The circumstances surrounding this incarnation of Don Quixote are the centerpiece of the documentary Lost in La Mancha. Directed by Keith Fulton and Louis Pepe, this feature film chronicles the pre-production process and few days of filming that transpired at the start of the 21st-century for a version of Terry Gilliam's The Man Who Killed Don Quixote. It's a documentary that doesn't sugercoat anything, this is not a fluffy behind-the-scenes featurette you'd find on a DVD full of easily digestible soundbites about the filmmaking process. This is a raw motion picture that doesn't hold back in it's look at a production that seemed to be cursed from the get-go.
As Lost in La Mancha reveals, problems already seemed to be abounding during the pre-production process when director Terry Gilliam struggled to get ahold of his films lead actors, Jean Rochefort and Johnny Depp, as well as difficulties with translating his unique vision into practical effects. Those issues seem like the tiniest hang-ups compared to the problems that were yet to come once the cameras started rolling. The issues they face are seemingly endlessly, but the most prominent of their woes are Jean Rochefort's own health difficulties making it near impossible for him to ride a horse, a crucial aspect of anyone whose going to play Don Quixote while a flash flood washes away crucial equipment.
At first, watching this production go awry is akin to watching a trainwreck. You know it's terrible but you can't help but be riveted by what you're watching. You understand how devastating this must be for the cast & crew but the way all these calamities keep piling up does have darkly comic energy to it. As things go on, though, the Lost in La Mancha takes on a greater level of tragedy that renders it more bittersweet rather than an exercise in entertaining chaos. This is mostly due to the illnesses of Jean Rochefort that suddenly lend a whole new layer of danger to the proceedings. Inclement weather is one thing. Your leading man not being well enough to perform in your movie, that's a whole other thing.
The way Lost in La Mancha seamlessly segways from entertaining messiness to a more tangible bittersweet sensibility is one of its best qualities, but another one of its most intriguing traits comes from something out of its control: the element of time. Watching this now after having seen the final version of Lost in La Mancha, it's utterly fascinating to watch this footage of Gilliam and company putting together this version of The Man Who Killed Don Quixote and seeing the differences and similarities between the two incarnations of this production. For one thing, the glimpses of footage we see from this earlier take on the Don Quixote material seems to be making use of more grandiose camerawork as well as a visual appearance that totally makes it look like a film made at the dawn of the 21st-century.
On the other hand, it was stunning to see that Gilliam and his cast & crew actually did maintain some locations between the two versions of The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, most notably a glorious waterfall. Considering all the challenges chronicled through Lost in La Mancha, it's remarkable that they were able to come back years later and shoot at these exact same locations again. Life is so funny sometimes. Even ignoring how it shows the simultaneous evolution and consistency between the differing takes on The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, Lost in La Mancha is still a fascinating documentary whose unflinching gaze at this cursed production reinforces once and for all just how tough the art of filmmaking is.
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