MILENA

“Writing letters is actually an intercourse with ghosts,” wrote Franz Kafka. The performance “Milena” is an attempt to free oneself from Kafka. But how can anyone free themselves from what they believe they love, especially when the whole world knows you precisely because he wrote you letters?

When Milena Jesenská offered to translate Kafka’s “Amerika: The Missing Person”, their correspondence quickly evolved into something entirely different. The letters not only reflect the stages of their relationship; they are the relationship. Although nearly all the letters* were written between April and November 1920, they met in person only twice. What does a relationship driven almost entirely by imagination mean? On the other hand, aren’t we often in just such relationships ourselves, even when communicating face to face rather than by letters? And if we are, why do we love lying to ourselves so much? How can we shake off that lie?

The performance “Milena” does not aim to reconstruct Milena and Kafka’s relationship, nor to present a documentary portrait of Milena; it seeks to rethink that connection through a kind of theatrical ‘editing’ of fragments. On stage are six actresses, each simultaneously Milena, Kafka, and herself, attempting to speak to Milena, while also acting as editors, arranging the chronology of the performance’s letter.

The director says that “Milena” is, in a sense, an intercourse with ghosts, working with what is absent, with what has never fully existed. “Milena Jesenská’s personality inspires with her indomitable spirit, which cannot be destroyed, even when bodies, cities, and letters are destroyed. But what fascinated me most was the letter format itself, and the fact that editors reconstruct the chronology of the letters without knowing all the dates or details. In this sense, editors perform a kind of ‘translation,’ and we judge and interpret personal human matters from something that is never completely accurate. This ‘translation’ in time, this exposure and arrangement of other people’s private lives at one’s own discretion, both fascinates and irritates me. Such a montage-like letter format provides a perfect stage for theatrical play. The performance emerges from improvisation; in such letters, we send postcards through our bodies. Perhaps we dedicate them to Milena, perhaps to anyone who loves life as it is, but perhaps most of all to those who know what it means to be alone when surrounded by people and yet remain courageous enough to keep living,” says Kutkaitė.

*Only Kafka’s letters to Milena have survived; Jesenská’s letters to Kafka were destroyed.

Milena Jesenská (1896–1944) was a Czech journalist, writer, translator, and member of the resistance movement. Milena was far more than merely “Kafka’s love.” She was one of the most prominent journalists in interwar Czechoslovakia and was actively involved in the anti-Nazi resistance. Because of her activities, she was imprisoned in 1939 and died in 1944 at the Ravensbrück concentration camp. Her work includes more than 1,000 articles, but only a small number have been translated from Czech. These texts reveal her insight into social and cultural changes as well as the threat of Nazism. Milena was a talented translator who contributed to the recognition of Kafka’s work in the Czech literary culture. Despite her association with Kafka, Milena’s independent creative legacy and moral authority are increasingly recognised as highly relevant today.