Terry Gilliam
L'uomo che uccise Don Chisciotte

The fact is that achieving such an incandescent-absent yield certainly results from thirty years of cinematic tribulations, an unquestionable training ground to have an idea, even remotely, of what eternity means. The mise en scène as if it were an alienating theater is also the strength of the film, which bores to eternity in the right manner, mixing the past and the future especially in colors, amidst the abandon of licking Texan boots of Russian oligarchs.

And you can see Gilliam's resignation where in the "letting go" of previous experiences, he abandons the seriousness of a satire and a teasing of life that is a bit too constructed, a bit too sought-after, and where he finds sincere absence in shooting a film that for many years has eluded being filmed, where the open sesame springs from purging of will and where he captures the essence of Quijote, no longer quirky, when he invites us to start everything anew, continually. That is the straight path, the one tending to infinity.

And it is precisely of the endless that the film floats, instead of turning on the projector's reel. The eternal return of Don Quixote (with the interchangeable Panza) is the invisible divine rhythm that holds up the entire structure of existence. And the hidalgo, in his omniscient madness, is always right: the mills are ogres? He is right, just as why the raven is a writing desk. Therefore, the vampire rationality of the system is irrelevant because Don Quixote is only poetry, and it is always real because it is poetry.

The absence of conventional sense makes us brush against what that unnumbered card of the major arcana means, where only the "fool" is in God's grace, where the maya veil is "rigged," allowing visions of the real world. Thus remains the glimmer of stardust along with the ordinary dust of deserts, because the battles of the lanky knight are anything but imaginary, it's just that we, devoid of psychic sight, do not see them obscene as reality knows how to be.

On the other hand, the diet is based on rays of sunlight that illuminate the dark places of the lower astral, which with their possessions try to whisper hell on earth, but this is its part in the earthly "Comedy": "stomach" is provided by Sancho. Being amazed by the unveiled invisible is valid, the mystical emblem is the foundation to start realizing that the binary bilingualism surrounding us is not really everything we see with canonical sight, rather it is the Minima Moralia for starting to remove those blinders that "Adorn" our heads.

And here is the enormous extent of a message of faith that opens up scenarios where the philosopher, the mystic, the prophet, the charismatic, the paranormal, are all Don Quixote; where the four horsemen of the apocalypse are Don Quixote; where the crossroads of the eternal wandering of our hero is immobile in a point of permanent gravity where the direction arrows lead not outside but inside the journey; where you can feel the colors of the rainbow, and you are also part of the colors; where there is the fifth element.

Yet no longer Janus bifrons, with its limited views, but absolute Brahman with its all-pervading four faces, where peripheral vision resides that makes us understand carnally that it is the details that make the work of art, where the unexpected is at home to always feed on truth. And the opening to a latent familiar nonsense attracts us into visions that unsettle our certainties, our diplomas, where already staying to see where it will end challenges ourselves to start reckoning that there is no need necessarily to go somewhere, where the visionary spectrum has no limits. Deep down, everyone knows where the truth lies, almost no one is able to accept it.

The "jump" is subtraction that determines transcendent acquisition, the rest is La Mancha. If one suffers when giving up something external to him, there is still ego, still personal vanity. Don Quixote transports us to shores where there is no foothold and in thoughtlessness, everything happens without the deception of free will. And the presence of the squire dispels divinizations, sanctifications, and misleading ecstasies from the right path, because it is true that we are not this body, but we are here, riding a donkey.

And so Don Quixote resolves even the spiritual journey where he has transcended being an esotericist and all the symbolic trinkets that it entails. The annulment of the temporal plane also resolves the annulment of the ghost of Quixote himself, and that is why there is "forever" there.

What else to add on the sleepless perfection?:
"I wanted to reach the city to the south, of which it was said in our country: There are certain people there! Imagine, they don't sleep!
And why not?
Because they are mad.
Are madmen never tired?
How could they be tired, the mad?" (F. Kafka)