Wednesday, July 13, 2011

#20. One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975)

I’ve always joked that if you want to make an Oscar movie, all you have to do is make sure it is about mental illness or some sort of disability. While there is a good chance Milos Forman’s “One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest” may have been the first major film to test this theory, I don’t believe it deserves the scorn that should come with pioneering this phenomenon. While the film does appear to have an awards-darling agenda (profound personal awakening, tragic deaths abound, humanization of a generally discarded segment of society and a primary antagonist so unspeakably evil that they are literally willing to abuse mentally ill people being the most prominent) I don’t think it necessarily falls into my gross oversimplification the way later movies like “A Beautiful Mind” and “Rain Man” do.

The opening shots that accompany the credits sort of give the feeling of being institutionalized, as they depict vast expanses of Oregonian landscape, but are still peppered with plenty of Oregon’s legendary dreary weather. Also, the resolution of these shots is significantly grainier and blurry than the rest of the film; as if perhaps they are seen from incarcerated eyes. At first, it is unclear as to who the protagonist is going to be, since we first see Randle McMurphy (Jack Nicholson) in a very non-flattering light; an obnoxious, crude statutory rapist. McMurphy is feigning mental illness in an effort to serve a prison sentence in the much more preferable confines of an insane asylum.

My previous experience with the films of Milos Forman is basically limited to “Amadeus” and “Man on the Moon.” Two of my favorite films, but two that center on Mozart and Andy Kaufman respectively- with the main characters’ psychological eccentricities being the main thread that is sewn into the storyline. However, in “One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest” the perspective is much more complex. In the aforementioned two films, the general premise is that the central character is a misunderstood genius and everyone around him is an asshole; whereas in “Cuckoo’s Nest” the main character is, frankly, an asshole but assumes that everyone around him is the asshole. And at first glance, this isn’t a completely baseless theory.

The menagerie of human dregs surrounding McMurphy are, at first glance, the kind of people who you would assume probably belong in a home. Martini (Danny DeVito), a dwarfish sort of developmentally disabled man, Billy (Brad Doriff) a stuttering young outcast who still deathly fears his mother, Taber (Christopher Lloyd) an overgrown bully, Harding, a pretentious and slightly effeminate intellectual who blames his condition on his wife’s infidelity, Cheswick, a man-child who is very easily manipulated and enthralled by anyone who seems to remotely have their act together and Chief, an enormous mute Native American.

What is brilliant about the development of McMurphy’s character is that we are not unrealistically won over by a suddenly acquired sense of goodness or charm; instead it is McMurphy’s sense of humor that wins us over, particularly when directed at the ward’s manipulative head nurse, Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher). Her passive-aggressiveness and condescending nature are beyond maddening, particularly when it is revealed that most of the functional men in the ward are voluntarily committed. By entrusting their well being to Nurse Ratched, her abuse of power is especially heinous. McMurphy is outraged at her regimenting of the men’s lives, rationing their personal belongings and relentless badgering to express feelings they may not necessarily have.

The conflict between McMurphy and Nurse Ratched is one of the most creative and unique I’ve ever seen. I especially love the complete reversal of convention; the “good guy” is the violent criminal and the “bad guy” is the supposed Angel of Mercy. Louise Fletcher’s stone-faced demeanor through the entire film is so unique and almost frightening as she is not outwardly hostile, which is so frustrating to the viewer as well as the characters.

It is ultimately this heavy reliance on emotion that makes “Cuckoo’s Nest” a great film rather than a good film. The performances aren’t exceptionally great, Doriff is kind of unbelievably exaggerated in his stammering (though he does have one incredibly powerful scene right before his suicide where he stands up to Nurse Ratched and noticeably loses his stutter as if his act of rebellion represents a curing of his condition) most of the patients don’t have a significant amount of screen time to develop their characters and Jack Nicholson and Christopher Lloyd both play characters very similar to the ones we are used to from them.

