by Alan Bennett
Thin Doctor Get out.
Franz Not until somebody tells me where to go.
Fat Doctor Call someone. Call the doorman.
Thin Doctor Doorman!
The door springs open and the Attendant rushes on to the balcony and seizes Franz. He drags him down to the Tribunal.
Mad. Mad. Mad, sir, mad.
Franz struggles with him.
Angry Doctor (to the Attendant) Stop it, you animal. You’re not in a farmyard.
Attendant Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.
Angry Doctor Let me see that paper.
Franz gives him his docket.
(to Franz) Come with me. (Rises.) Any excuse to get away from this collective idiocy. (Shouts back at the panel.) Idiocy. Come along.
INT. WAITING ROOM OUTSIDE TRIBUNAL. DAY
Franz follows the Angry Doctor, the Claimants are lined up outside.
Angry Doctor I hope you’re all word perfect on your personality changes. (Strides at great speed along the corridor, talking to himself.) It’s a wicked world. It’s a wicked, wicked world. I have lost my faith. Doctor loses faith. Doctor goes way of other doctors.
He and Franz stop.
It just needs one person, just one to come before that panel and say, ‘Doctor, since suffering this grievous affliction I am a new man, a better person.’
They move off.
‘The loss of my hand has been an education. Blinded, I can now see.’ Instead of which it’s ‘How much is it worth?’
One-Legged Man Doctor!
The One-Legged Man stands up, supported by his crutch.
Angry Doctor How much do you think this is worth, eh?
He takes the crutch and hurls it down. Without the crutch the One-Legged Man falls over. The Angry Doctor turns to Franz.
How much is whatever you’ve got worth? (As they continue walking) I’m not a doctor any more. I’m an accountant.
INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE TALL WOMAN’S OFFICE. DAY
The Angry Doctor and Franz arrive outside the Tall Woman’s office.
Angry Doctor This it? (Looks at Franz’s docket) Yes. Journey’s end.
The door opens and the Tall Woman comes out.
Tall Woman Ah! The lost sheep.
Angry Doctor Blessed are the maimed for they shall be compensated.
The Angry Doctor goes.
Tall Woman Come on.
She goes down the corridor and round the corner, followed by a confused Franz.
Miss Weber (voice over) Don’t you sometimes just long to see one …
INT. OFFICE AREA. DAY
Pohlmann and Miss Weber in Pohlmann’s office.
Pohlmann eating as usual, sandwich in one hand, the other hand on Miss Weber’s bottom, though she betrays no sign of this on her face except for a slight wavering in her voice.
Miss Weber (reading from a file) … single able-bodied person. Someone who doesn’t lack an arm here or a finger there, who doesn’t pull up their shirt without wanting to reveal some frightful burn. Somebody normal?
The door opens and the Tall Woman shows Franz into the office. Pohlmann hurriedly removes his hand from Miss Weber.
Tall Woman Your lost sheep.
She goes.
Pohlmann Oh, take a seat.
Franz doesn’t.
Franz I was here this morning … I’ve been all over. I was supposed to see Doctor Kafka.
Miss Weber Doctor Kafka has gone home. His hours are eight until two.
Franz Does that mean I have to come back?
Pohlmann You have reached the beginning. You are about to start. You have been allowed to enter the race.
Franz Look. I’m covered in scale.
He shows them his hands and a shower of scurf falls on the desk.
Miss Weber You’re not. Your face is perfectly normal. Don’t exaggerate.
Pohlmann (filling in a form) This gives you an appointment with the Institute doctor. They’re having public clinics on Thursdays. He will look at you and decide if he thinks this skin complaint is anything to do with an accident at work.
Franz I’ve told you. I haven’t had an accident.
Miss Weber So why go on? Stop now. Before it’s too late.
Pohlmann No new process? No new chemicals? Nothing new in your life.
Franz I’ve just got engaged.
Miss Weber (drily) Any accident there?
INT. CHRISTINA’S PARENTS APARTMENT. NIGHT
Franz and his fiancée, Christina, are sitting awkwardly in the formal parlour. The Old Lady in a wheelchair is there also. Christina tries to kiss him. Franz looks unhappy, and indicates the Old Lady as an excuse. Christina rises, then turns the wheelchair round so that the Old Lady is facing the wall. She closes the doors. She slowly unbuttons her dress to reveal her breasts. Franz looks away, tears in his eyes. Christina turns away, angry.
