revisiting La Mancha

This is a very good show, and Bobo was wrong about it.
Not a perfect show, and Bobo still doesn't feel that ALL his criticisms were invalid. But the Civic's *Man of La Mancha* is a very good show.
Start with Patrick's performance: exceptional. Incredible. It was a real treat to see this show nearly four weeks after it opened, as opposed to on opening night. Like any show, it has grown and gotten better. I was struck by how well Patrick was _acting_ his way through "The Impossible Dream." He had the pipes when he needed them for the rousing finish, but before that, he was enacting the doubts and self-inspiration of the lyrics, making it a miniature drama all of its own. He's differentiating Cervantes/Quijana/Quixote even better than he was at first. It's a phenomenal performance. In the death scene, with Aldonza pleading with him and finally declaring herself to be, indeed, Dulcinea, I felt like I was watching one of the great moments in the history of Spokane Civic Theatre unfold.

I realized while watching last night was that much of the too-light tone I object to in this show has to do with Dale Wasserman's book of the musical and not Troy Nickerson's direction of it. Having said that, in my (one person's) opinion, Troy should have toned down the silliness considerably more, because some sequences cheapened what was often a profoundly moving show.
"I'm Only Thinking of Him" takes way too long to characterize the skeptic and his fiancee, the padre and the Housekeeper. As written, it's too long and cutesy. The slapstick "victory" by sheer luck of DQ and Sancho and Aldonza over the muleteers, as written, is silly.
Maybe it's a generational thing: What seemed like necessary "comic relief" in 1965 (a bogus theory: people can handle sadness just fine, and it's not as if every bit of bad news has to be carefully prepared for with a bit of I Love Lucy comedy)just comes off as condescending high jinks now.
"The Moorish Dance" (the gypsies): as written, a silly dance break that repeats what we already know, that DQ can idealize even the most venal and base aspects of human behavior. It's as if Wasserman didn't trust his audience. In terms of mood, I guess I just want more grand opera and less of music-hall comedy in my *La Mancha*s; it's just a matter of personal preference.

It's a matter of tone, and getting the tragicomic balance right is extremely difficult to do.
I felt that the Studio production of *Crimes of the Heart* overcompensated for past jokey productions by making this one too somber, missing too much of the comedy and really missing the black comedy (getting us to step outside anguished moments to realize that from another perspective, they're not heart-rending but absurd). A lot of people disagreed with me on that. Here, almost the reverse is true. Ideally, I would preferred to have seen Troy's direction minimized the slapstick, ha-ha aspects of the musical's book and favor instead, at more junctures, its darker, costs-of-idealism features. In a sense, I think Cervantes is trying to say that Dr. Carrasco-style realism and practicality has its own costs: unpoetic, unromantic, self-limiting, we're all just maggots crawling upon this muckheap of Earth (a viewpoint that Aldonza, of course, expresses and then repudiates -- because she GROWS). But similarly, as Wasserman's book goes overboard in emphasizing (because it's good for a joke), Quixote-style idealism is blind -- it selects what it wants to see. That's part of why Patrick's delivery of the "men have died in my arms" speech is so affecting and solid: it's the idealist declaring that his idealism is grounded in a gimlet-eyed view of how cruel and awful life can be.

But there's so much to admire in this show. I would listen to David Williams sing anywhere: his clear, sweet tenor voice as the Padre was quite affecting and effective in both the Act One closer, "To Each His Dulcinea" and in "The Psalm." I meant even back when I wrote my review to spend more time praising his talent.
The rape scene SEEMED to me (I'm probably wrong) to have added a couple of brief and more graphic moves; I thought it balanced moral ugliness + artistry very well. Patrick's pronoucement that the dishrag is "gossamer"; the timing of two of his and Tami's sudden face-to-face encounters; the way she clings to her missive and asks about the "quest" -- all were spine-tingling moments. In its first appearance, "Little Bird" seems to be motivated by ... what, exactly? It comes out of nowhere. BUT ... its reoccurence during the rape sequence is haunting. Troy created numerous memorable episodes like this.

I still think two or three of the performances were well short of ideal, and, as I said, I think the book is deficient in yukking it up too much. As for the Patrick > Robert Goulet line: I never saw Goulet in the part. But I associate him with phoniness and hamminess. Patrick never fell into that trap, and soared well above it. His performance, and most of this show, should be remembered with pride for years to come.

