Madness fails to deliver in 'Cuckoo's Nest'

By Joseph T. Rozmiarek
Advertiser Drama Critic

Randl Ask plays Dale Harding and Bridget Kelly plays Nurse Ratched "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest." Brad Goda 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest' 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, 4 p.m. Sundays, through Feb. 16 Diamond Head Theatre $40-$10; 733-0274

The play, an adaptation of Ken Kesey's 1960s novel about life in a 1950s mental hospital, is a darkly comic, rebellious shot against powerful and controlling systems and people. The script by Dale Wasserman also has a strong streak of Gothic horror. It was a 1970s movie starring Jack Nicholson and was recently revived on Broadway, starring Gary Sinise.

In this production, however, the strongest Gothic element is Patrick Kelly's set design, which looks a lot like Hamlet's castle, with one of the turrets glassed in for a nurses' station. It's supposed to be the day room on a mental ward, populated with a variety of bizarre patients rather than Danish soldiers.

Harding (Randl Ask) is the prissy, self-committed husband of a much younger wife. Billy (Brent Yoshikami) is the suicidal refuse of a dominant mother. Ruckly (Paul Jeffrey Dee) has no lines, but spends most of the play in a crucifixion position, noticeably drooling.

There is a ghost, however, in the unseen presence of Chief Bromden's father, to whom the Chief (Dan Hale) explains how too much authority makes men smaller and smaller, until they eventually disappear.

The ward is presided over by Nurse Ratched (Bridget Kelly), who uses a pathologically even temper to run a forbiddingly tight ship.

Into this mix swaggers Randle McMurphy (Allen Cole), a charismatic con man who talked his way out of a five-month prison sentence by feigning mental illness. Expecting an easy ride, he proclaims himself to be the "bull goose loony" and proceeds to relieve the other patients of their loose change in a series of card games and small bets.

The action of the play becomes a contest of wills between the rigidly autocratic Ratched and the merry prankster McMurphy. Symbolism piles up in layers until the ultimate question is whether McMurphy will become the sacrificial savior of the men he represents.

Bill Ogilvie directs and the cast seems to be giving him what he asks for. Kelly's tone is warm, but forbiddingly even. Cole is spontaneous and likeable and deliriously unaware of contemporary political correctness. But what's missing is the shock of reality and the potential consequence of disaster beneath the dangerous game they both play.

It must hit McMurphy (and through him, hit the audience) like a brick in the solar plexus.

It hits at least three times. First, when he learns that his commitment to the hospital could be for life. Second, when he learns that violent behavior can result in shock treatment and lobotomy. And last, when he finally crosses the line in response to Ratched's ultimate dare.

In this production, we clearly see all the blows fall, but we don't feel their impact.

There is some delight here, though, in smaller doses, such as Harding's cunning smile, Billy's stammering helplessness, Bromden's war cry and Ruckly's moment as a basketball hoop.