INT. RAILWAY STATION/PLATFORM, PRAGUE. DAY
A steam train has just arrived at the platform. From the other side of the train we see Franz standing looking at his Father who has just got off a train. He is a peasant and is much smaller than Franz. He embraces his son.
Franz (Old) (voice over) I’d written to my father. He was a peasant. The family were in … well, it’s now Germany … he came to Prague. I think of my father then as an old man. But he was younger than I am now. He had remedies of his own.
INT. STATION LAVATORY. DAY
Franz and his Father are in a cubicle. Franz has his shirt open. Franz’s Father spreads out some kind of leaves, presses them to his son’s chest. We see Franz’s face. He is touched by his Father’s love but he has no faith in this remedy.
INT. FRANZ’S LODGINGS. NIGHT
Franz is asleep. His Father is sitting in a chair by his bedside, his hat on. He takes it off.
INT. MEDICAL SCHOOL ENTRANCE. DAY
Kafka rushing in, late, confronted by several staircases, and trying to find his way into the auditorium.
Lecturer (Senior Doctor) (out of vision) All in all it’s a pretty mixed bag, but slanted on the whole in the direction of injury at work. Plus some teasers for the …
INT. AUDITORIUM, MEDICAL SCHOOL. DAY
Sitting at the back of the auditorium, Franz’s Father watches.
Lecturer … people in the fourth year and also some interesting examples of occupational disease. Increasing industrialization means this field of medicine is bound to expand. I imagine that’s why many of you are here.
Some laughter. We follow Kafka in, to reveal the Senior Doctor standing before the auditorium full of Students. Kafka sits down.
Physical conditions, some of which you will see, take time to declare themselves and I would ask you to remember that we are seeing today casualties of conditions in the industry of twenty, even thirty years ago, conditions which …
This speech continuing under, we cut to a group of patients, sitting on benches at the side of the auditorium all made ready in linen gowns. Among them, we note Lily. An Attendant sits next to them. Franz, gowned, and ready, is sitting waiting.
Man I’m a miracle. I have a hole in my stomach. They watch the food passing through. Lecturer (out of vision).. in all likelihood have since been improved. Industrial safety is bound to lag behind medical knowledge …
Young Woman He’s had an article written about him Show him your article.
We now cut back to the Lecturer.
Lecturer … and doubtless in thirty or forty years’ time when I hope I shall be safely tucked up in my grave …
We cut back to the Patients as the speech goes on under.
The Man begins to show his article to Franz. Lecturer (out of vision) … my hapless successor will still be stood here. Legislation is after all only a net.
Young Woman He’s famous with doctors. Somebody came from Paris to see him. And they pay.
Attendant Ssh!
Cut back to Lecturer.
Lecturer Nowadays the mesh may be wide. But if you believe in progress, which I do not, the mesh will get smaller and t
he number of people suffering from industrial injury will dwindle. But it won’t, of course: because there will be new industries and new industries mean new diseases. You have chosen a wise profession, gentlemen. Doctors will never be unemployed. Now could we have our first conundrum please.
The Attendant signals to Franz.
Attendant Come on.
Franz walks on to the stage, watched by Kafka. Franz is standing in a pool of light on the stage.
Lecturer (to Franz) Disrobe.
Franz does so, and stands naked. We see his scaly chest, and as the Lecturer indicates for him to turn round, his back also.
(to Students) Well? (Seeing Student raise his hand.) Yes.
First Student Is it a form of psoriasis?
Lecturer Wonderful. Anybody got any brilliant ideas about the aetiology? Patient is in no discomfort. Affected areas don’t itch, not sore. Well, come on, come on. What sort of question should we be asking?
Second Student What age is the patient?
Lecturer (to Franz) How old are you?
Franz Twenty-six.
Lecturer Twenty-six.
Third Student Married or single?
Franz Single.
Fourth Student Is it venereal in origin?
The Lecturer looks at Franz, who he thinks has not understood.
Lecturer Did you get it from a tart?