*Man of La Mancha*: opening-night review (delayed)

An idealistic old knight asks his lady for her trust and a token of her favor; the whore responds by spitting on his quest and tossing him a dishrag. This face-off between Don Quixote and Aldonza exemplifies the conflict between face-the-facts realism and imagine-it-otherwise idealism in Man of La Mancha (at Spokane Civic Theatre through June 15).
Ever the idealist, Quixote (Patrick McHenry-Kroetch) caresses the dirty towel and pronounces it “gossamer.” Those who chuckled — and there were many in the opening-night audience — were probably thinking along the lines of “deluded old fool.” But McHenry-Kroetch’s persuasive line reading conjures the power of the imagination. If we don’t keep striving to break free of the muckheap we’re stuck on, Quixote seems to ask, then what’s a life for?
And yes, he steps up and delivers on the famous anthem that everyone remembers. Somehow he manages to combine a powerful baritone with tottering movements in "The Impossible Dream," showing us Don Quixote's vulnerability and stoic endurance in the same moment. When the tempo dwindles as Quixote contemplates being “laid to my rest,” McHenry-Kroetch lingers in repose for a moment before rousing himself to continue: resolute striving embodied in the song’s action. Galloping through the title song and holding his love-longing tight in “Dulcinea,” his performance ranges — often in the space of just a few moments — from feeble to virile, from despondent to aspiring.
Director Troy Nickerson devises some effective sequences: two stylized horses that appear out of nowhere; the way that Quixote gazes longingly at his Dulcinea and pursues her across the stage during a crowd scene; later on, a stylized rape sequence that while not ugly enough, didn't shy away from ugliness and human corruption, either.
While musical director Gary Laing’s ensemble sounded thin in the overture, it propelled the self-assertion of “It is I, Don Quixote” and provided a nicely understated, guitar-strumming introduction for an “Impossible Dream” that soon after soared.
Scenic and lighting designer David Baker bathes his Spanish dungeon in golden light at some junctures, then plunges it into ominous darkness. And his menacing drop-down staircase underscores the scariness of the Spanish Inquisition.
Nickerson's production contains many fine moments — the realistic/idealistic confrontations between McHenry-Kroetch and Tami Knoell as Aldonza, full of tension; the ensemble's energy as the costumes fly out of the trunk and the play within a play gets produced inside the prison; the pathos of the final sequence (Quixote's "death" and "resurrection"); the creepy magic of the Knight of the Mirrors episode, in which Gavin Smith’s bossy realist compels Quixote to see himself, really see himself.
But the conflict of practicality and imagination, so striking in the holding up of the mirrors, seems underemphasized elsewhere: The Civic’s *La Mancha* approximates the ideal, but it’s also, at several junctures, earth-bound. For one thing, Dale Wasserman’s book of the musical is so episodic that it prolongs the evening unnecessarily. Sure, it’s possible to explain what the scene with the padre hearing confession from two women was all about. But can anyone explain how the show would be harmed if it were cut? Similarly, the second act’s gypsy fantasia has Quixote repeatedly seeing the bright side of tawdry circumstances — which we’ve seen him doing before, repeatedly. It’s filler.
Nickerson settles for a jokey approach (slapstick muleteers, that goofball Sancho) that instead of pitting idealism against humans the way they really are, poses a debate between idealism and humanity's exaggerated silliness. Take the “it’s a shaving basin”/”no, it’s a golden helmet” sequence. Here and in the earlier praising of the kitchen trollop Aldonza, Quixote’s exaggerations are received with a kind of forehead-smacking “How can he possibly see things this way?” attitude. But what’s needed instead is more in the way of how Aldonza, being repeatedly told that she isn’t worthless at all but worthwhile, gradually is converted to Quixote’s hopeful perspective. The Golden Helmet of Mambrino is both valuable and ridiculous, and Quixote’s imaginings need to be seen through both sets of lenses.
In the early going, Knoell didn't seem to be in strong voice; later on, she wasn't bitter enough in spitting at Quixote's quest and damning humankind for the crime of being born. In “I Really Like Him” and “A Little Gossip,” Gary Pierce fails to project melodies. Then he camps up Sancho Panza’s comic mannerisms so much that the sidekick seems planted on the side of the realists instead of ever coming over to his master’s idealistic point of view.

