Inspired by the first modern novel, Don Quixote (is a very big book) is a surreal and comic one-man adventure from puppeteer and clown extraordinaire Dik Downey making his Fringe debut age 63. We sat down with Dik to discuss his upcoming performance.
Don Quixote is often read as a story about delusion, but your version seems much more interested in persistence. Did the character’s refusal to surrender to reality start to feel personal as you approached this show?
Don Quixote embarks on a seemingly impossible quest, but his self-belief and desire to succeed drive him onwards, against all odds; which is somewhat like making theatre at the moment. There were definitely times when I thought “why the hell am I taking this on?”, but I knew it would be worth the effort. The more I dug into the book, the more I could relate to his story – both the persistence and the delusion. I have been performing for 45 years, 38 of which has been literally playing with dolls. There’s no better example of refusing to surrender to reality than that!
There is something beautifully absurd about making your Fringe debut at 63 with a show about ageing, failure and impossible ambition. Did that timing make the project feel riskier or strangely liberating?
Firstly, 63 is only old from “a youngish perspective”! From my point of view, I’ve finally reached the point where I know what I’m doing. Whilst I’ve performed at festivals all over the world, The Fringe always seemed like somewhere everyone else played. I was put off by tales of financial risk and the idea of fighting for attention amongst loads of other desperate artists. I now feel like what have I got to lose (apart from my savings, my knees and my dignity)? The show is fairly new, but it’s had great reactions in Norway, Sweden, Spain and Bristol, so I’m (perhaps delusionally) confident it will do ok in Edinburgh. It’s a very physical show, so I’m excited to see how it evolves over 24 performances and how my body holds out!
Puppetry and clowning both sit in that fascinating space between comedy and melancholy. What can a puppet express about ageing or dignity that a human performer sometimes cannot?
It’s hard to answer this without sounding like a bit of a knob, but I’m quite evangelical when it comes to the power of puppets. They are ensconced in our psyche, opening a door to our childhood, freeing our imaginations and a sense of play. Puppets can be funny, sinister, hilarious, heroic, sly – or can break your heart with just a tilt of the head. They allow the audience to project their own experiences and emotions and actively will them into existence. The fragility and scale of a puppet – as well as its dependence on the puppeteer – helps to express vulnerability in a way an adult human performer cannot. Thankfully I’m not yet quite as decrepit as my Rocinante puppet in the show, though may be by the end of August. As for clowns, who doesn’t love a clown?!
The show appears to balance slapstick chaos with something genuinely poignant underneath. Are you interested in how comedy can smuggle vulnerability past an audience’s defences?
Yes. In a way, this is Opposable Thumb Theatre’s raison d’etre, modus operandum, USP and calling card! All our shows shamelessly exploit this truth. At face value, Coulrophobia, Big Boys Don’t Cry and Don Quixote… are madcap, anarchic clown/puppet shows, but all tackle deeper emotional content, taking audiences by surprise and even – on a good night – moving them to tears. I personally love leaving a show feeling a bit emotionally battered, but with a grin on my face.
You have had an extraordinary career full of strange encounters, accidents and near disasters. Do you think performers who spend decades on the fringes of theatre develop a different relationship to failure than mainstream actors do?
Having never been a mainstream actor (apart from a brief ‘cameo’ in the film Brazil) it’s hard to say but starting out as a street performer in the 80s was the best possible education in dealing with all of the above, and more! It certainly taught me humility, resilience and how to win over an audience. Failure is an important part of any creative life – you just try not to take it personally and keep going. Don Quixote is a story of failure, redemption and blind optimism, which – fortunately for me – both reflects my life as a performer and makes for a good show.
Don Quixote is obsessed with the gap between how the world sees a person and how they see themselves. As a performer still chasing “the best show of his life” after 45 years, does that tension resonate more strongly now than when you were younger?
When I was young, I naively assumed everything was going to be brilliant. For some reason Don Quixote has never lost that belief, even in old age, and is oblivious to other people’s perspective, which is what makes him so fascinating and tragic. Sadly, I am slightly more realistic but making this show is partly about trying to tap into his crazy and beautiful self-belief and challenge my inner-critic. After 45 years in the business, it’s a now-or-never moment to hit the big-time, or at least go out with a bang (in a suit of armour)!
Don Quixote (is a very big book)is atPleasance Dome (King Dome) from 5 August to 31 August at 15.25. Tickets: https://www.pleasance.co.uk/event/don-quixote-very-big-book