This is an authorized reprint of a hardcover edition published by The. Viking Press, Inc. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. Ken Kesey. Ken Kesey's One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest (Bloom's Modern Critical Interpretations). Read more · One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest: A Play in Two Acts. ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST BY DALE WASSERMAN FROM TIIE NOVEL BY KEN KESEY Produced by David Merrick and Edward Lewis in.
|Language:||English, Spanish, Indonesian|
|Distribution:||Free* [*Register to download]|
One Flew Over. The Cuckoo's Nest. A PLAY IN TWO ACTS by Dale Wasserman. From the Novel by. Ken Kesey. A SAMUEL FRENCH ACTING EDITION. Medical Classics: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Article (PDF Available) in BMJ Clinical Research () · March with 10, Reads. 𝗣𝗗𝗙 | The paper analyzes violence, uncertainty, and safety with the help novel “One Flew over the Cuckoo´s Nest,” successfully adapted as.
He insisted on receiving the same treatment as everyone else. He was always prepared for his scenes and had a clear idea of what he wanted. His sense of humour put everyone at ease, which is always a great asset on a set. He helped the people around him because he knew that the better their performances were, the better he would look in the end.
Discovering Nurse Ratched in the prim, angelic Louise Fletcher surprised me, but the more I thought about it, the more it made me sense. You can download the PDF version here. Despite his far-reaching influence, Kesey was shut out by filmmakers who turned the story into an Oscar-sweeping phenomenon. Sherman Alexie debunks the myth of the silent Indian; Studio visit Oregon State Hospital, where the director played himself on screen; a psychiatrist explains how the movie gave mental hospitals a bad name, with tragic consequences; and actress Louise Fletcher takes us into the mind of one of the most fearsome movie villains, the sweet-faced Nurse Ratched.
Who does? Courtesy of Studio At that time I was only working on documentaries, commercials, industrials. On Hearts and Minds, the producer Bert Schneider insisted on hiring a sound editor—which scandalized me. I had always done my own sound. So, I cut my own sound for the mix and I went in with my 16 mm soundtracks and he had like of 35mm magnetic sound that would combine and make the sound of B52s flying—while I had the real sound. Within 10 minutes I realized that he knew what he was doing.
That was that. I surrendered. I was so excited. Milos Forman was my favorite director. I loved the book. I loved everything about it. So, I worked cheap. BTW: I practically paid to work on the film! How do you best handle the relationship between Director and Editor when disagreements arise? Do you think editing has changed for the better? There are dailly more producers on a film, studio executives multiply geometrically, and they each want to be heard. And, sometimes battles begin and often the final cut becomes the product of whoever has the most power, often not the best version of the film.
Same thing. I see Mr. Harding has also stated that his wife's ample bosom gives him a feeling of inferiority. So why does he marry a broad with such big knockers to begin with? I'll bet he's got a mother fixation. I'll bet he was never weaned. That's not so! I wanted a womanly woman. His hands wave. Referring to notes. She has commented, Dale, that she finds you less than masculine.
Yeah, like the way you use your hands. How about it, Harding? You chose a woman who was quite obviously your inferior. Don't you find significance in that? Yes, of course, but I theorized You're always saying she's such a guh-good lay. Yeah, what happens in the sack? Say, Harding, wouldn't it be a lot easier if you was to just come and admit you're a faggot?
Up out of his chair with a roar. Awright, knock it off! Leave the guy alone! Sit down. Lissen, buddy, you don't hafta take this shit! Closing the Log Book with a "Splat! Close it until discipline has improved. His cheeks are knotted and he hums a shapeless tune. Say, buddy, is this the way these leetle meetings usually go? Bunch of chickens at a peckin' party?
Pecking party? I haven't the faintest notion what you're talking about. Why, I'll just explain it. The flock gets sight of a speck of blood on some chicken and they all go to peckin' at it, see?
Till there's nothin' left but blood and bones and feathers. But usually a couple of the flock gets spotted in the fracas, then it's their tum.
