The Man Who Killed Don Quixote

Maybe it helps to be familiar with Terry Gilliam's canon of work. But as a whole The Man Who Killed Don Quixote is a multi-layered story of the Ages of Man. The Dreamer and the Raconteur living in parallel lives.

What's fascinating is how the meanings of each of the characters and their story arcs fold into each other from the director, Terry Gilliam's own life to Adam Driver, playing a Gilliam figure all the way to Jonathan Pryce's man who's seemingly lost his mind. Part of me wonders how much of this is a farcical documentary or auto-biography.

Still as heady as it can be it still entertains. The acting is great, the characters are fully realized and the settings, cinematography and production design are signature styles of Gilliam: hand-crafted to bend to the will of his vision...as mad as it may be.

This is not a run-of-the-mill linear movie. It's not a popcorn flick. There's a lot to interpret and involve the audience so, don't expect instant gratification. To a lot of reviewers it seems they were overwhelmed by an unclear story. Which that may be true for those who don't want to be involved in the story. It asks a bit of self-reflection, it asks a bit of trust that the characters, working on several levels of psychosis, dreams, hallucinations and madness will all come to a natural conclusion in their story arcs and bring the global story of the film into one single point of focus:

We all had dreams once and we got lost. We may remember those dreams in our middle-age and yet in our old age we may become consumed by the dream to point of dreaming of our own existence.

If you like BRAZIL or THE IMAGINARIUM OF DOCTOR PARNASSUS you will like this film.

The history of the making of this movie is ultimately more interesting than the movie itself. A disaster-prone adaptation of Don Quixote eventually gets made about a movie as a director sucked into the book's world. The script was rewritten, year after year, so it's surprising that the end result feels a little under-baked.

The film follows a director, Toby, who while filming the windmill scene from Don Quixote discovers a copy of a student film he made on the same topic. He goes in search of his actors, finds his lead has taken on the role permanently, and finds himself floating between reality and fantasy.

Toby is a fairly awful and destructive person, and to some extent the movie follows the trajectory of awful person gets a chance to look at his life. But that part isn't especially convincing. The movie is mainly notable for Jonathan Pryce's spirited take on Quixote, the decadence of the castle scenes, and the shifting realities. But while all these things are good on their own, they never quite fit into a cohesive drama. Joana Ribeiro is appealing as the damsel, but her motivations are murky and she always seems more plot device than fleshed-out character. And the ending is just lazy and unconvincing.

Parts of the movie are enjoyable, but at the end my reaction was a big "so what."

Along with the opening credits, Don Quixote delivers a speech explaining who he is and why he is such a great man. This is the first of several fine performances of the character. Don't get the idea this film will be easy to follow or understand.

Don Quixote No. 2 attacks a windmill. Again, a great job and very funny.

There's nothing normal or predictable about this movie, and what else would you expect from a member of Monty Python? I discovered their brilliant work some years ago on PBS, long after they were still popular as a group. I wasn't actually thinking about who wrote this until I saw the credits at the end. But it's a brilliant job if you're not looking for logic.

I've heard of Jonathan Pryce, and I've heard he is quite a good actor. What he does here is Oscar caliber, not just because he is quite funny, but because later in the movie Javier comes to realize people laugh at him, and not in a good way, and yet he struggles to keep his dignity. He even seems to realize that he is in fact not Don Quixote. It's a brilliant job.

Adam Driver does a fine job as well as Toby, having to go through so many different situations and emotions, and doing all of this admirably.

If I have to single out any other actors, it would be Joana Ribeiro as Angelica and Olga Kurylenko as Jacqui.

And I didn't quite know where to include this, but there is one funny scene where one of the Don Quixotes attacks a trio of giants. That's quite a funny scene, actually.

There were so many locations listed in the credits, which were too small for me to really read, but wherever this was filmed, it looked great. Wonderful outdoor scenery, an impressive castle, even what appeared to be the ruins of a once fine church. Set decoration should have been considered at Oscar time.

And the costumes! So much of this movie looked like it took place when Don Quixote lived. I won't explain why but it will all eventually make sense. You should find out on your own whether someone was dreaming or fantasizing or whether you were seeing a film or something else.

And let's not forget the music. This was supposed to be Spain, and it had plenty of flamenco guitar which was quite good. Background music was appropriate for an adventure and sometimes sounded like a circus. And in the castle, there were even African drummers and dancers which didn't get shown nearly enough.

Is this family friendly? Even cleaned up for TV, I doubt it. There was one scene where so much was bleeped there wasn't really anything left. But what violence there was didn't have a lot of blood, and some was just funny. A few people die, but in some scenes it's not certain what happened. And one person is shown being burned and then from another angle it's just fabric and what must be fans making it look like flames.

My only explanation of why this movie wasn't mentioned at Oscar time is to compare it to Carrie Underwood in "The Sound of Music". A fine job, but so many others in that production were so much better. And I guess this happens when movies get Oscar nominations. There are just so many great ones.

Not a masterpiece, not a disaster, The man who killed Don Quixote has the qualities and faults of what it is, that is to say, basically, a film for one spectator only : Terry Gilliam himself. Announcing its legend in the opening credits, the film takes pleasure in referring quite openly to the misadventures of Lost in La Mancha, most often through lines put in the mouth of the producer played by Stellan Skarsgard. These winks would be at best anecdotic, at worst narcissistic, if we didn't realize little by little that, we are in the presence of a true cinematic exorcism. Exorcism of this damned project, certainly. Exorcism also, through the character of Toby, of what Gilliam could have become if he had listened to the sirens of advertising and had become a soulless hack. Exorcism finally, and this is the most touching, of what Gilliam is afraid of becoming (and that he may have already become for some), that is to say an old fool who no longer interests anyone, an old dreamer in a materialistic world, a relic from another time, mocked and ridiculed. Thus, despite all its failures (problems of rhythm, lack of breath due to lack of money, episodic structure that works randomly and unfortunately makes Quixote disappear many times), we can only admire this film which bears on its face its testamentary dimension. Transmission, summary of a life, return on his youth, everything is there. Gilliam is Quixote, Gilliam is Toby, Gilliam will die but Gilliam is immortal since his dreams are forever with us on film. This is the bittersweet and somewhat crazy statement of The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, a film about films, a story about stories, an endless dream.

