Tilting at Mirrors
For the return of lauded Chicago theatre company Lookingglass, an adaptation of Miguel de Cervantes’ Don Quixote feels like an auspicious choice of material. Lookingglass’ brand of equally intimate and epic theatre asks its audience to lean in and absorb the fact that they are sharing space with top-flight artists. The result is a hilarious and exhilarating piece of physical theatre, an assured return by Lookingglass to full-scale production.
Alonso Quijano, a low-level Spanish nobleman, loses touch with reality and after reading copious tales of knights from his massive rocking chair and dubs himself Don Quixote de La Mancha. A passing familiarity with Cervantes or even the 1960s musical Man of La Mancha fills in the exposition, hardly necessary given how eagerly and succinctly the Catlins’ script relates the story in conversational Spanglish. Cervantes is our narrator, spinning his yarn from prison. When the chair transforms into Rocinante, his trusty steed, he is off on adventures, chasing the blessing of Dulcinea, his lady love (who looks an awful lot like his housekeeper).
Circus Quixote pairs a script by David (a Lookingglass founder) and Kerry Catlin, who also take on co-directing duties, with high-flying circus and stunts from Lookingglass ensemble member Sylvia Hernandez-DiStasi, whose Evanston-based The Actors Gymnasium are co-presenters of the production. The text defuses any seriousness with Pythonesque jokes and a metatextual, self-effacing vaudeville quality which lends itself well to the play’s focus on circus. These acts are the show’s strongest asset, integrated elegantly into the plot. If your protagonist is an old man at the mercy of his imagination, there’s nothing out of place about characters flying into the rafters or massive puppets flapping over the audience’s heads. As much as I would love to, I won’t go into depth about these exhilarating moments. They are best seen for yourself.
The cast, composed of both Lookingglass regulars and Actors Gymnasium associates, ably balances (pun intended) their acrobatic work with winning performances. Michel Cintra-Rodriguez, in the titular role, is a charming rake while also imbuing his performance with deep pathos which emerges when he wakes from his fantasies. Laura Murillo Hart, as both Quixote’s housekeeper and Dulcinea, oscillates between excellent comedic ensemble work and beautiful live vocals, often accompanying herself on guitar. The rest of the ensemble each has their own moment to shine on the equipment, and all play multiple roles as Quixote rambles through La Mancha. The most inspired choice is Eddie Martinez in the dual roles of Cervantes and Sancho Panza, Quixote’s exasperated and loyal squire, performances that Martinez delivers with a deadpan sweetness. Through this doubling, Panza and Cervantes’ affections for Quixote become one.
It’s also noteworthy that most of the cast is Latiné, covertly asking the audience to consider the impact of descendants of Spanish colonial subjects performing what is considered to be the paragon of Spanish literature. (Lookingglass and Teatro Vista are partnering on a post-show discussion series on the intersections between Don Quixote and Latiné identity.)
The design elements of Circus Quixote are as thrilling as the action itself. Performed in a thrust configuration in Lookingglass’ newly renovated theatre in Chicago’s Water Works, the playing space, designed by Courtney O’Neill, is simple, with a back wall composed of books and the infamous windmills looming, as well as a second tier. The ensemble’s costumes, by Lookingglass ensemble member Sully Ratke, blend the ragged glory of Quixote’s idealism with the comfort necessary for the cast to perform their stunts and choreograpjy safely. A dress in the second act, doubling as a Punch-and-Judy puppet theater, is some of the most creative costume construction I’ve ever seen. Daphne Agosin’s lighting design carries us all around La Mancha and shifts us in and out of Quixote’s dreams, while Chicago Puppet Lab co-director Grace Needlman’s puppets bring Quixote’s imagination roaring to life while still appearing lovably rickety.
There’s a patchwork quality to Circus Quixote that keeps the piece light and loose, but when the Catlins’ script turns earnest, it is miraculously not jarring. After all, this is the story of an aging man whose late-in-life flights of fancy send him and a neighbor running across the Spanish countryside as his family and community gives chase. The panic that Quijano’s behavior engenders is treated with appropriate gravity, and the lessons his family and friends learn as a result make for considerable, well-deserved character growth. The play’s faith in Quixote’s desire to do good deeds to fix a broken world, as well as the unique impact that fantasy has on a community, is infectious, dreamy without being saccharine.
Circus Quixote is a testament to the power and simplicity of live performance. A bunch of strangers enter a room, performers do amazing things, and all are transported to a wildly different time and place. As Lookingglass regains its footing, it could do worse than to keep returning to what makes Circus Quixote work so well. If producing theatre is tilting at windmills, at least do it with the aplomb of Don Quixote.
