Man Of La Mancha

Critiqued by Holly Bartges

August 4, 2008

At last, someone got it right. And it took PHAMALY to accomplish it.

PHAMALY? The Physically Handicapped Actors and Musical Artists League, celebrates their 20th anniversary with Man of La Mancha currently playing at the Bonfils Space Theatre in the DPCA.  20 years ago they couldn’t have produced it and pulled it off. Not even 10 years ago, much less two or three. Each year PHAMALY’S productions grow bigger, deeper, stronger, more competitive, more professional, and more awesome.  This year, under the direction of Steve Wilson, the inspired Cervantes inspired, reaching from somewhere in the Universe whispering, “believe in the impossible dream”, and they did. Herein lies a production of Man of La Mancha no one ever dared before to dream.

L-R: Jeremy Palmer as Sancho and Leonard E. Barrett, Jr. as Cervantes Photo Credit: Todd Debrecini

Miss this production and you do yourself a major disservice. Period.

Wilson’s visionary creative mind brought Man of La Mancha to life like no one ever thought possible.  Entertain, we must. Offend, never. The Muleteers (Devin Vogal Woodall, Leslie Rusher, Samantha Barrasso, and Kevin Ahl) who inhabit The Inn Quixote thinks is a castle, are not nice people. They are not cute actors dancing up a storm.  Well, in reality they are good looking actors, but not in their Muleteer personas, and Muleteer scrubby costumes. Not one of them would you want to invite to your house for dinner. They are raunchy, vulgar, drunken lecherous slobs. Ok, if they can be honest, so can I. They are just plain horny. In every other Man of La Mancha I have seen or heard about, the Muleteers have been washed out and watered down. Nobody wants to offend anyone. Their dance can startle, amuse, and bring the jaw to ground level, alluding to whom they are, careful not to get too graphic.  Choreographers, Debbie Stark and Cindy Bray said, “not this time.”

Regan Linton takes Aldonza, the Inn’s barmaid for her own ride. This is not a sweet barmaid, slapping off lecherous hands with a gorgeous voice. This Aldonza flies her anger in a deep-throated voice having to survive a hard-pressed life. She has nothing to look forward to, and has no reason to think happiness will come her way. She’s hard, cold. Don’t call her pretty. She isn’t. Her hair hasn’t been brushed in a long while. Why bother? She works in a scrubby place, so scrubby she is.

Along comes a strange man, calling the raunchy Inn a castle, calling himself a knight, looking at her the way no one ever has, calling her Dulcinea, placing her on a pedestal, and singing beautiful words to her. Her anger flies into his face, but even that doesn’t faze him. Linton gives a believable transformation to Aldonza as she slowly tentatively reaches for a truth she’s never known that takes the breath away.

And this strange man? None other than Don Quixote who also happens to be Alonso Quijana, an old man who after reading tons of books on chivalry, rattled himself over injustice has lost his mind. Envisioning himself as the knight, Don Quixote, he sets out to right all the wrongs of the world.  So what he confuses a windmill for a monster or transposes a castle onto the foundation of an Inn, or transforms a raunchy angry barmaid into the girl of his dreams? He knows what he is doing without knowing what he is doing.

Leonard E. Barrett, Jr doesn’t just play Don Quixote, with his rich voice, which he could easily do without batting an eye, he lives Cervantes, lives Alonzo, lives Quixote giving an emotional depth and spiritual strength rarely seen in Man of La Mancha. The first time Quixote struggles to sing The Impossible Dream, it does not come easy. He struggles to find the notes and anguishes to believe the words. When he does, power stands up and talks, singing as though his life depends upon it, which for Cervantes it does.

Leonard E. Barrett, Jr. as Don Quixote Photo Credit: Michael Ensminger

The point behind Alonzo becoming Don Quixote? Miguel Cervantes, a novelist, playwright, and poet upset the powers that be behind the Spanish Inquisition toward the end of the 16th Century, and finds himself in a stone prison vault along with numerous other poor slobs who dared to offend the Catholic Church.  They may be there for a couple hours, a few days, for the rest of their lives, or may even lose their heads. Hope doesn’t live in that vault. They wrap themselves in cold despair.

The one calling himself Governor, (Chaz Jacobson) informs him he could get a break through the residence as jury if he can defend himself. Cervantes defends himself the only way he knows how, through a story embarking on the adventures of the “mad” knight.

Jeremy Palmer, playing Cervantes' Manservant, finds himself in the role of Sancho Panza. Whoa! Palmer, a slight, tall, blond handsome young man playing Sancho? This character has always been played by ------. Whoa! Again. In the stone vaulted prison, open auditions aren’t exactly an option; Cervantes has to work with what he has.  Who else but his Manservant, who just happens to be tall, slight, blond, and handsome would solicit to play Quixote’s sidekick? Often played with a comedic flair, Palmer plays to the humor, giving Sancho a more human, honest appeal. When Aldonza’s curiosity gets the best of her, she approaches Sancho asking, “Why do you follow him?” This Sancho doesn’t immediately go for the comedic. He can’t speak. Even his answer embarrasses him. Well, he likes him giving the song I Really Like Him an added depth. He doesn’t have to follow Quixote for any profound reason. He doesn’t have to give an intellectual treatise. He doesn’t have to become a comic hero.  He doesn’t have to   become defensive. He doesn’t have to go into an emotional Blah-Blah. He simply likes him. He may be tall, slight, blond, and handsome, but Palmer brings balanced honest humor and loyalty to Sancho, and because of that he goes to the front of the line for Sancho interpretation.

