One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is such a well-known story, widely studied novel, and passionately revered film, that staging an adaptation which departs from the comfortable template that many audience members will be familiar with is always an artistically risky enterprise.

This new version is a mixed success, being an undeniable showcase for seven gifted young performers, but with a script adaptation that tends to pale in comparison to the unique perspective and sharp level of detail presented in the novel, as well as to the blend of wry comedy and wrenching drama that the film achieved at its best. For this reason, Little Red's production will probably play best for those who are being newly introduced to the characters of R.P. McMurphy, Nurse Ratched, Chief Bromden and the rest of thecolourfulinhabitants of the mental institution that is the story's setting.

The style of this show comes about halfway between the Chief's often hazy and hallucinatory first-person literary narrative, and the film's relative sense of realism. The gender swapping of three patients (including the Chief), from male to female, works fine if you're prepared to accept it, but tends to add little except a slight sense of variety, and possibly a more modern-day perspective (perhaps even relieving the story of some of its potentially problematic males vs. female subtext).

Director Jamie Hibbert's program notes for this show are illuminating in a number of ways, partly because they communicate intentions and ambitions that don't always come across on the stage. In the first of a number of 'performance art'-styled pieces (to the accompaniment of loud rock songs) that punctuate the play, a newly-created prelude attempts to depict a speculative version of the events that led to the protagonist McMurphy's incarceration and commitment.

In this particular case, the action and drama come on so loud and fast and strobe-lit (without any dialogue to provide specific detail or context) that the sequence's meaning can only be reflected on in retrospect (having perused the program), rather than in the moment. At their best, however, these impressionistic interludes are a shrewd and commendable way of both adding texture to the play and hinting at events that would be difficult to stage realistically.

Accents are delivered as neutrally Aussie, presumably in an effort to convey universality, but certain specific USA-brand vernacular, such as references to World Series baseball, have been retained from the original text. If the Chief can be changed from a giant Native American to a short-statured Australian woman, why not go further and turn baseball into AFL football?

Unfortunately, the relatively short running time leaves the story (one which already suffers from a feeling of both over-familiarity and being a product of its time) lacking the true level of substance and impact that one feels it should have. On the other hand, newcomers may not feel there is anything particularly missing from the play (even with the curious omission of a major dramatic twist toward the end, one that nobody familiar with the novel or film will be able to ignore by its absence). Overall, the director's adaptation of the text wavers between being too much, too little, and just right.

Hibbert may have been determined to avoid stereotyped depictions of mental illness and institutions, but in this sense, the degree of fidelity demonstrated towards the source material, particularly its representation of electro-shock treatment and lobotomy, feels anachronistic - unless you're happy to take those scenes in question on a purely metaphorical level, where it becomes less problematic, but still somewhat awkward and ill-fitting in the context of the adaptation and the director's stated intentions for it.

On a technical level, the show is sharp and smoothly executed, while the young cast is generally strong, convincing and well-suited to their juicy roles, which they devour and digest with enthusiasm, intensity and focus. Aled McEwen, in the all-important central role of McMurphy, seems to be channeling Brad Pitt in both Twelve Monkeys and Fight Club, but while his level of physical precision and energy is commendable, McEwen's live-wire expressiveness can verge on excessive at times, making Jack Nicholson seem restrained in comparison (though this can be partly explained by the inherent nature of screen acting versus stage acting).

Nicole Laughton and Sean Conneely are both remarkably ideal and on-target as, respectively, the malevolent Ratched and stammering Bibbit, while Olivia Cirocco’s Chief provides a strong focal point during her dialogue-free stretches. Bridie Rawson's Cheswick is impressively convincing in her emotional anxiety and fragility, Claire Robertson brings a good deal of gentle comic relief to the show in her role as the playful Martini, while David Sandison is a passable though rather more reticent Harding than you may expect, however this is probably attributable to the role's relatively sketchycharacterisationat the script level.

Little Red Productions should have a strong future ahead of them, despite this reviewer's reservations. There is talent at work here, without doubt, and that makes One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest ultimately worth a trip to the Bakehouse Theatre.

Anthony Vawser