Lacing his hands together, forcing himself to be casual. A pecking party. That certainly is a pleasant analogy, my friend. That's right, my friend. And that's exactly what that meeting reminded me of. And that makes me the chicken with the spot of blood, eh, friend? That's right, friend. And you want to know who pecks the first peck? It's that 01' nurse, that's who. So it's as simple as that. As stupidly simple as that. You're on our ward six hours and have already simplified the work of Freud, Jung and Maxwell Jones and summed it up in one analogy: I'm not talkin' 'bout Fred Yoong and whosis Jones, buddy, I'm talkin' 'bout that crummy meeting and what that nurse did to you.
Did to me? In spades. Why, this is incredible! You completely disregard the fact that everything she did was for my benefit. Horse apples. I'm disappointed in you, my friend. I had judged you were more intelligent. But it's evident I made a mistake. The hell with you, buddy.
Oh, yes, I also noticed your primitive brutality. Psychopath with definite sadistic tendencies, probably motivated by unreasoning egomania. And those talents certainly qualify you as a therapist, my friend. Oh, yes, they render you quite capable of criticizing Miss Ratched, although she's a highly regarded psychiatric nurse with twenty years' experience in the field.
But you, no doubt, with your talent could work subconscious miracles, soothe the aching id and heal the wounded superego. You could probably cure the whole ward, Vegetables and all, in six months, ladies and gentlemen, or your money back! Regards him levelly. Are you tellin' me that this crap that went on today is doing some kinda good? Why else would we subject ourselves to it? Miss Ratched may be a very strict lady, but she is not some kind of monster chicken, pecking our eyes out. No, buddy.
She ain't pecking at your eyes. She is aimin' right square at the family jewels! Miss Ratched! Don't give me that tender-mother crap.
She's a ball-cutter from way back. His talk speeds up, his hands dance and flutter, a wild puppet doing a high-strung dance. Why, see here, my friend, my psychopathic sidekick, Miss Ratched is a veritable angel of mercy and - why, everybody knows it.
She's unselfish as the wind, toiling thanklessly for the good of all, day after day, seven days a week. Why she has no life, no husband, nothing but her work, and everybody knows it.
Do you think she enjoys being stem with us, asking those questions, probing our subconscious till it hurts? So you're wrong, I assure you. Our Miss Ratched is the kindest, sweetest, the most benevolent Stops. Begins to laugh. Oh, the bitch. The bitch. At length. You're right. About all of it. Okay, why'ntcha do something? Because the world belongs to the strong, my friend. The rabbit recognizes the strength of the wolf, so he digs holes and hides when the wolf is about.
He doesn't challenge the wolf to combat.
I'm not a chicken, I'm a rabbit. All of us here, rabbits. Billy, hop around for Mr. McMurphy here. Cheswick, show him how furry you are. Ah, they're bashful. Isn't that sweet? Shut your mouth! All right, friend, what would you have us do? Raise jack. Tell 'er to go to hell! Try it, buddy. They'll ship you right on up to Disturbed. Or down to the Shock Shop. Electro-Shock Therapy, my friend. A device which combines the best features of the sleeping pill, the electric chair and the torture rack.
You kiddin' me? Touching his temples. Hell, no.
With malicious relish. They strap you to a table. You are touched on each side of the head with wires. Chief Broom, there. He's had two hundred treatments. What about that little fart of a doctor? Oh, she requires his approval. But that's a formality. He's got two hundred patients, a bleeding ulcer and no desire to make waves. What's the trouble, friend?
Losing your revolutionary spirit? What about this Democratic Ward stuff? Why'ntcha take a vote? What'll we v-vote? That the Big Nurse can't ask us any more questions?
Can't look at us in a certain way? Can't send us to the Shock Shop?
Tell us, friend, what shall we vote? Hell, anything! Don't you see you got to do something to show you still got balls? You say the Chief is scared, but look at you guys. I never saw a scareder-Iookin' bunch in my life! Standing up. I'm not! After a pause; shrugs. How true. And I sure wouldn't want some 01' fiend of a nurse after me with three thousand volts. On his way out. So what the hell. Welcome to the club.
Turning, slowly coming back. You say she can't do nothin' less she gets your goat? Unless she makes you crack up some way You'd be safe as long as you kept your temper.
Walks around a little, whistling and thinking as the MEN watch him tensely. All right. You birds think you got the champ there.