Music director Donna Debreceni sets the tone before the first note is struck with her unique magical connection to the story of song along with her brilliant musicians, Austin Hein, bass; Scott Alan Smith, guitar; and Larry Ziehl. If you are not in a hurry to leave the theatre after the show, you could be given a bonus if Debreceni and her band cut loose with a jam of their own.

Linda Morkin’s costume design heralds the impact of the characters trapped in a stone cold prison in Spain, filling the imagination of Don Quixote, at the same time giving respect to the artists creating them.

Stephen D.  Mazzeno’s lighting design becomes a living breathing character all on its own underscoring the vicious attack by the Muleteers, the taunting, teasing and rape of Aldonza, prison despair, the humor and pathos of Quixote fighting a windmill, and the gentleness of Sancho’s loyalty.

Geoff Kent’s fight choreography gives the illusion something happens that really doesn’t, knowing his artistic talent exercises incredible moves.

67 individuals are unsung heroes. Without them, this production would never have gotten a first read: the Volunteers working with the artists. They drive, dress, apply make-up, and assist them to the stage entrance, and whatever, however, whenever their help is needed. On closing night, each one should be given a dozen red roses while Debreceni and her musicians jam just for them. OK, 67 dozen red roses might knock the budget out of control. One red rose speaks loudly. Without them, there would be no PHAMALY.  Too many to name, but right here, right now, wherever you are, take a bow, smile, and know you are greatly appreciated.

Playful calamity takes place between the Innkeeper (Mark Dissette) and his wife Maria, (Jodie Hogle) when this weird man claims the Inn a castle. Maria knows instantly the man is nuts. The Innkeeper however discovers his own surprise intrigued to play along. Their prattled disagreement sends smiles romping around the theatre.

This time, for real, Quixote and Sancho have horses to ride giving a grand moment of humor and delight when they set off on their journey, actually getting on their mounts, to right all the wrongs of the world. No one ever said horses couldn’t have wheels or wear tap shoes. In the midst of a truthful story, appears a moment of sheer, utter, happy delight.

Daniel Traylor’s Anselmo grabs the breath with his sharp jabbing chorographical moves while the taunting Muleteers let loose of their unbridled terror onto Aldonza.

Along with its foibles and mad “knightness” in a world where knights haven’t existed for 300 hundred years, an old, sick man dreams of a world where justice lives, where people who are different, clinging to different beliefs can live side by side, learning from each other, appreciating each other, celebrating each other. If any one group can climb into this world with a wealth of comprehension, it is PHAMALY. They know all about being different and being perceived differently. Some are blind (can’t tell that on stage can you?), some deaf, some struggle with brain injuries, heart defects, MS (multiple sclerosis), Muscular Dystrophy, spinal injuries, and cerebral palsy to name a few.

Regan Linton as Aldonzo/Dulcinea Photo Credit: Michael Ensminger

A host of inconveniences allow them to stand out and stand apart, at the same time wearing a huge breastplate of enormous artistic talent. Most of the cast works full time, or attends school, or does both. Can you imagine the dedication it takes for them to work all day, attend classes, attend physical therapy, and meet rehearsal deadlines to produce a show with the high quality of Man of La Mancha? They knock me out for who they are, what they contend with, their spirit, their artistic gift, their eagerness, their willingness to stand up and be counted, no longer wanting to remain in the background where so much of society still wants them to be, to come before society’s inquisition to be seen, be heard, be known, loved and appreciated. They give, they teach; they accept, and they learn.

Above and beyond, they are artists wanting to be known as artists without any prequalification. No wonder they identify with Man of La Mancha. No wonder they can give something extra special to this grand show known for its strengthening songs, humor, and wonderment, about a silly old man who gets whipped by a windmill. And yet through the eyes of Cervantes who lived through Spain’s misguided assumption that everyone needed to believe in the auspices of the Roman Catholic Church or else, and through the powerful eyes of PHAMALY, Man of La Mancha becomes an entirely different entity with an entirely different story speaking eyeball to eyeball to our place and time where justice sometimes gets lost on its own turf, where politics becomes more important than human need, where all too many innocents languish in prison because hot shot lawyers speak eloquently running ram shod over justice, because greed soaked up the economy leaving families gagging for jobs to feed and clothe families, where parents lie awake at night fearful a child  gets sick and there is no insurance, making themselves sick with no place to go and no one to go to.

Cervantes gives a slice of hope to the hopeless in the stone cold hopeless prison, as witnessed when he is led down the stairs to stand before the Inquisition. Slowly, tentatively Linton who so gloriously played Aldonza slowly believing in Dulcinea encourages the inmates of the cold stone prison to hope with the words of The Impossible Dream. One by one the inmates join in, and the blood curdles because there is an impossible dream-to-dream if we but dare.

And it took PHAMALY to stand this beloved musical on its head.

PHAMALY’S Man of La Mancha is not a show to be missed under any circumstances. Call now for reservations. No, not tomorrow. Now. And you will see what the impossible dream means to a stone cold prison in 16th Century Spain, what it means to PHAMALY, what it means to the here and now, which is, after all, the point.

Man of La Mancha
Inspired by Miguel de Cervantes’ Don Quixote
Book by Dale Wasserman; Music by Mitch Leigh; Lyrics by Joe Darion; Directed by Steve Wilson; Music Direction by Donna Debreceni; choreograph by Debbie Stark & Cindy Bray
PHAMALY: The Physically Handicapped Actors and Musical Artists League