"Love not what thou art, but only what thou may become," says Don Quixote. Idealists get such a bum rap: Realists are always decrying them as impractical, when all practicality gets us is too much focus on all the things that keep us hemmed in. The tilter at windmills is like that inconvenient, bothersome voice inside all our heads that's always urging us to do better: Being quixotic can be obnoxious.
The Civic’s *Man of La Mancha* sounds and looks great. (They may have gotten a windfall of Renaissance costumes, but Susan Berger and Jan Wanless impressively built up all those slashed sleeves and floppy breeches.) In McHenry-Kroetch’s performance generally — and in the simple way Knoell renames herself, acceding to the old knight’s vision of Dulcinea — it creates some inspiring moments. A better production, however, would have demonstrated how gritty realism is merely jaded and self-limiting, and how idealism can become self-blinding. By playing up the impracticalities of Quixote's insistence on striving for a better life, Nickerson's show settles for humor when it could have contained a genuine debate.

La Mancha (very partial)

Yes, he steps up and delivers on the famous anthem that everyone remembers. Patrick McHenry-Kroetch's performance as the idealistic knight in Man of La Mancha (at the Civic through June 15) ranges from virile to feeble. Somehow in "The Impossible Dream," he manages to combine a powerful baritone with tottering movements, showing us Don Quixote's vulnerability and stoic endurance all in the same moment.
As exceptional as McHenry-Kroetch is, however, a number of factors contribute to make the Civic's production good but less than stellar. Some of it is Dale Wasserman's book, which is so episodic (especially in the first act) that most of the narrative momentum (and even coherence) is frittered away. Director Troy Nickerson settles for a jokey approach (slapstick muleteers, goofball Sancho Panza) that instead of pitting idealism against humans the way they really are, poses a debate between idealism and humanity's exaggerated silliness. In the early going as Aldonza, Tami Knoell didn't seem to be in strong voice; later on, she wasn't bitter enough in spitting at Quixote's quest and damning humankind for the crime of being born.
On the other hand, scenic and lighting designer David Baker bathes his Spanish dungeon in golden light at some junctures and has provided a menacing drop-down staircase. Nickerson directs some effective sequences: two stylized horses that appear out of nowhere; the way that Quixote gazes longingly at his Dulcinea and pursues her across the stage during a crowd scene; later on, a stylized rape sequence that while not ugly enough, didn't shy away from ugliness and human corruption, either.

"Love not what thou art, but only what thou may become," says Don Quixote. Idealists get such a bum rap: Realists are always decrying them as impractical, when all practicality gets us is too much focus on all the things that keep us hemmed in.
The tilter at windmills is like that inconvenient, bothersome voice inside all our heads that's always urging us to do better: being quixotic can be obnoxious. Nickerson's production contains many fine moments -- the realistic/idealistic faceoffs between McHenry-Kroetch and Knoell, full of tension; the ensemble's energy as the costumes fly out of the trunk and the play within a play gets produced (not too much, but not in too Spartan a fashion, either) inside the prison; the pathos of the final sequence (Quixote's "death" and "resurrection"). A better production, however, would demonstrate how gritty realism is merely jaded and self-limiting, and how idealism can become self-blinding. By playing up the impractialities of Quixote's insistence on striving for a better life, Nickerson's show settles for humor when it could have expressed a genuine debate.

(partial, draft review)

*Man of La Mancha* cast list

May 16-June 15 at Spokane Civic Theatre
directed and choreographed by Troy Nickerson
musical direction by Gary Laing

by Dale Wasserman, Mitch Lee and Joe Darion

Patrick McHenry-Kroetch as Don Quixote
Gary Pierce as Sancho Panza
Tami Knoell as Aldonza
David Gigler as Governor/Innkeeper
Gavin Smith as Duke/Dr. Carrasco
Hannah Kimball as Alonso's niece, Antonia
Heather Lee as Alonso's housekeeper
David Williams as the Padre
Benjamin Lee as the Barber
with Justin Gray, David McCarthy, Daniel McKeever, Steve Porter, Justin Roney, Amanda Rood, Mandy Shumski, Kristin Wilkinson