Franz (passionately) No.
Lecturer Patient says no. Patient probably right.
Fifth student raises hand.
Well?
Fifth Student Could it be nervous?
Lecturer Are you asking me or are you asking the patient?
During the next section we see Kafka watching intently.
We know what he does. He works in a dyeworks. But what sort of a fellow is he … is he nervous, highly strung, cheerful, not cheerful? Look, what are we supposed to be doing here? Who are you? I thought you were supposed to be medical students.
Franz (shouting) What is it? What have I done? Give me something. Give me something for it. Stop it. It’s all over my body. Why? Why?
We see Franz’s Father, tears running down his face. He leaves.
INT. MEDICAL SCHOOL ENTRANCE. DAY
We leave with Franz’s Father. He sits at the bottom of the ornate staircase in the entrance hall.
Lecturer (voice over) Gentlemen will note agitation of patient and need to assess degree of proper agitation due to patient’s physical condition as distinct from evidence of neurotic instability. Next patient, please.
INT. AUDITORIUM, MEDICAL SCHOOL
The Lecturer standing on the stage. Lily is sitting beside him in a pool of light.
Lecturer Some of you might say that there is nothing wrong with the patient. Once upon a time she met with a slight accident at work.
INT. MEDICAL SCHOOL ENTRANCE. DAY
Franz, once more in his own clothes, comes down the steps to meet his Father. They leave.
Lecturer (voice over) A box fell on her head. She took a few days off and she felt none the worse. But then she heard that in this enlightened age there is compensation for those that suffer injury at work.
INT. AUDITORIUM, MEDICAL SCHOOL. DAY
The Lecturer and Lily, on the stage in the auditorium.
Lecturer ‘Is she entitled to this?’ she wonders. And the wondering turns to worrying as she begins to lie awake at night suffering from headaches. She is increasingly unhappy.
Kafka listens intently to this.
And so begins her quest for compensation but for what? Not the injury, for she has scarcely suffered one. And she is not malingering for the headaches are real. And to those of you who say there is no injury therefore there can be no compensation she can say, ‘But I was not like this before my accident. I had no quest. Looking for what is wrong with me is what is wrong with me!’
INT. ENTRANCE TO RAILWAY STATION. DAY
Franz is seeing his Father off. They embrace. Franz, weeping, runs off down the steps as his Father turns to go.
INT. OFFICE AREA/CORRIDOR. DAY
A cake on a trolley is pushed along the corridor by two Secretaries. Gutling and Culick and others follow it along the corridor. In Kafka’s office, seen from the corridor, Kafka is dressed up and is trying to tie his bow-tie. Pohlmann is sitting at his desk, working. Miss Weber comes in with a bottle of wine and a plate of food.
Miss Weber The good doctor didn’t want you to feel left out.
Pohlmann And the cigar?
Miss Weber goes.
INT. OFFICE. DAY
The party. Κafka is speaking. The room is crowded. The Head of Department in the place of honour. We see Kafka’s colleagues, the Head Clerk, all the staff.
Kafka In my four districts people fall off the scaffolding as if they were drunk, or they fall into the machines, all the beams topple, all embankments give way, all ladders slide, whatever people carry up, falls down, whatever they hand down they stumble over.
Laughter through much of this from Gutling.
And I have a headache …
INT. OFFICE AREA. DAY
During this speech, cut to the empty office area, where Pohlmann is alone. Franz enters.
Kafka (out of vision) … from all those girls in porcelain factories who incessantly throw themselves down the stairs with mountains of dishware.
Hoots of laughter.
I say this only because in making this speech, I fully expect to fall on my face …
Fade down sound.
… and when I do, Herr Head of Department, please remember that it has been in the proper course of my duties and I shall expect to be compensated.
More laughter.
INT. POHLMANN’S OFFICE, DAY
Pohlmann is working. Franz comes in slightly drunk. Kafka’s speech continues under, but inaudible.
Franz Why do you work here? This is a terrible place. It’s a place of torture.
Pohlmann One has to do something.
He holds out his hand for Franz’s papers out of shot.
I need your papers for your file.
Franz I don’t want money. I want it to be given a name. How can I ever get rid of it if it doesn’t have a name?
