Movie Review: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

by Kathryn Dawson

 

Milos Forman’s film, “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” investigates life at insane asylums by pitting sane patient R.P. McMurphy (Jack Nicholson) against the stoic Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher). Because I’d heard references to this movie but never seen it, I decided to stream it on Netflix.

Although I’m not an expert on mental illness, the main characters came off as silly and childish rather than ill. Billy (Brad Dourif) has no impairment other than a stutter, which goes away occasionally when he feels empowered. Cheswick (Sydney Lassick) is simply childish and prone to tantrums. While Martini (Danny DeVito) and Harding (William Redfield) are diagnosed with more serious disorders, being delusional and paranoid, they act like they are doing a slapstick comedy for children.

McMurphy’s character is well played and effective, though not very relatable. He comes to the ward to avoid imprisonment for statutory rape, but immediately chafes under Nurse Ratched’s strict rule. McMurphy’s role is effective because Nicholson exudes energy and aggression, in stark contrast to the other silent, robotic patients. McMurphy barges into the ward, stirs up the patients, and brings them from meek and compliant to self-assured and demanding. They are delighted to see McMurphy flout authority and begin following him, much to the anger of Nurse Ratched. 

The movie works when it focuses on its theme: the impact of the individual. It’s about fighting authority and conformity, but a few times it strays into the realm of clichés and predictability. Maybe I’m too young and Disney-movie-jaded to realize that in DATE, this wasn’t as predictable. Or maybe I shouldn’t be judging an individualist movie for deviating from an imposed purpose. Nonetheless, “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” is less enjoyable when I can tell the director is searching for a dramatic resolution over an appropriate and realistic one.

The fishing scene, when McCarthy breaks everyone out of the hospital to go fishing, is a perfect example of this. It is out-of-sync with the rest of the movie, and despite being often heralded as one of the great moments in “Cuckoo,” I think it falls flat.  It’s the only scene at a set other than the hospital, and it was intended to recapture the trippy, out-there sections of Ken Kesey’s novel One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. However, it felt dull and forced. It might have been a result of the cinematography, not the plot, but this scene was abominably predictable. When McMurphy spots an idling bus full of his best crazy pals, guess what? He gets in and drives away. And when he takes them fishing, guess what? Things get silly (after all, these are mental patients) before everyone learns a big happy lesson: We’re all people, no matter how we’re mentally classified. But ironically, this scene demeans each individual by making them superficial. They lose an element of realness, a fatal flaw, and blend together into a mass of comically ridiculous people.

Another questionable scene is Billy’s suicide. After Nurse Ratched catches him with Candy and threatens to tell his mother, Billy begins punching himself and has to be removed. While waiting in the doctor’s office, Billy cuts himself with glass. I think I can safely assume, despite lacking a psychiatric degree, that Billy had not been mentally unstable (and if that assumption is incorrect, I blame the movie for not clarifying that). Knowing he could walk out of the hospital of his own volition, why would he kill himself rather than face his mother? The movie, whose merit originally lay in its honest simplicity, is trying to force a message. It’s no longer “be upset at the realistic, depressing condition of the patients but admire their growing spunk,” it’s become “individual vs. authority. Get it? GET IT?”

My favorite seen is the World Series scene, where McMurphy pretends to watch the game on a blank television set. For me, this changed McMurphy from an annoying loudmouth to a creative entertainer, which actually implies a bigger difference. Once McMurphy calls the game for the other patients, he’s no longer doing everything for himself. As a viewer, I could easily dismiss his arguments with Nurse Ratched because he was doing everything for himself. This scene showed that he cared about making his point for the sake of the patients as well as himself.

In another great scene, McMurphy organizes an impromptu basketball game. It’s the in-hospital equivalent of the fishing trip scene, without the sense of watching a whimsical Disney movie. The patients play against the ward monitors, in a comical rivalry that helps more fully define all of the characters. McMurphy draw the Chief out of his shell, getting a step closer to him speaking.

The music, written by Jack Nitzshe, was subdued and haunting. For most of the movie, the music is quiet and unnoticeable, but it comes to the forefront when McMurphy argues with Nurse Ratched over the volume of the music in the ward. The music re-enters the viewer’s notice during the last scene, as Chief suffocates McMurphy because he’s been lobotomized. It’s effective, heightening the drama of the scene as the music’s intensity increases while the Chief breaks out.

The main problem with this movie is that it’s hovering between comedy and drama. Perhaps that’s why McMurphy’s death isn’t a very emotional moment. By all rights, it should be. We’re watching the protagonist die physically after he’s been lobotomized, contrary to his every belief, and has died emotionally. Many scenes are serious; we are, after all, dealing with themes of individual power, unfair oppressors, and poor treatment of the mentally ill. But they become unexpectedly lighthearted, if not to us, then at least to McMurphy. This left me emotionally detached because I was unsure whether to laugh or frown. And without emotional involvement, it’s just not an interesting movie.