A&E
Quixote-inspired play struggles to find heart
By Cesar Renero ’17
October 1, 2015
Ainhoa Amestoy’s play, Quijote. Femenino. Plural. Sanchica, princesa de Barataria, offers a new lens through which we can appreciate the paragon of Spanish literature. It aims to empower the female characters of Don Quixote by relating their stories from a female perspective, thus taking away some of the power of male characters in this traditional patriarchy.
Amestoy’s biggest creative contribution in the play, which takes almost all of its inspiration from Miguel de Cervantes, is the eponymous Sanchica, daughter of Sancho Panza, Don Quixote’s squire. In Amestoy’s version, Sanchica follows Sancho and Don Quixote through their various adventures, and provides a valuable female voice in a world filled with irascible men. In some scenes, these characters are subject to the treatment women received in the novel, and are victims of violence, rape and aggression.
While this play helps us value the advances made in women’s empowerment, it still lacks a creative luster that shines brighter than its inspiration. Clearly, it is not an easy task to take Cervantes’ characters and make something that is bigger and better. Nevertheless, the play’s action is primarily based on following each character one-by-one—each is represented on stage by a doll—until the process becomes overly repetitive. Instead of inspiring us to know more about Don Quixote, it leaves us with the same-old dogma that Don Quixote is the best, and we are not sure why.
Added to these problems was the audience’s poor comprehension of Spanish, which affected both the inherent humour of the play and the confidence of its cast: Amestoy and Lidia Navarro. Theatre is a social experience where every breath, yawn and laugh reflects the audience’s temperament, and can both propel an actor’s energy and tear them to pieces if no one laughs after a joke.
The play is a good one, as it has an interesting idea and highly polished dialogue, but lacks a soul of its own, instead borrowing one from Cervantes. It tries to pay tribute but falls into adulation. Despite the Spanish subtitles that floated above the actresses’ heads, the audience generally did not appreciate the humour and tone of the play, but I don’t blame them. To understand a foreign tongue’s humour, especially the subtly complex Cervantine humour, is not an easy task. It seems that the play needs to find its spiritual home, both creatively and physically, but its talent and potential were obvious to anyone who saw it here on Sept. 24.