Southbank Theatre Company's 'Man of La Mancha' has breadth of emotional appeal and depth of stagecraft

 Far from my favorite place to see theater in Indianapolis, Shelton Auditorium may well be the proper home for Southbank Theatre's ambitious production of "Man of La Mancha." The steep pitch of its stadium setting in an expanded semicircle in straight-back pews evokes both sacred and secular traditions. Messages of import, matters for both study and meditation, are at home in such a venue. The stark beauty of the environment has to contend with compromises in comfort and perhaps even safety.

Entertainment nonetheless also claims room in Shelton, where this company is in residence. That value is upheld in the way the cast invests controlled energy in the prize-winning musical under the direction of Marcia Eppich-Harris. The peak results in Thursday's opening-night performances were those of Paul Hansen as Cervantes/Don Quixote, Jessica Hawkins as Aldonza/Dulcinea, and Anthony Nathan as Sancho Panza.

Alonso Quijana on way to real knighthood under the Golden Helmet.

The setting also thrusts forward the appeal of this adaptation of Miguel de Cervantes' sprawling classic novel, "Don Quixote." That's because the title character is presented to the audience as a figure deserving both admiration and pity. To be deluded for the sake of idealism is a hard delusion to lack sympathy for. "Man of La Mancha" maximizes that sympathy, though I would strongly encourage fans of the show to spend some time with the original work — enough to learn how thoroughly ambivalence about the knight's fantastic adventures, as well as a lot more comedy, is woven into Cervantes' wandering narrative.

The greatest achievement of Dale Wasserman's book is to frame a selection of the addled knight'sadventures within scenes of the author's actual imprisonment by the Spanish inquisition, where the inmates put him on trial to judge whether he's worthy of their respect. Thus the character Hansen plays is doubly judged, and in both cases the audience is likely to deliver a thumbs-up and go out humming, perhaps actually singing, "The Impossible Dream," the show's artfully repeated hit song.

This reminds me of another performative plea for audience approval I was part of long ago, when a popular unacademic poet called Brother Antoninus gave a reading at Harvard University, where I was a graduate student. Sometimes identified by his pre-Dominican name, William Everson gave a masterly performance in a lecture hall somewhat similar in design to Shelton Auditorium. 

Knight errant and his squire share visions of a better world.

He subtly invited the audience not only to be deeply engaged with his poetry, but also to succor him personally as he explicitly compared himself to a Christian gladiator in the Roman Colosseum, counting on a collective thumbs-up to save him. It was a superb act, drawing murmurs of sympathy, audibly swelling as the reading (really a recital from memory) proceeded. Was Brother Antoninus a sacrificial victim or a living hero? He left it for us to decide, but he seemed a successful blend of both, as are the overlapping title characters in "Man of La Mancha." 

With his piercing eyes and vivid vocal quality in speech and song, Hansen made the most of the ambiguity and the baffled reception of the knight's quest by the real world he must contend with. Suggesting a parallel with today's social-media quicksands, the provincial minor aristocrat Alonso Quijana is under the spell of  the chivalric romances he reads. The ghost of Cervantes must be nodding his head in recognition.

The alternative is reflected in the show's satirical thrusts at the narrow perspectives of everyday life, summed up in the linked trio/quartet "I'm/We're Only Thinking of Him," which was the best ensemble number on opening night. Everyday life in the world of "Don Quixote" is also mirrored by cruelty and prejudice. In the show, it takes the form of the abuse endured lifelong by Aldonza, an inn server (in more ways than one) idealized by Quixote as Dulcinea. 

The role was capably presented, with a proper excess of bitterness masking a strong wish for release, by Jessica Hawkins. She also sang "What Does He Want With Me?" as well as her second-act self-portrait, both confirming the command of the character she showed in dialogue.  A similarly well-targeted song performance linked to a full-fledged portrayal was Anthony Nathan's "I Really Like Him," Sancho's explanation of his loyalty and willingness to endure confusion and risk as the Don's squire. If it lacks a good Sancho, any production of "Man of La Mancha" would miss Cervantes' comedy entirely.

Aldonza tries to keep Muleteers at bay with bravado. 

In other solo turns, Jericho Franke had the right soft-spoken piety as the Padre, though his projection could have been better. Scott Hall turned in performances as the prison "governor" and the innkeeper filled with gusto, but his singing security wandered in "The Knight of the Woeful Countenance." The onstage accompanying band did creditable work for the most part, despite some out-of-tune bassoon playing. 

The main shortcoming of the production can be summed up by the Muleteers, who frankly need to be absolute brutes and thugs, not just a nasty gathering of work colleagues. Two combat scenes flowed acceptably but remained kind of stagy. I think the character study of Aldonza that's so essential to the show's message needs these bullies to present a representation of — lacking a better term — pure testosterone poisoning. This is a show that doesn't bother about setting its conflicts in three dimensions. The Muleteers need to have an unmixed character of cynicism, cruelty, and selfishness. 

At its heart, though, this "Man of La Mancha" has things right. That long-ago impression designed for self-justification by Brother Antoninus was properly evoked by the manipulative positivity of Don Quixote's fantastic quest in this show for the relevance and justice of an outmoded vision of life. 

[Photos: Indy Ghost Light]