Walking away from Spingold Theater's latest production, an original adaptation of Miguel Cervantes' work "Don Quixote," my mind somersaulted in a lack of comprehension and understanding of the show. Thoroughly confused and mightily uncertain, I tried to realize the forces behind this strange production of Cervantes' greatest work.
First, I realized that Double Edge Theater troupe (DET), the group with which Spingold jointly put together this past weekend's production, is anything but a normal theater troupe. Members are said to train and perform on a 102-acre self-sustaining property called the "farm," where, in addition to acting, they learn to grow their own food and support a separated lifestyle. This is all reflected in their performances, which are often very original and modern and not always as well received as more traditional theater style. Moreover, "Don Quixote" is anything but a run of the mill story. First praised as a novel, Cervantes' story of Don Quixote, played by DET's Carlos Uriona, is the anecdote of middle aged man, who through reading of fantastic tales becomes obsessed with the extinct values of knightly errantly and chivalry. Taking up his lance and shield - a traffic sign and broom in the production - Don Quixote, knighted by a paid-off noble, goes on what he believes to be a valiant adventure, searching for glory.
After an initial failed adventure, he sets out on a second one with a somewhat befuddled laborer named Sancho Panza, played by DET actor Matthew Glassman, whom he has persuaded to accompany him as his faithful squire. In return for Panza's services, Don Quixote promises to make Panza the wealthy governor of an isle. On his horse, Rocinante - a tricycle - Don Quixote rides the roads of Spain in search of glory and grand adventure. He gives up food, shelter and comfort, all in the name of a peasant woman, Dulcinea del Toboso, whom he envisions as a princess. Along the way many people, often maliciously, but sometimes playfully, feed into Quixote's madness, giving him ridiculous quests and playing elaborate tricks on the "knight errant."

The story is therefore one of madness, and part of the lack of comprehension in DET's original production of the tale is due to their harping on this madness, and thereon the stage exploration of one man's twisted psyche. But director Stacy Klein makes it obvious that there is something brewing under the surface of every scene, and her brilliant cues are subtle and beautiful.

The effects of several scenes in a madhouse exemplify this. Being complete chaos, they show the depths to which the lead character has fallen in his mental health. However, the personifications of actors as objects are essential to the plot, as well as being awkwardly beautiful. The more personal realization that goes into the audience member after the show, the more the brilliance of the production shines through.

In Quixote's shoes, Uriona is wonderful at explaining the depths of madness and obsession into which his character has fallen. His great encounters with the rest of the cast members, especially during his hallucinogenic episodes, are inspired. In the supporting role, Glassman demonstrates a strong reality and sensitivity in response to Uriona's role, his role as the faithful squire in the most awkward mental delusions of the protagonist are both silly and intriguing.

Other memorable roles included a corrupted priest, played by Willie Teacher, and a barber played by Kevin Landis, both Brandeis graduate students. Both Landis' and Teacher's portrayal as outsiders to the story, as well as objects of reality to the play's lunacy, are awe inspiring and hilarious, especially when paired with the excellent connection that they make with the audience. At points during the show, they were both seen throughout the audience, reading analysis of the story to audience members, and making jokes offstage.

The rest of cast, made up of Brandeis' graduate actors, most of whom play multiple roles, are a shining example of Spingold's finest. So much talent erupts on the stage that it is often difficult, though probably planned, to keep track of every exchange that goes on during a scene.
The show never breaks; move actors and props on and off the Laurie Theater's sculpted stage with lucid and astounding grace. The prop usage is clever and uncontrived in its symbolism. In one scene, a rolling cage is made into a prison - of both physical and mental ramifications - and is also used as a podium for actress Jennifer Lafluer to proclaim that she is a princess of a lost land.

The symbolism of the show is infinite, where every prop and every action relates to the main character's madness in one way or another. Very often during show women turned out to be men in feminine clothing, making for hilarious scenes and clever exchanges of wit between the audience and the actors.

It can't be said that last week's production was for everyone. Most of the audience left with glazed expressions of doubt. But the more one can delve into his own perception of the play and the story, the clearer and more pristine DET's adaptation seems.