Kafka's Letter to His Father

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He wrote dozens of pages explaining to his father exactly how the man had shaped and frightened him, and then never sent it. Anyone who has drafted a message like that at two in the morning and deleted it before dawn knows the whole architecture: the scrupulous fairness, the rehearsed accusations, the way you argue both sides because you already know how it ends. Hermann Kafka never read a word. It survives only because Franz kept it, which is its own kind of admission. Staged across three nights at UCLA's Nimoy Theater, a converted Westwood movie house rebuilt as a room that seats a few hundred, the piece puts a roomful of strangers in the position of the reader that letter never found. That is the uncomfortable part, and the reason to go with somebody you can talk to afterwards. 8 PM from November 12 through the 14th, 1262 Westwood Blvd.