ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST
One flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest is a controversial
and potentially disturbing choice for a school production,
unless it is played with self-control, slightly subdued,
in a way that enhances its inherent, therapeutic sense of
humour. If correctly presented, the play will generate not
despair but a sense of inspiration, of admiration for its
splendid attempt to “overcome” the grinding-down
of the world. Are not ‘success’ and ‘failure’
essentially the same thing?
Cuckoo’s Nest is, alarmingly, set in the confines
of a mental hospital where “Big Nurse Ratched”
rules by means of group therapy and oppression. Into this
nest of misfits flies the ambiguous figure of Randle P McMurphy,
who has apparently deduced that it is easier to act as a
“cuckoo” rather than a jailbird or soldier.
It seems that you don’t have to be crazy to be inside
this asylum, but it helps.
When McMurphy decides that the lethargy and inertia of
the patients must not be allowed to constitute an “immovable
object”, his irresistible force collides head-on with
the totalitarian régime of Nurse Ratched. In a spectacular
sequence of related triumphs, McMurphy challenges the petrifying
ethos of the living-space, causes the dumb to speak (Chief
Bromden and Billy Bibbit), heals numbers of the sick and
is finally able to set the captive free when Bromden rips
out the water-stand. Do you see where we are going? McMurphy
himself is progressively crucified - medication, shock therapy,
surgery, suffocation. “By his stripes we are healed.”
What kind of ‘defeat’ is this?
Wynberg has been fortunate to have the services of John
Baxter as producer, a man whose personal style of presentation
so suits the type of dramatic approach suggested above.
The way that the play was done was appropriate; and that’s
what counts the most, that’s what makes the impression
and remains in the memory. This was a riveting performance.
In the first of many key decisions to be taken by the producer,
the seating in the Clegg Hall was reversed so that the audience
were facing a built-up rostrum in front of the normal electricians’
box. This box, with its wood-and-glass doorways and complex
wiring, was effectively used as the office and headquarters
of the medical staff. An added bonus was the fact that,
in order to reach their seats, the audience had to make
their way down the staircase and through the mental ward,
where a bewildering array of ‘chronics’ wandering
at random greeted us. It may seem strange to begin an acting
review by mentioning the non-speaking parts, but whether
crouching in corners, beating at the windows or catatonic
on a hospital bed, these ‘patients’ were instrumental
in creating the initial atmosphere of the play and many
of their performances were eerily authentic. Gavin Schreiber,
he of the glazed eyes and incoherent howls, came the closest
to speech. Well done also to Petar Nikolov, Neville Krige,
Tilldan Bungani, Hilary Ions, Ngqiqo Mahlutshana, Oscar
Nauhaus, Shaun Notcutt, Tara Notcutt, Lester Plant, Neil
Pretorius, Tawny Reynolds, Kathryn Robertson, Beau Steyn,
Tanya Terblanche and Grant van Wyk. The plaintive singing
of the blank-faced Jan de Waal added a note of pathos to
the play.
Randle McMurphy is a many-faceted figure, playing a multi-dimensional,
at times dysfunctional, role. The less certain we are about
him, actually, the better. When will he go too far? Etienne
Davis, accomplished actor that he is, accepted the challenge
and played the protagonist in many different keys. Most
effective of all was the wide, seemingly carefree grin,
the supportive empathy for others; but the scathing rebuke
and the passionate, smouldering, violent reprimand were
also in evidence. Davis had internalised the part to the
extent that McMurphy’s madcap deeds became credible
and mattered deeply to the audience - mission accomplished!
Commendable performance!
The play revolves around McMurphy. But his most important
foils are Nurse Ratched, Chief Bromden, Harding and Billy
Bibbit. It is in these characters that we see all that McMurphy
achieves. Most clearly of all, in this production, developments
were reflected in Mr Harding (James Dickie-Clark). The actor
provided a personal, consistent interpretation of the role,
mannered and fragile. This was a skilled performance, giving
events a depth and meaning that they might not otherwise
have achieved. Chief Bromden (Richard Wiese) underwent a
visible transformation, from a silent, introverted wreck
to a towering, upright Indian brave, equal to any challenge.
Verbal and physical characteristics were well combined in
Billy Bibbit (Angus Innes), especially in portraying his
short-lived moment of liberation. Michelle Genricks, as
Nurse Ratched, played her role with confidence and clarity,
but I assume that she is just too pleasant a personality
to have made it absolutely chilling. (This, indeed, seemed
true of all of her nurses, and also the ladies of ill repute,
played by Hannah Claassens and Kerryn Lancaster. They were
too lovely to be really wicked.) Richard Higgins drifted
in and out as the bewildered Dr Spivey; he literally didn’t
know whether he was coming or going, and rightly so. Cheswick,
Scanlon and Martini (Shaun van Doorn, Edward O’Reilly
and Richard Kinkead-Weekes) filled in as contemporary Three
Stooges, each with his own off-beat mannerisms; they brought
the madhouse to life for us. Finally in the supporting roles
we had the four male ward aides, Greg Day and Kielan Kallis
providing the requisite bad attitude and threatening physical
presence. Clearly, this was a nest to be avoided. But not
without its hope.
Clyde Broster