Suddenly he picks up the bottle of wine and flings it through a window.
INT. OFFICE. DAY
Cut back to Kafka speaking at the party. The sound of shattering glass is heard.
Kafka Voilà. An accident.
More laughter.
Our thanks then to the benign ruler of our topsy-turvy world. This kingdom of the absurd, where it does not pay to be well, where loss determines gain, limbs become commodities and to be given a clean bill of health is to be sent away empty-handed. Our world, where to be deprived is to be endowed, to be disfigured means to be marked out for reward and to limp is to jump every hurdle. The Director guards us, the workers of the Workers Accident Institute, against our own institutional accidents. And I don’t mean falling over the holes in the linoleum on the bottom corridor (Maintenance please note).
Laughter.
INT. OFFICE AREA. DAY
Pohlmann sitting at his desk with Franz sitting opposite him. An Old Mailman trundles his carriage along the corridor and past the office.
Kafka (out of vision) I mean blindness to genuine need, deafness to a proper appeal and hardness of heart. These are our particular professional risks for which there are no safety guards, no grids, no protective clothing. Only a scrupulous and vigilant humanity.
INT. OFFICE. DAY
Cut back to the party.
Kafka A toast then to the benevolent umpire in our absurd games, our firm but kindly father to whom without fear we can always turn, as we do now and say, Herr Director.
They toast him – ‘Herr Director’ – and people applaud.
INT. OFFICE AREA. DAY
The office staff are coming away from the party.
Culick He can certainly talk.
Gutling Of course he can talk. But I can talk. You haven’t heard me talk.
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Culick Haven’t I?
Gutling Not in a formal situation.
Culick Does that make a difference?
Gutling I’d have told him. I’d have used the opportunity to let them know exactly what’s wrong with this place.
Culick Yes.
They disappear into their respective offices. Kafka is in his room, still dressed up, when Pohlmann brings in Franz. Miss Weber is filing away papers.
Kafka Yes?
Pohlmann The dyeworker.
Miss Weber Not again. Really.
Kafka (fiercely) Silence. (Pause.) Please. Sit down.
Franz does so.
Franz I’ve been told you are kind. I’ve been told you are the one to see. They say you are a human being.
Kafka No. I do a very good imitation of a human being.
Franz You are harder to see than anybody.
Miss Weber There has to be a procedure. A system. Is that so terrible?
Kafka What did you want to say to me?
Miss Weber There is nothing to say. It is a hopeless case. People coming in, wanting money.
Franz I don’t want money.
Miss Weber Nobody ever does. I sometimes wonder what they think they’re doing here, it comes as such a shock. ‘You mention money to me when I’ve lost my precious fingers.’ ‘All my treasured auburn hair gone up in smoke and you ask me how much it’s worth.’
Pohlmann Some things are beyond money.
Miss Weber Really? I’ve yet to find them.
Pohlmann We’d all rather have our health than the money.
Miss Weber Correction. We’d all rather have our health and the money.
Kafka You are asking for a justice that doesn’t exist in the world. And not only you. More people. More people every year.
Kafka is looking through the files on the table and finds one.
A man works in the carding room of a cotton mill. Dust everywhere. The air dust. Taken ill. Examined by the company doctor. Unfit for work. Discharged. Nothing unusual in that. Except somebody decides to put in a P48, a claim for compensation, just as you did.
Miss Weber Not applicable. Either of them. Not accidents.
Kafka Quite. But bear with me. Take this millworker. No beam has fallen on his head. No bottle has exploded in his eye. He has not got his shirt caught in the shaft and been taken round. All that has happened is that he has been inhaling cotton dust for some years. And day by day this cotton dust has crept into his lungs, but so slowly, so gradually that it cannot be called an accident. But suppose our lungs were not internal organs. Suppose they were not locked away in the chest. Suppose we carried our lungs outside our bodies, bore them before us, could hold and handle them, cradle them in our arms. And suppose further they were not made of flesh but of glass, or something like glass, not yet invented, something pliable. And thus the effect of each breath could be seen, the deposit of each intake of air, calculated, weighed even. What would we say then, as we saw the dust accumulate, the passages clog, the galleries close down, as cell by cell these lungs hardened, withered, died. Mm?