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6.7/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.7/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Don Quichotte remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have a high tolerance for old-school, theatrical melodrama, maybe. If you want a punchy, fast-paced adventure, you will be bored to tears within twenty minutes. This is for people who like to see how cinema looked before it really knew what it wanted to be.
G.W. Pabst was doing three versions of this at once. English, French, German. Imagine the headache. Maybe that’s why the French version feels a bit like a fever dream that didn't quite wake up. Feodor Chaliapin Sr. is massive here. Not just in presence, but in the way he fills the screen with this weird, sad energy.
He doesn't play Quixote like a joke. He plays him like a man who is genuinely tired of the real world. You can see the weight of the armor on his shoulders. It looks heavy. It looks like it actually smells like rusted metal and old hay.
The pacing is… well, it’s not exactly a sprint. There’s a scene involving a windmill that goes on for a long, long time. You’re watching the blades spin and you start to wonder if the camera operator just forgot to say cut. It’s almost hypnotizing in a boring sort of way. 😵
The squire, Sancho Panza, is played by Dorville. He’s the only one who seems to be having any fun. He’s constantly looking at the camera like he’s waiting for a paycheck. It’s a nice contrast to the high-minded tragedy happening everywhere else.
There is something about the 1930s aesthetic that makes the desert look like a cardboard box. It’s charming, in a way. You don’t get that kind of texture in modern films. Everything is too clean now. This movie feels like it has actual dust in the lens.
If you’ve seen The Fatal Sign or maybe poked around the corners of Foolish Lives, you know that era of filmmaking had a specific rhythm. It’s slow. It breathes. Sometimes it gasps for air.
Is it a masterpiece? No. Is it a curiosity? Absolutely. There’s a moment toward the end where Chaliapin just stares into the middle distance, and you forget you’re watching a movie from 1933. It’s just a man being sad about a world that doesn't exist anymore. That’s enough, I guess.
It’s not perfect. It’s barely even polished. But it’s got soul, even if that soul is trapped in a very old, very creaky suit of armor.
IMDb 6
1931
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