Friday: The Man who Killed Don Quixote

https://www.cinetopiafestival.org

One of my favorite things about living in Ypsi is that we are close enough to Ann Arbor to get to all the amazing cultural events of our blue bubble without having to deal with the students on the daily. One of my favorite cultural things (besides the Farmer's Market, Festifools/Foolmoon, the Peonies and blah blah blah-- yeah...I love A2) is Cinetopia. I am a huge movienerd. I suspect growing up in my Great Uncle's movie theatre (my grandfather was a projectionist and I hung out up there quite a bit) in my tiny hometown of Vassar, Mich is the impetus for that personality trait...

ANYWAY... Terry Gilliam. Yowza! Pete got us back into A2 for more Cinetopia. He wanted to see Quixote. (I still want to see the Emily/Wild Nights flick so maybe we will get three posts from this year's movie festival. I need to volunteer next season.)

It appears that Gilliam took 25 years to make this flick. He started in '89. It was the closing film at the 2018 Cannes and was simultaneously released in French theaters. The break in the production is fully covered in wikipedia... "During Terry Gilliam's eighth attempt at making his infamous development hell project The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, Hurt was set to star as Don Quixote alongside Adam Driver. However, his declining health and eventual death led to project to be cancelled yet again; he was eventually replaced by Jonathan Pryce."  

Gilliam is special. He is ballsy. He is funny. He is tongue in cheek. He is American. His movies are unique and fantastic (see Baron Munchausen who BTW, is also an idealistic fictional male character, just  German not Spanish. Shit, I just realized that in Gilliam's "Brazil"  he uses the same idea of poorly maintained machines to satirize our Kafkaesque (dysfunctional) modern world.  This idea ties right back to Tolkien's distrust of industry and machines.

Gilliam's self referential cuts have got to tie into the constant use/placement of mirrors on set. The side mirror on the motorcycle... the broken mirrors on the Enchanter's armor in particular reflect the infinity funhouse of looking into the void. BUT UNLIKE Karuski, who hands us a logical explanation for the flights of imagination when Tolkien is in the trenches/fog of war. Gilliam has Driver's character Toby launch into drunken dreams, head bumps and spinning cinematography that is, for me, confusing and disorienting. I would love it if Gilliam could be a directorial filter on a legit narrative (just for shits and giggles maybe Gabriel Garcia Marquez' The Very Old Man with Enormous Wings?). Any piece of magic realism THAT HAS A PLOT. Gilliam's original pieces feel like beautiful story boards, there is always lacking a strong narrative skeleton to support the visuals. It feels...empty.

But yeah, Adam Driver. Damn, that kid has some chops. "Patterson" was truly amazing and he continues to impress. I was mesmerized by Toby's self loathing--his confusion and loss of passion. He studies himself and finds a gap between who he wants to be (auteur/artist) versus who he knows really is (directing an insurance commercial) the realization and frustrated disappointment of knowing you can make good art but you are stuck fucking the wife of your boss-- so you can buy expensive Italian loafers. (There maybe a recurring motif of a shoe fetish too... not sure...) This is soul crushing. Toby becomes another reflection of Quixote tilting at a windmills (ugly giants) that represent idealized ART not Chivalry.

Chivalry. Unrequited love...men seeking idealized women, it gets a little dull frankly. There are several interesting women in this flick, but they are left as empty and hollow as the narrative. I was happy to notice that Gilliam's daughter Amy was unit production manager, but that was not enough to take the female characters out of their shallow two dimensional roles. Women are passive, wounded and undeveloped. Only when Angelica owns her Sancho role (in a bad costume and as a supporting role of caregiver) does she read as a real human. sigh.

The dual narration of our two Quixotes as they ride into the sunset was weak and did nothing to ground the viewer. If Gilliam wanted to leave us floating in an unsettling and surreal metaphor he did a great job.