“What do you think you are, for Christ's sake, crazy or something? Well, you're not! You're not! You're no crazier than the average asshole out walking around on the streets and that's it!” (R.P. McMurphy “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”)


The first indication that Ratched is losing control of the patients occurs when McMurphy suggests the patients be allowed to watch the World Series, which she viciously opposes as it interferes with the regiment she has set in place. After placing the matter up for a vote and losing Ratched changes the rules of the deal in order to ensure that there will be no baseball watched by the patients. Rather than taking the bait and engaging her further or even more preferrable to Ratched, accepting it, McMurphy begins to simulate the entire game in a booming announcer voice. Though he is sitting in front of a blank screen and the results are completely fictional, the other patients watch and listen as excitedly as if they were in the stands; an effect that is enhanced even further when the reflection of the screen shows the patients sitting bunched together bleacher-style and cheering.

One of the most intentionally symbolic but unintentionally ludicrous scenes in the film comes when McMurphy is able to hijack a school bus used to transport patients and sneak several of the inmates out of the hospital and on an impromptu fishing trip on the Oregon coast. It is one of the only scenes that takes place outside the hospital and is clearly meant to be representative of freedom and liberation. There is nothing less confining than the concept of the open seas, there is wind conspicuously blowing through the men’s hair and the most important part is that they all enjoy themselves and are fully conscious of the fact that they are rebelling against Nurse Ratched. While McMurphy’s defense of the other inmates has previously been paralleled a self-serving agenda, this scene represents the first time he sees them as equals and “normal” people. It is unfortunate that the sheer absurdity of the notion that McMurphy could have orchestrated escape/boat rental slightly tarnishes a very moving and significant scene.

Nurse Ratched tricks the police and the hospital chief into letting McMurphy stay in her care under the guise of concern for his rehabilitation, though she clearly intends to continue controlling him to the point of submission. However, in many ways she has already lost her battle since, from this point, the patients begin to lose respect for her and focus their attention on McMurphy. They disobey her more brazenly, object more to her rules, laugh at McMurphy’s jibes and generally begin to think for themselves. Even Chief finally admits to McMurphy that he has been faking his condition also and is perfectly cognitive. This admission forces McMurphy to the realization that an escape to Canada is immediately necessary.

As a final gesture of friendship to the other inmates, McMurphy arranges a farewell party complete with booze and women. It is the ultimate act of rebellion against Nurse Ratched, but also the ultimate act of self-sacrifice for McMurphy, as it sets into motion events that ultimate doom his character. Rather than take his free chance to escape he uses the time to show the other patients the meaning of freedom, including seeing to it Billy loses his virginity, which McMurphy firmly believes he should be out doing instead of being institutionalized. When everyone drunkenly passes out when the nursing staff arrives in the morning it is obvious that it is too late for McMurphy to escape.

If I had to pick one scene where symbolism is used to the greatest effect, it is Nurse Ratched’s arrival the morning after the party. Her beloved nurse’s cap has been knocked on the floor and dirtied sometime in the evening; she attempts to muster up dignity and put it back on but it is noticeably sullied. Her subsequent shaming of Billy to the point of suicide makes the patients see her in the same tainted, impure way- thus the defiled nurse’s cap comes to be representative of the nurse herself. Driven to inconsolable madness by Billy’s death McMurphy attacks Nurse Ratched so violently that she is almost killed and he is lobotomized.

Not willing to let McMurphy’s fate be in vain, Chief steps up as the unlikely hero, first by mercy-killing McMurphy, knowing he would not have wanted to go on that way and second by lifting a solid marble wash basin (which McMurphy unsuccessfully attempts to do himself early in the film) and throwing it through the window so he can escape. This ending, and honestly the film as a whole, are a real testament to the romanticism of film. Though McMurphy is dead, Chief has escaped into a world that has no prospects for him, Ratched keeps her job, Billy has died and most of the patients remain in the hospital, the ending somehow uplifting and inspiring, at least for a minute…

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