I've been tracking the interesting production history of this movie since I saw Lost in La Mancha, the intended behind the scenes documentary for the inevitable DVD release of Gilliam's first concentrated effort at bringing his version of Don Quixote to the screen. After the disastrous first week of filming led to Gilliam and his producers agreeing to shut down production, the insurance company ended up with the rights to the script, and Gilliam spent the next 15 years or so trying to get them back.

Once he finally did, he rewrote the script, and, from what I can tell, it was a drastic rewrite. Our purported Sancho Panza no longer falls through time, and it looks like the fantastic elements ended up getting reduced significantly. In the documentary, there's view of some suits of armor walking on their own that I was really hoping to see Gilliam work into the film, but alas, they did not make it.

Reviews began to come out, and they were largely what I would have expected. Gilliam's best days are behind him, especially in terms of critical opinion. It's largely self-inflicted after disasters like Tideland and The Zero Theorem, but critics aren't as enthralled with Gilliam as they used to be when he was putting out Brazil and Twelve Monkeys. Reaction to Don Quixote was largely mixed, but I ended up seeing Kyle Smith's review at National Review where he completely trashes the film (determining that Gilliam needs a studio to keep him focused, seemingly forgetting about the existence of The Brothers Grimm) and felt a bit dispirited. I'd been looking forward to this film for years, and I didn't want it to be bad.

Well, I think a lot of people are missing something with the film, because I kind of loved The Man Who Killed Don Quixote. Gilliam probably would be helped by hiring writers with stronger senses of narrative structure and focus, but then something would get lost. Part of Gilliam's appeal, to me at least, is how he is willing to follow any random thought. Sometimes that fails, but often enough it succeeds, and I think it succeeds here largely because it's obvious that he both knows the original text by Cervantes, but he also understands it.

Don Quixote is actually two books written ten years apart, and I've always preferred the second. The first is the famous one that includes the fight against the windmill and the slaughter of the army of sheep, but it's the second one where the real heart of the book comes through. To be honest, as I prepared to see the movie in the months up to its release, I never even considered the idea that Gilliam would approach that second half, but one of the trailers included a shot of a woman, dressed in medieval finery, saying, "This is going to be fun." I saw that and knew that Gilliam wasn't going to ignore the actual heart of the book.

Toby, a commercial director who's cynicism has overtaken him completely, is in Spain shooting an insurance commercial that has a take on Don Quixote. At dinner, a peddler has a copy of his student film for sale, a black and white adaptation of Don Quixote. He's fascinated by the journey back in time and decides that, since where he's staying is so close to where he had filmed that student project, he's going to take some time in the middle of the day to visit. He finds the place changed. The town feels less lively. The girl who played Dulcinea has vanished and her father is angry at Toby for it. And, most importantly, the old cobbler he had hired to play the titular role has gone mad and thinks himself to be the knight errant. Through a series of accidents and bits of craziness, Toby finds himself as Quixote's Sancho Panza, a role which Toby takes up reluctantly.

Fantasy and reality begin to mix (a common theme in Gilliam's work). First there are dreams that we and the character think are real for a time. Then come waking moments when reality bends (especially around a saddlebag of gold Toby finds on the side of the road). There are scenes that call back to moments in the book like when the citizens of the town find Toby and Quixote and challenge him to a joust as a knight in shining armor made of cut up DVDs reflecting the sun (which mirrors a similar scene in the book). They eventually come across a parade of medieval dressed people, and Toby doesn't know if it's real or not. Awkwardly, he acts as though it is, but the reality is somewhere in between. It's not that he's traveled back in time, but that these are modern people playing dressup. They're people Toby knows, including his boss's wife who are playacting at the behest of a Russian financier and vodka tycoon that Toby's boss is trying to win an advertising contract from.

And this is where the meat of the original book's second half comes in. In the book, Quixote and Panza are invited in by some rich people who have read the first half of the story (in universe, as they say, everyone's read the first half of the real world book) and decide to have some fun with the errant knight. Panza sees through it all, but Quixote gladly becomes the butt of every joke. Pretty much the same thing happens in the movie, and it works really really well. It culminates in Quixote mounting a mechanical horse with a blindfold on as he travels to the moon to fight the enchanter and then continues on to the sun. He's convinced it's all real, but everyone around him is merrily laughing at him, all except Toby.

And that's where the real heart of the movie is, because the movie's central theme is the role of wide-eyed optimism and the place of chivalry in the modern world. Yes, it may be out of place. Yes, the world we've created may naturally push it away, but there's still place for it. Quixote's place was to try to right the wrongs of the modern world, and when he dies a bit later, Toby can't seem to imagine a world without the old man, and the process of blending reality and fantasy continues until we end the movie with the most famous episode from the original book, the attack on the giants, led by Toby who has become Don Quixote himself.

Seriously, the movie is wonderful, I thought, but wonderful in a way that Gilliam is known for, which is unfocused storytelling with visual tangents that don't always go anywhere. However, the central two characters, Toby and Quixote, are wonderful, and the journey shockingly well realized within the messy box that Gilliam works.

I thought it was his best movie since Twelve Monkeys.