Well, how'dja like to put some money on it? On what? That I can get the best of her. With joy. You propose to make a wager on that? I am wagering that I can put a burr up that nurse's butt within a week. That I can bug her so she comes apart at them neat little seams and shows you guys she ain't unbeatable.
One week, boys - and if I ain't got her where she don't know whether to shit or go blind the money is yours! Oh, boy! Who's got ten bucks they want to lose?
Come on, buddies, you hit or you sit! McMurphy - this deserves odds. Twenty dollars to your ten that you can't do it. Hey-a, hey-a, hey-a, step right up, it's a spin a the wheel, a turn a the card, it's the battle a the century, one week, seven days, no holds barred, R. McMurphy versus the Big Nurse to a knock-out, decision or draw.
Two to one is the odds, boys, getcha money down, heya, hey-a I bet five dollars Five for the Road Runner! Gentlemen, it's time for occupational therapy. What was that activity?
Finishing writing down the bets. We're just playin' a little game. You're sure it's not some form of gambling? Good heavens, no, ma'am. Gamblin', hell- this is a sure thing!
You see that, Papa? They got the place on automatic pilot for the night. It's in the night they do the things to us they want And if the night ain't long enough they slow it down. Oh, yes, Papa, that's a fact. They got fake time they can speed up or slow down. I seen three months go by once in a hour. I see three days go by like this A finger-snap. A cheerful whistling is heard from the dormitory. He looks about, spies his pornographic deck ofcards, snatches it up. There y'are, babies, don't wanna lose you.
Does a one-handed shuffle and cut, clacks the deck together and laughs in pleasure at his own dexterity. Hey, Chief, sack time! Whatcha doin'? Holy ke-rist, 'bout ten thousand pieces of gum! This where you stash it, Chief? Wait a minute, we can do better'n that. Digs in his pocket, triumphantly comes up with a stick ofgum. Juicy Fruit, okay? There y'are, Injun, put a nice fresh taste in your mouth.
There is a sound of a key in the Ward door. Somebody comin'!
Hurries to the shelter of the angle of the wall. He pulls a bottle of liquor from his back pocket and takes a belt. Then he exits, singing mournfully. Ya know, Chief I thought somebody told me you was deaf. It is morning. They carry cleaning and polishing utensils and a bucket of powdered soap. They set down their materials and go to work on glass and baseboards. Finger marks an' smooches. An' scuffs all over the place.
Big Nurse see this, she raise sand fo' sure. She beat us wi' that big brown bag. Why'n' wejus' beat her back? Go man! First, we slug 'er with this can. Git 'er down! Prize open 'er mouth! Stuff this whole damn mess inside! Ram it to the bottom with a mop! They stomp the imaginary Big Nurse to death.
Momin', boys! Off, big and happy: Hey, there, 01' buddy, what's the chance of gettin' some toothpaste for my grinders? Staring at the hand on his shoulder. We don't open the cabinet till six forty-five. That where it is? Locked in the cabinet? Tha's right.
Well, well, well, now why do you reckon they keep the toothpaste locked up? I mean, it ain't like it's dangerous?
Coming over, snifjing trouble. Ward policy, tha's the reason. Ward policy? Now, why? Well, whaddya s'pose it'd be like if everybody was to brush their teeth whenever they took the notion? Dh huh, uh huh, I think I see what you're drivin' at: Ward policy is for them that can't brush after every meal. My gaw, don't you see? Yeah, I think I do now. You're sayin' people'd be brushin' their teeth whenever the spirit moved 'em.
And, lordy, can you imagine? Teeth bein' brushed at six-thirty, six-twenty - maybe even six o'clock in the mornin'! C'mon, Williams. We gotta get to work Hey, wait, what do we have here? What's the stuff in this old can? Tha's soap powder. Well, I generally use paste Digs his toothbrush in the can, taps it on the side. We'll look into that ward policy shit later. Goes trotting back into the latrine, singing; it becomes mu.
ShoVing the broom in his hand. There, damn you, get workin', don't be gawkin' 'round like some big useless cow!
OjJ, singing in a lusty bellow. Hard livin's my pleasure, my money's my o-o-own An' them that don't like me, they can leave me alo-o-one! Good momin', Miss Rat-shit! How's things on the outside? You can't run around here Towels against ward policy, too? Okay, I'll just - Reaches for the towel.
