Digginâ the impossible scene

Metro theater a treat in memorable ÎMan of La Manchaâ

By Ricardo Baca
The Metropolitan

Many people have a special memory of the musical Man of La Mancha.

Some love the music. Others use Don Quixoteâs lofty attitude as a metaphor for extracting the most out of life. And the windmill scene ÷ who could forget that?

But all biases aside, none of this is obtainable if the onstage and offstage chemistry isnât.

A successful and valiant effort, Metroâs production of La Mancha grasps the right chemicals in timely and well-acted fashion.

Thus, we are taken directly into a Spanish dungeon prison, where Miguel De Cervantes and his servant have been sent to await their upcoming trial before the Inquisition.

Being the new kids on the cell block, they are scrutinized and forced to undergo their own trial before their fellow prisoners. So Cervantes, a poetic actor, defends himself in the form of a tale: the yarn of Don Quixote, an errant knight out to right the worldâs wrongs with acts of chivalry and courage.

Cervantes coaxes prisoners to take part and act out his characters, while his Quixote clumsily trips through his farcical adventures. His servant plays Sancho, the allegiant and comical sidekick who anchors his light-headed boss, bringing him back down to earth at times.

In search of a woman to dedicate his victories to, Quixote and Sancho encounter a windmill, which the knight sees as a monster and charges it. Battered and bruised from the battle, they then find an inn, or a supposed castle, and Quixote immediately falls in love with the village prostitute, Aldonza, and properly renames her the pure Dulcinea.

Cervantesâ classic story is timeless and can intrigue any audience. But the not-all-there Quixote is a tough character to capture, yet very simple to butcher. Therefore, one miscast male in this integral role will botch the entire production.

Hence, an interjection about the casting: many props to La Mancha director and Metro theater Professor Marilyn Hetzel, who put together a tight, talented cast  ÷ including Jamie Menard.

He collars the essence of each Cervantes and Quixote with his smooth passages and quirky idiosyncrasies. Sure, his character

Itâs almost as if Metro is suffering from a lack of tenors and sopranos. The lead and ensemble pieces lack the power the upper octaves often bring.

The supporting cast does something unusual for a college production: they actually support the action and move it forward. Their interested looks are genuine and their sense of ensemble is sincere, complimenting their well-directed energy.

Joaquin Liebertâs overdramatic, all-grins Sancho is lovably animated and makes you want to make spoons with your best friend, but he is trying too hard to be droll. His emphatic, hard-to-understand line delivery might actually leave behind or edge out a couple of laughs.

And all of this happened in scenic designer and Metro theater Professor David Kottenstetteâs dungeon. A tapestry of dirty fall colors flooded the floor, leading to the base of the intimidating, 16-foot stone walls.

His final product honestly makes me rethink my limited view: You can only do so much with a black box theater.

The only drawback: characters are obviously having to crouch down when exiting the upper stage left corner. A lighting beam is the obstacle, and a window placed too close to the corner gives the audience a great view of the players awkwardly stooping.

Sadly enough, one of the showâs most playful and hummable songs, ãIâm Only Thinkinâ of Him,ä is tainted by boring staging and off-beat and off-pitch singing.

But a potent song, ãGolden Helmet of Mambrino,ä was very powerful with strong harmonies and perfect timing ÷ only to be intensified by forceful lights.

The lighting grid is impressive throughout the production. The mood lighting fits the stageâs attitude with simplicity and exactness.

However, the playersâ blocking often carries them out of the gridâs defined reach while theyâre still involved in the scene. This is very bad as they are unintentionally lost in blackness at pivotal moments.

Also lost in shadows were characters wearing hats. Intentional or not, it was distracting and a bother to not be able to see  the playersâ faces.

Another strong element was the choreography. From the fun-loving dancing horses to the dark, vigorous rape scene, the choreography was carried out exceptionally.

Hetzelâs direction is the tie that binds the production together.

The most impressive part of the evening is the cooperation that, in turn, created placid transitions, scene changes and a natural sense of togetherness. A smooth scene transition is everything but easy, but Hetzelâs honest, effortless approach to blocking and staging made them unnoticeable.