In yet another amazing -- and amazingly weird -- cinematic exercise, Terry Gilliam may not win any new fans but will certainly satisfy old ones. Then again, I liked his latest film so much that I feel the need to revisit some older ones to see if I didn't judge him too harshly.
The Man Who Killed Don Quixote directly refers to Toby, a director of commercials and an artistic failure. Played by Adam Driver, Toby struggles with a commercial set in Spain starring the characters of Don Quixote and Sancho. Leaving the shoot, Toby meets a Gypsy who sells him an old DVD to provide inspiration; the film, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, was Toby's own student project a decade prior. Reminded of that film -- and the artistic promise it held for him -- he goes to the nearby town where it was shot. There he finds the man who played his original Don Quixote, played by what might be a career-best performance from Jonathan Pryce, who has become utterly convinced that he is, in fact, the literary icon.
It's a rollicking comedy-drama that quickly escalates into a fantasy adventure as Quixote enlists his Sancho (Toby) to join him on his run from the law. The two journey through time and space while characters from the past and from fiction come thrillingly to life. Absurdist in the best way, Gilliam keeps everything pretty grounded and plausible, if only as feverish daydreams. More importantly, the magnificent design of the film sensually draws you into its splendor so that by the climax, the gorgeous costumes craft an exquisite world of such realistic fantasy you feel swept away by the sheer spectacle.
It's hard to shake, though, the heart of the movie. Hidden between the varied comic bits are moments of pure emotion that make the film feel almost confessional. Gilliam's hands may be all over his own aesthetic, but so is his life, and this feels as close to a passion project as anything else he's done. It probably helps that he's had this movie in the works for almost three decades. Issues of identity, artistic integrity, alternate realities, sanity, love and passion, and of course the darkly comic realities of lives lived to the fullest swirl around here, as if Gilliam is asking himself to review his own work and suggest what comes next.
Is it his masterpiece? That depends on your taste. I think the case is there, and while it may not hold up to the intellectual fascination of 12 Monkeys or Brazil, I'd argue that it might be his most accessible, most grounded, and most emotionally innocent and joyful film in years. "You crazy peasant. You think you can hide from me? We shall have such great adventures together." Indeed.
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