Whether this would work as a play I don't know, and it might be hard to read on paper, but it made a great film. I only wish I could get it on video (which was how I ended up here writing this review - I was searching the web for a video of the film).

Don't believe me? Compare a better journal (yes, not a review but a journal) from better days: the Partisan Review during the 40's, for example.

The authors combine their own practical flight experience, along with photographs (both period and today) of the famous "last flight" route, to convincingly determine and at point in the "last flight" Richtofen received his mortal wound, and who inflicted it. Addionally, they contend Richtofen made a "map reading" error that greatly contributed to the final outcome.

World War I aviation buffs will want to add this work to their collections.

I also learned once that the French King, Louis XIV, used to hold court with his advisors and other notables while receiving his daily enema, thereby making him sort of a public "enema of the people." No wonder the French monarchy had so many problems.

It's amazing how much of history seems to relate to the proctological vagaries of its rulers. In George III's case, because of his unfortunate anal fistula, one could say it perhaps ultimately came down to a problem with the bottom of the man at the top.

The particular text of the two with which I am concerned is "Kafka's Dick." My reading of the text was in conjunction with a directing class production at the local university. At the time the literary vivisectionist aspects of this play touched rather close to home. Quite frankly, I was sick of picking nits and wanted so desperately to just *enjoy* a story. But he daily rape of dead authors in English classes mad that quite impossible. Why they were teaching Chekoslovakian authors in English lit I'll never know.

"Kafka's Dick" deals with just that subject in a rather surreal way. Franz Kafka and his friend and publisher Max Brod are brought back to life in the living room of a literary critic who just happens to be writing on the subject of Franz Kafka. Franz discovers unexpected fame and utter embarrasment at the thought of having his sexual organs bandied about in public. The author is lost in a great sea of literary criticism. The author's work is forgotten or only half remembered:

KAFKA: . . . A beetle.

BROD: Say again?

KAFKA: Not a cockroach. You said cockroach. It was a beetle.

BROD: Will you listen to this man. I make him world famous and he quibbles over entomology.

Franz is himself oblivious to it all:

SYDNEY: . . . What you're saying is he doesn't know he's Kafka.

BROD: He knows he's Kafka. He doesn't know he's KAFKA.

This makes for some truly fine comedy at the expense of authors, critics, publishers, and readers of fine literature. A bit of the humor, however, is a little Kafka-specific (which is to be expected, really). This might make the show suffer from the same intellectual inaccessability that it complains of in the world of literary criticism. Nevertheless, I found the text to be quite amusing having only read the standard required Kafka short stories. This was mostly due to it's truly bizarre nature. The play ends on an odd twist with Kafka in heaven:

(The music swells as GOD and CARMEN MIRANDA dance. Then it fades as KAFKA comes forward to the audience.)

KAFKA: I'll tell you something. Heaven is going to be hell.

The many flashback sequences all have a legimate authentic golden and silver age look and feel to them. While the idea of presenting the story of Supreme with this technique is inititally clever and effective, over the course of this 300+ page TPB, Moore goes to the well too often. If I had read this collection in the original monthly installments, I wouldn't have minded it, and probably would have even looked forward to the next issue. While I'm not sure which segments I would jettison (because they're all individually drawn and written with care and imagination), the repetition starts to weigh in, especially if you try to read the whole book in one or two sittings.

This is a fun read, suitable for audiences of all ages. This is much more in line with Moore's work on Tom Strong, and especially, Superman: Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow. Fans of Moore's more "serious" work: Watchmen, From Hell, V For Vendetta, and Swamp Thing, may be disappointed with this.

I love it, and you should, too.
I'm patiently waiting for the return!