father, who frequently resorted to violence against her mother, her sisters and herself, is now making such claims. The next morning, as the younger sister asks the father for pocket money before leaving the house, the elder sister stops her. Suddenly, the father leaves the house, and the elder sister habitually checks the money inside the flowerpot. But . . . the pot is empty! The elder sister searches everywhere for the money until the father returns home extremely drunk, confronting her about the money. He claims to have lost it all by gambling, claiming that the money was insufficient for the bet he had placed. Losing her composure, the elder sister confronts the father, revealing that the money was the compensation she received after being sexually harassed by her former employer, which led to her resignation. The father, illogically connecting his daughter’s harassment to his belief that his wife had left the house due to an affair, directs his anger and violence towards his daughter. At this point, the younger sister also loses her composure, and rushes at the father with a kitchen knife. While the elder sister tries to stop the younger sister and take her outside, the father, in a fit of despair, sets the house on fire.

Jeon Bo-hyeon in A Certain Family’s Dinner. Photo: Theatre Company Beyond

As the house begins to burn, the elder sister rushes in to save the father, and in that moment she and the younger sister, who has called on her to stop, lock eyes. Overcoming a moment of hesitation, the elder sister and the younger sister rush into the flames and manage to save the father. Looking at the burning vinyl house, the elder sister, with tears in her eyes, smiles and says, “It’s better this way. Let it all burn. Let it all burn. . . .” Finally, the family gathers in their new home, provided through emergency housing support. The chicken dinner, made from chickens they received as a compensation, becomes a significant meal for them. During this happy celebration, the younger sister suddenly bursts into tears as she faces the audience. When the elder sister asks why she is crying, the younger sister responds, “I feel guilty,” referring to the incident where she called on her sister to stop her from running into the fire to save their father. These sisters, who struggle to live together and support each other, break free from the realistic progression of the play and express to the audience the deep truth within their hearts through soliloquies and asides. These scenes, composed of monologues and asides that intrude into the flow of realistic acting, resonate deeply with the audience, most likely because of the subtle effects of the grotesque. The contradiction of being able to laugh in the most tragic scenes and cry in the most hopeful scenes speaks directly to the truth of our lives.

Kim Hyo-joo in A Certain Family’s Dinner. Photo: Theatre Company Beyond

Through the lens of the grotesque that emerged in the Romantic era, we have observed Kafka’s literary world and several stages of contemporary Korean theatre. Enacted by clearly delineating the boundaries between tragedy and comedy in the classical theatre and surpassing the aesthetic that has been observed, the aesthetics of the grotesque illuminate the core of Kafka’s literary world in the modern era. Although they belong to different genres, the theatrical productions staged in Korea last season, Waiting for Godot, House Sonata and A Certain Family’s Dinner, all captivated their respective audiences with scenes that highlighted the effect of the grotesque. Regardless of the era and genre, the power of truth that emerges through a blend of contradictions remains strong. The grotesque will continue to shine in numerous works of art that captivate humanity.


Bibliography

Beckett, Samuel. En Attendant Godot. Edition Minuit, 1966.

Kafka, Franz. The Castle. Translated by Kwon Hyukjoon, Changbi, 2022.

—. The Metamorphosis, Country Doctor. Translated by Lee Deokhyung, Moonye, 2019 (1973).

—. The Trial. Translated by Kim Hyunseong, Moonye, 2022.

Yoon, Andy kihoon. La Lune en papier. Translated by Choi Françoise and Lee Hwawon et al. Atelier des cahiers, 2019.

—. Oeuvres dramatiques I-IV. Yeonin, 2011, 2014, 2024. 


Photo: The Korean Theatre Journal

*Hwawon Lee earned her PhD from the University of Minnesota, USA, and also completed an M.A. degree from Seoul National University. She is currently Professor Emeritus, Sangmyung University, and serves as the Representative of the Center for the Arts Beyond Boundaries, and the Editor-in-Chief of Theatre Criticism (the Korean Theatre Journal). Professor Hwawon Lee is also the author of A New Reading of Jean Racine’s Tragedy and Reading the World by Way of Theatre, and has translated a selection of Molière’s comedies.

Copyright © 2024 Hwawon Lee
Critical Stages/Scènes critiques, #30, Dec. 2024
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