Review: "The Man Who Killed Don Quixote" Has A Few Moments of Brilliance Worthy of Its Subject

Jonathan Pryce

For director Terry Gilliam, the film The Man Who Killed Don Quixote has long been a quixotic task that there was a documentary made about its failure... in 2002. The film's mythic failure to ever be made properly makes the final product feel all the more like a miracle. After several false starts and financial conflicts, the film finally hit the big screen last year with a premiere at Cannes and a slow rollout internationally. While it was made, the thought of seeing it publicly was put into question due to Gilliam's bad luck. In that sense, the film is a success for even landing stateside on V.O.D. platforms. Thankfully, it's mostly an entertaining romp that pays homage to one of literature's greatest "heroes." Oddly enough, it also pays tribute to Gilliam's tendency for self-indulgence in both good and bad ways. It's more than a miracle that it got made, but it feels like another niche release from the kooky auteur.

It helps that Don Quixote (Jonathan Pryce) was always designed as a man out of time. In the original novel, he romanticized about Spanish knights from yesteryear. He wandered the countryside in a state of constant ridicule but had convictions that were sympathetic in the world of fiction. He could never be a hero because there was nothing to dream for, and yet he (as a Tony-winning musical would suggest) dreamed the impossible dream. It was quixotic (impossible), but he found a way to become a legend that transcended his plights and delusions. Gilliam arguably did the same as a director with this film. In theory, there's nothing exceptional about following a crazy man like Quixote through the Spanish prairies. However, by updating the mythology to a very 21st-century lifestyle, it is given new life in ways that other filmmaking auteurs (notably Orson Welles) failed to achieve.

His partner, his "Sancho Panza," is Toby (Adam Driver) who is making a feature-length version of his student film. The life of Quixote has consumed him for other a decade, and it all ties into this actor. He was cast in the student film but has since remained a tad insane in ways that move from convincing to sad. Toby is desperate to finish the film but finds himself drawn into the lifestyle that Quixote romanticizes. It's a credit to Pryce's performance that he's always eager to sally onto the next journey, embracing the eccentric enthusiasm of a man not the least bit concerned about public thought. Pryce's delusions are what sell the film and make it feel like something inspired. The accompanying performance by Driver is a bit more obvious, reflecting a reluctant sidekick who yells his frustrations into the vacant fields, hoping that some sense will be made of this madness. He just wants to finish the film, but his actors keep finding new crises to face.

Gilliam's obsession with the original novel shows in certain elements of the film. Whole passages are quoted throughout the film. Many scenes, including the iconic windmill fight, are reenacted in full for comic effect. So much of the film is in love with the world that Quixote existed in that it becomes this curious land just as lost to time as the titular character. It's a spiral into madness, where the idea of art and artist are no longer separate. Toby is Sancho Panza, going on a journey that is sure to get him killed. It's an absurd tale, but one that faces rough patches throughout that are a tad redundant and capture the faults of this story. Toby complains too much for the sake of comedy. Some physical comedy plays awkwardly as they are tonally disjointed. Still, the idea of making a world that is both old and new is what thrives in this film. The confusion of place and time plays into Quixote's madness and helps to get to the core of why Gilliam has wanted to make this film for decades now.

The film as a whole is very entertaining, especially if the character resonates. Pryce's performance is so charming that even the obnoxious tics that form at times are forgivable. There's so much creative exploration of Quixote's journey that it somehow resonates as a story of failing to finish a movie. It's, unfortunately, a key issue with the film. It's not that it reads as autobiographical to the filmmaker, but more that it's hard to appreciate without a grander context. Because audiences know how long it took to get to the screen, it feels like there's something impressive about every frame. It's a miracle that it ever got filmed in a comprehensive style. Beyond that, it's a fairly weak entry from Gilliam and feels a bit disappointing considering the decades it took. There were clear rewrites to update references, and the eccentric scenes feel like moments the director thought were too precious to lose. It is the stereotypical passion project in that it has fleeting glimpses of greatness that validate the project but have too much fat around the edges to be the lean magnum opus. It's funny and creative, sure. But it's far from Gilliam's best.

At his best, Gilliam plays with genres (specifically fantasy and sci-fi) and finds something more human amid the absurdity. Films like The Fisher King and Twelve Monkeys both feature characters who are larger than life but have something deeply flawed and emotional underneath. At the end of the film, there's not much to argue that Quixote or Toby is three dimensional. They have enough to work as a mismatched comedy duo, but even that feels undone by how little the scenes feel like they hold a deeper meaning. They're all absurd, mostly reflecting men drawn by a passion that never pays off. It works within the film, sure, but there's too much else going on. It's manic and rushes through beats in favor of highlighting memorable moments that Gilliam cleverly updates from the novel. As a whole, it's a fun idea and the film reaches some inspired peaks throughout, but it fails to ever maintain that energy for very long.

The Man Who Killed Don Quixote is a passion project that's more fascinating in its larger context. Without knowing that it took decades to produce, what is there really to care about? It's a subversive update on an iconic literary character. The performances are fun but sometimes fall into a pattern of feeling one note in ways that underwhelm the film. Does it work? For the most part. However, there's little here that compares to the director at his absolute best and mostly serves as an interesting look into whatever he thought this project could've been. When played alongside the 2002 documentary Lost in La Mancha, the audience gets a better sense of Gilliam as an artist. It's both fascinating and a tad disappointing that this is what that journey had. It's good enough, but for a project that consumed the man, it leaves a lot to be desired.