Lookingglass Theatre has a wondrous, decades-long track record of merging circus arts with all-consuming dramas: The Tony-winning company dazzled by weaving acrobatic and aerial acts into adaptations of Franz Kafka’s “Metamorphosis” (2000), Herman Melville’s “Moby Dick” (2015) as well as wholly original pieces like “Hephaestus” (2005), a fiery ode to the Greek god of the forge, and “Lookingglass Alice,” a thrilling take on Lewis Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland” (2005) that has been remounted in productions across the country.
Alas, Lookingglass’ latest entry to the stunts-and-a-show genre falls flat. After a “pause” in operations that began in 2023, Lookingglass, in a production in association with Actors Gymnasium, reopened its doors this week with “Circus Quixote,” running through March 30 at the Streeterville theater. Penned by David Catlin (who also directs) and his wife Kerry Catlin, with circus acts by Sylvia Hernandez-DiStasi, “Lookingglas Quixote” is a muddled, repetitive slog of a tale defined by sitcom-style buffoonery, largely forgettable circus acts and shrill, cartoonish characters.
The Catlins took their inspiration from Miguel de Cervantes’ 16th century tale of imagination and adventure set against the brutal backdrop of the Spanish Inquisition. As in Cervantes’ original novel, Lookingglass’ “Don Quixote” is centered on Alonso Quijano, a fellow so enamored with chivalric romances that he comes to believe he is Don Quixote, noble knight of the realm, pledged to slaying dragons and saving damsels in distress.
Cervantes’ original is by turns funny and tragic, as well as a bitingly subversive take on the lethal perils and gross injustices of politically-empowered, religious tyranny.
But where Cervantes’ work is smart, suspenseful, playful and pointed, “Lookingglass Quixote” is over-the-top, sophomoric and largely incoherent. Under Catlin’s direction, the ensemble doesn’t act so much as it makes faces throughout. The plot doesn’t progress so much as it sputters. Don Quixote’s epic adventures — vast, intricate metaphors for fighting the powers of oppression — are reduced to pratfalls, spit-takes and grating nonsense.
In all, “Lookingglass Quixote” plays like a series of subpar “Laugh-In” sketches, complete with a cast that milks the audience for applause with all the subtlety of a blinking, neon “applause” sign.
The plot begins with Don Quijano (Michel Rodriguez Cintra, who also plays Don Quixote). Quijano is addicted to reading hero-filled romances, so much so that he believes he is Don Quixote, the fabled wandering knight. . Urged on by Cervantes himself and Quixote sidekick Sancho Panza (both played by Eduardo Martinez), Quijano’s household staff reluctantly feed into the fantasy, taking on roles and acting out quests. And so, a meandering, picaresque adaptation winds through Quixote’s encounters with serpent queens, malevolent mirrors, memory-altering forests, and dragons in the form of windmills.
The plot’s lack of an arc — or even a gentle rise — isn’t the biggest problem here. That dubious distinction goes to the show’s overall aesthetic: Unrelentingly inane camp, and a circus dominated by Three Stooges-esque clowning.
Further, the circus acts and puppetry punctuating the splattering narrative mostly fail to astound and rarely further the plot or deepen the characters. A small monkey puppet is overwhelmed by the two puppeteers manipulating it. A stilted, faceless creature is impressively tall, but that’s about it. A fight wherein Quixote massacres a bunch of pillows he believes are sheep feels like a sloppy, non-sequitur of a hallucination.
As Quijano’s housekeeper Aldonza/Don Quixote’s beloved Dulcinea, Laura Murillo Hart rises like a gleaming moon for an aerial hoop act. But the act is short and sedate — neither qualities that make for a sensational circus interlude. A dramatically curvy rocking chair seems to indicate dare-devil feats of balance are in the offing. They aren’t; the chair just rocks really well.
There are two aerial acts that impress. Ayana Strutz and Julian Hester deliver a graceful routine on straps hanging from the fly space, their limbs twining and spinning with mesmeric grace. Cintra and Micah Figueroa (who plays Quixote alter-egos Sansón Carrasco and Amadís de Gaula among others) have a captivating number that sees them leaping and dancing on vertical poles that twist and dangle above the stage.
But these delightful scenes are few and far between, and buried in a series of repetitive swordplay and fisticuffs. The one truly impressive element in “Circus Quixote” is Courtney O’Neill’s magnificent set, which features thousands upon thousands of books sculpted into a massive wall backing the stage, massive windmill blades slowly spinning over the surface. It’s glorious to behold, but it can’t make up for a substandard adaptation.