In Dale Wasserman's stage adaptation of Ken Kesey's powerful novel "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest," now showing at the Kavinoky Theater through October 13th, the idea that our own mental and emotional state could be used against us is as chilling and resonant today as it was when introduced in 1962.
Milos Forman's 1975 film starring Jack Nicholson as the headstrong Randle Patrick McMurphy went on to earn the top five Academy Awards (film, actor, actress, director and screenplay), and has been the standard of every institutional drama since.
Inspired by Kesey's own experiences working in a mental ward and medical experiments with hallucinogenic drugs, discussion is made as to the scale on which we value our lives. Does a medical diagnosis, accompanied by mysterious white pills and shock therapy, dictate our role in the world? Where does the line between sanity and insanity become clear?
In "Cuckoo's Nest," this is decided by eight patients, from the now clich?(c)d disgruntled war veteran who can't seem to put his imaginary gun down, to the womanizing sweetheart who doesn't know when enough laughter is enough, occupy the ward under Nurse Ratched's callous iron fist.
Michael Karr's captivating take on McMurphy, while not as sly as Nicholson, is as easily obtainable as any actor's should be, morphing wit, charm, and mystery to the role of the outspoken rebel. Dignified foreman Dale Harding, played to perfection by area extraordinaire Paul Todaro, is just sophisticated enough as to appear the brightest, but is just as lost emotionally as mute Native American Chief Bromden, whose monologues during the interludes are strangely captivating and altogether confusing.
Playing joker's wild to McMurphy's intruding presence, it takes a few very deep conversations and reality-setting observations for Harding and group to ascend to McMurphy's unruly rebellion. Once in place, there is little that can get in the way of a few highly medicated misfits.
Comparisons to the film are obvious, since that was the first adaptation of the novel. Often flowing like a film on stage, the second act has too many scenes for the introspective emotions being played out.
The success of this production lies on the intelligently crafted direction by Thomas Martin and clever lighting design by resident designer Brian Cavanaugh. Attention should be made to the hue of outdoor light shining through the birdcage-like window, as themes contrasting to the emotion of a particular scene are brilliantly made apparent, if subtly.
UB's own Saul Elkin, Distinguished Service Professor of the Theatre Department, is humorous in his portrayal of Dr. Spivey, who also sees Nurse Ratched's treatments as slightly unnecessary. Lisa Ludwig, whose local credits are numerous in various types of roles, plays Ratched to a fault. Her face is a stone cold brutal mask of doom, capable of putting Satan in a block of ice. But her inconsistent persona fades in and out of pure evil and a really bad Ana Gasteyer impression.
There's only one other flaw, and it's unfortunately based on comparisons to previous productions and the film. What is supposed to be the climax of the physical action, a scene involving electric shock therapy, falls flat when cheap strobe effects and brief sound cues cut short ?Ae_ excuse the pun ?Ae_ an electrifying moment. The lead-up to it is useless if it doesn't leave you with haunting imagery.
Having only skimmed the surface of Kesey's poignant commentary on illness, empowerment, and ultimate freedom, the emotions and issues raised on stage are undeniable and truthful. More awareness should be made in society than simply seeing it acted out on stage or screen. But it certainly is a worthwhile starting point.
Photo: Meredith Forrest Kulwicki
