Playwright: Greg Allen after Kafka. At: The Hypocrites at Chopin Theatre, 1543 W. Division. Tickets: 773-989-7352; www.the-hypocrites.com; $28. Runs through: Nov. 28
I'm not a fan of "metatheatre," an ill-defined blanket term for stage devices which consciously call attention to the fact that they are stage devices, thereby commenting on the story being told and also the manner of its telling. A little metatheatricality goes a very long way for me, as much of it not only is self-aware but often self-congratulatory.
Nonetheless, The Hypocrites production of K. is 100-percent metatheatre, and it works like gangbusters. The simple reason is that metatheatre techniques are perfect for creating the surreal landscape of Franz Kafka's novel The Trial, upon which K. is based.
It's a nightmare dreamscape of shifting time and place and repetitions, and it would have been so even if Kafka had not died before completing the work, leaving behind unintended structural dislocations as well as those he did intend.
And so, in Chelsea Warren's simple but superb scenic design, the audience faces a wall of nine doors, with six more doors on wheels whirling about as needed to indicate rooms, corridors and dead ends. As adapted and directed by Greg Allen, K. also has actors break the fourth wall and break character to comment on the script and story, masks and projections are used, and members of the audience are referenced. All are metatheatrical devices, and all are swift and sure as employed by Allen and his company.
The story—adapted many times before for stage, screen and opera—concerns Joseph K., a rising bank officer arrested the morning of his 30th birthday by agents who never identify themselves, on charges never explained. Going about his business under a form of house arrest, Joseph K. consults with family members, a lawyer, a court painter and even enjoys a sexual dalliance or two as his case—constantly referred to as an important one—slowly goes nowhere in a labyrinth of inexplicable obscurity.
Allen's small changes to Kafka do the tale no damage and allow him to emphasize the bleak comedy of the predicament, resulting in a production that's highly amusing and engaging, especially with Brennan Buhl as an impishly nerdy Joseph K. Allen also makes this 1924 story contemporary ( but not too specifically so ) , allowing audience members to read into its politics and philosophy anything from protesting a ticket at a Dept. of Revenue hearing to Gitmo. But, wisely, Allen turns off the comic spigot at precisely the correct moment, the deadly earnest parable in the cathedral which is to The Trial as the Grand Inquisitor parable is to The Brothers Karamazov: the philosophical ( if not spiritual ) center.
Depending on what side of the bed you rise on, the rule of law is our best friend or worst nightmare, as The Trial and K. make abundantly clear.