Don't you dare! You get back in there and put your clothes on this instant. I'he MEN have entered and are watching. I can't do that, ma'am. I'm afraid some thief in the night boosted my clothes. That outfit was supposed to be picked up - to be laundered. Warren got laundry duty. Come here.
Couldn't you see this man had nothing on but a towel? And my cap Got up too early. You'll get his clothing this instant, Mr. Warren, or spend the next two weeks on Geriatrics cleaning bedpans! Whips it off. Underneath he is wearing black satin shorts with an imprint of big white whales with red eyes.
Ain't they some shit? They was a present from a co-ed at Oregon State. She said I was some kind of symbol. Very well, Mr. McMurphy, if you've finished showing off your manly physique, I think you had better go get dressed. Whacks his bare belly and sings as he goes. I want this room spotless.
I remember one Christmas, Papa It was right at midnight and there's a big wind and the door blows open whoosh! They kept him six years, Papa, and when they let him go he was clean-shaved and skinny as a pole. Closing the Log Book. Now, boys, before we open the meeting I thought we might have a little discussion. Informal, you know? On the subject of Patient McMurphy?
Hey, where is McMurphy? I suggested this would be a good time for his inteIView with Dr. I ain't upset. Neither am I!
You may not realize you are. However - From off, a happy chortling and sounds ofmale good-ftllowship, as the Ward door opens and DR.
Right, Doc? Whattaya think? Oh, it's a charming notion. A real blast! Doctor, we have a meeting in progress. Oh, sorry. Go right ahead! We were just considering the matter of morale? Why, that's exactly what we were talking about! And I made the suggestion Hell, no, it was your idea. I suggested - well, what would you think if we were to have a carnival?
Right here on the Ward! Wouldn't it be fun? There could be games, booths, decorations I think it's a good idea! And not without therapeutic value. Hell, yes, lots of therapeutics in a carnival. Scanlon could do his human bomb act. And I could make a ring toss in Occupational Therapy! Myself, I'd be glad to run a Skillo wheel. Chanting under the lines following. Heya, heya, step right up ladies and gentlemen, and try your luck, a bonanza for a dime, a prize on every spinna the wheel!
Oh, fine! I could sell things! I'm rather good at palm readings. Fine, fine! What do you think, Miss Ratched? She looks at him, frozen-smiled. Here on the At length - letting the idea die before burying it. I agree it might have therapeutic possibilities. But of course it must be discussed in Staff before a decision can be reached. Wasn't that your intention, Doctor? Yes, of course I just thought Referring to a memo. Also, Doctor, I recommend that Mr. McMurphy's request for a visitor McMurphy showed me his request in my office and I figured I mean since he's been here a week already I signed it.
Opens the Log Book. I see. Very well, Billy Bibbit and his speech problem. Can you recall, Billy, when you first had speech difficulties? When did you begin to stutter? The v-very first word I said, I stuttered. And when I proposed to a guh-guh-girl, I flubbed it. Your mother has spoken to me about this girl, Billy. Apparently she was quite a bit beneath you. Was it that which frightened you? Then what was the matter? I was in luh-Iove with her. Say, I got somethin' to take up.
If you wish to speak you must first be recognized. You mean you don't know me? I know you but I don't recognize you. Say, you got a hell of a problem! Wouldja like to discuss it? Doctor, I wonder if we shouldn't discuss Mr. In what respect? I have observed a definite deterioration of discipline since he arrived. What you got in mind? Hookin' me up to your little battery charger? For your own good, Randle. In a pig's gizzard! So I must conclude that electro-shock therapy is not indicated.
You call the World Series petty? The World Series Sure, Doc, it starts Friday. The big games! And you got this rule about lookin' at TV only at night. Okay, let's change it to afternoon. For therapeutic reasons? Therapeutic as all hell! Or were you hoping, perhaps, to make bets on the games? How about it, guys? Don't you want to watch the Series? Why not? I don't know, Mac Scanlon, as I recall, you refused to eat for three days until we allowed you to tum on the set at six instead of six-thirty.
A man needs to see the news, don't he? God, they coulda bombed us clear to hell and it'd be a week before we knew. You sayin' there's anything therapeutic about the news? Let's take a vote.
All those in favor raise your hands! Hey, what is this crap? I thought you guys could vote on stuff like this. Ain't that right, Doc? Okay then. What's the matter with you guys? Three, Mr. Just three. Not sufficient to change ward policy.
Now, if that's settled may we terminate the meeting? Listen, Randle. Some of us have b-been here a long time. And some of us will b-be here a long time after you're gone.
A long time after the World Series is over. And don't you see Shaking his head. I don't understand it. I don't - understand - it. BILLY turns away in despair. Harding, what's the matter with you?
What are you guys afraid of? Why, you bunch of gutless wonders. I oughta just leave you to her. Yeah, that's what I oughta do - bust on outa here and nail the door shut behind. All right, you're talking so big, just how would you break out? Forty ways! Name one. You think I'm kiddin, huh. Looks about, and his eyes light on the chest-like panel at the foot of the Station. The thing Billy's sittin' on. I could throw it through that mesh window.
I don't recall anything about psychopaths being able to move mountains. Hell, are you tellin' me I can't lift that dinky thing? That dinky thing weighs a quarter ton. And it contains all the electrical equipment for the Station. Hell, yes, try it Mac. You'll short-circuit the controls and blow this whole damn hospital into orbit! Who's willin' to lay five bucks?
This is more foolhardy that your bet against the Big Nurse. Five bucks, you peckerheads! Here - all your IOU's from Blackjack.
Slamming them on the table. I'll put up the whole shebang, double or nothin'! You're on! I'll take it! Stand back boys. Scanlon, get the women and children someplace safe! Ah, Mac, you giving up Just warmin ' up.
Here goes the real effort! I'his time he throws all his strength into it. He closes his eyes and his lips strain away from his teeth. His head is thrown back, his whole body shaking with the strain. He collapses over the panel. For a few moments there is no sound but his scraping breath. Then he pulls himself to his feet, crosses and picks up the IOU's with clawed and shaking hands.
Proffers them but no one makes a move, so he strews them on the floor. Turns and makes his way unsteadily toward the dormitory. No man could lift that thing. Turning, tears of rage and frustration in his eyes. But I tried. Godammit, I tried. He exits into the dormitory. The waterfall! How come I hear it, Papa? I hear it and it sounds like in the Spring. I see a salmon jump! I smell the snow where the wind is blowin' off the peaks. And the tribe out there above the falls How come, Papa?
What's makin' it come back? Awright, work time, get gain'. Suspicion verified; he marches across to the Station and taps on the glass. She comes out ofthe Station and crosses to the latrine.
Rapping on the door. Sticking his head out. Would you step out her please? Emerges, a toilet mop in hand. Boy, she musta had to go in a hurry! Emerging, very angry. McMurphy, that is an outrage. No ma'am, that is a latrine. You are supposed to get those fixtures clean. Well, ma'am, they might not be clean enough for some people, but me, I'm plannin' to piss in 'em, not eat lunch out of 'em.
I think we'd better give you another job. Enters Station. Take over, buddy! You guys ready to payoff them IOU's? You haven't won yet, friend. Visitor, Mr. She's a dish. Candy baby! Oh, you damned McMurphy! Runs to him, leaps into his arms. Please identify your visitor. She's my goddamn mother! Buddies, this is Candy Starr. Hiya, boys, how's every little thing?
Hey, Pop, what they got you in for? Honey, this is Billy Bibbit. Wouldja believe it? He's a virgin. Aw, they lock you up for that? Come over here and talk to me.
How's Sandra? Tied up, man, I mean like really. She got married. Got which? Can you picture that? Who to? You remember Artie, from Beaverton? Always used to show up at the parties with some weird thing, a gopher snake or a white rat or some weird thing like that?
Jesus, a real maniac! She clamps her hand over her mouth and looks at the MEN, round-eyed. That's okay, honey, they're a lot crazier outside. You damned McMurphy She throws her arms around his neck. On microphone. Raising both hands. You all right, baby? I mean, they treating you all right? Oh, hell, yes. The grub - sensational. And the bed they give a man Hoping to her feet.