There are a lot of things that are true, even if they never happened. If you’re ready to spend an evening with the self-proclaimed ‘psycho-ceramics; the crackpots of humanity’ then you should head out to Showcase on Main in Elkton, MD for a harrowing and evocative production of Dale Wasserman’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Directed by Lee Lewis, the production is tragically relevant to the way mental health issues in our country are handled today. Forget Jack Nicholson, forget the movie, and focus on a story that’s unfolding before you; this is the best way to fully experience the semi-immersive performance being displayed for the evening’s stage traffic.
If you’re feeling so bold, you can have your pick of the general seating right in the middle of the ‘Day Room’ inside the asylum. Director & Scenic Designer Lee Lewis has transformed the intimate play space that Showcase on Main has to offer; there’s a damn chain-link fence closing off the audience and the immersive stage. The walls are stark and sterile, cultivating that isolated feel and there are doors that lead off to the respective unseen wings and wards of the mental institution, each one painstaking labeled with letters and numbers that hold meaning to the inmates and staff. While the set initially feels minimal— and depending on where you choose to sit, you’re going to have a vastly different experience of the production— there is also something clinical and cold about its construction. This befits the overall nature of Cuckoo’s Nest superbly.
The show’s only major issue, and credibly this could be a point of creative-disagreement, is the show’s sound design (also created by Lee Lewis.) While it is most certainly edgy and creates all the right eerie, disquieting, and unsettling vibes, it’s the sound-design’s placement and duration that makes you tilt your side to the head and go— ‘what?’ At times, when these very disoriented pieces of chaotic instrumental sound find their way under scenes— they sound like the ‘Oscar Termination Speech’ cue, where they creep in because the scene is running too long. At other times they seem to burble up under a scene prematurely, as if setting the stage for some big emotional moment, and either linger too long or fade away too quickly. This also creates the issue— given the unique cavernous stretch of the play-space— of volume balance. At times when these sound cues are cradling scene work, some of the actors cannot be heard as well over these sound effects and scores. (This is also an issue for certain actors when they walk down-stage or turn their backs to the majority of the audience, and failure to project makes their dialogue difficult to hear and understand.) Despite all of this— there is a ‘Gutsball’ moment of sound near the end of the show where an iconic tune, in a warped instrumental rendition, creeps into the scene and the moment you recognize it— your insides turn to ice and drop.
There’s also something to be said for the way Lee Lewis formats the opening of the show. Before the show starts, inmates and orderlies are milling about on the set— this is a common tactic used when you want the audience to really have a feel for what they’re getting themselves into— and with the way Lewis has designed the seating arrangements, this is a rather fantastic element for this production. However, the striking and jarring start of the play loses its effectiveness entirely because of this pre-show setup. Lewis has done an amazing job creating this harrowing opening ‘pre-scene’, if you will, with red lighting, unearthly and unholy music and the inmates, nurses, and orderlies shuffling out like systematic zombies— like cogs in the combine. The stark slam of how impactful this could be as the show’s true opening is diluted because of all the ‘pre-show’ shuffling. (Save that for the intermission perhaps?)
Lewis’ overall direction of the play is powerful. Rather than create caricatures of people struggling with mental health, he lets the various characters’ manifest their outward presenting symptoms in a more natural fashion. The pacing of the show is solid, except there are a few times during the initial group-therapy sessions where the pacing feels off. This generates from a place of character’s trying to be awkward or dismayed and subdued but then falling just a little too deeply into those feelings. It doesn’t detract too much from the show’s overall experience, but the play itself is written with great length. There are a great many moments that Lewis really draws attention to— though some of the finest occur near the play’s end, and for fear of spoilers, it can only be said that some of the choices made in how certain reveals are executed are jaw-dropping and stunning.
Though Cuckoo’s Nest is a battleground between R. P. McMurphy and Nurse Ratched, the show itself functions wholistically as an ensemble piece. With 14 members of the ensemble, in addition to the aforementioned leads, each player brings an intrinsic working function to the performance. Whether its Aide Warren & Williams (Alexander VanderLek & Matt Ford) being mouthy, obscene, and cruel to the inmates on the ward, or Aide Turkle (Gary Kirchoff) whose lines are few but whose potent moments of standing and drinking from his flask are cut quite the picture, everyone is an integral cog in this production. Even the somewhat flimsy Dr. Spivey (John Mulvey) and his difficult attempt to stand boldly against Nurse Ratched, the nervous-nelly Nurse Flinn (Christy Lewis) who adds fuel to McMurphy’s comic fire when he starts digging his heels into the ward, and of course Candy (Amie Bell) and Sandy (Paula Diggs-Smith) who show up for some frilly fun late in the show; all of these little nuanced performances create the reality of the asylum, showing the true natures and horrors of the place for the audience to consume.
Listed among the ‘incurables’ Ruckley (Phil Hansel) only speaks a singular repetitive line (too crude for printing) and it is executed with flawless comic timing for the handful of times it is spoken. Hansel does a stellar job of existing on the walls in his own delusions, often hanging like the crucifixion, waiting for the invisible nails to be pulled from his hands before he can move. But the best moment of Hansel’s character is being the hoop and net during the illegal basketball game on the ward in the second act. Martini (Dale Fleetwood) though not an incurable, is constantly seeing things that aren’t there and he takes a chance to work this into the ‘party scene’ nearly interacting with audience members to the point where McMurphy has to tell him to stop seeing people who aren’t there. (This earns quite the chuckle from the audience but on a deeper level…is harrowing. Those inside are ‘unseen’ by those living in reality.)
Scanlon (Jeff Lacey), Cheswick (Ethan Knettler), and Dale Harding (Daniel Clymer) round out the core of inmates in this production, with Lacey’s Scanlon constantly wanting to blow stuff up, and Knettler’s Cheswick being rather mouthy, though they both have very heavy moments during the ‘final realization’ of the production. Clymer, as the ‘chief loony’ is both affable and yet odd, which makes for an enjoyable performance throughout. There’s also Taylor Goodwin as the stammering, stuttering Billy Bibbit. The way Goodwin takes to the character is both reverent and astonishing. The stammer and stutter feels authentic, only truly getting tripped up when he’s especially nervous, which includes every single time he’s addressed by Nurse Ratched. The awkward, deeply shamed, and shy mannerisms that Goodwin brings to the character, infusing them through speech as well as body language, makes him dynamic, giving the audience a real human being who is suffering, rather than just this notion of a kid who stammers and has mommy issues.
A noticeable difference for those coming in with the 70’s movie in the back of the mind, is the more prominent role that Chief Bromden (Guy Wellman) plays in the stage production. There are inter-scene narrations featuring Chief Bromden, where he speaks, long, moving passages that narrate his experience in a semi-soliloquy to his father. The way Wellman delivers these moments sends shivers up the spine. The Chief Bromden character is listed as deaf and dumb, but there are moments when the interactions with McMurphy become so touching and beautiful, it’s difficult not to cry. Wellman wholly embodies this role and brings a powerful presence to stage whether he’s in the deaf-dumb mode or other operating mode of the character. As a performer, Wellman might be the biggest presence on the stage, and in a show where Lance Bankerd is a leading figure, that’s truly making a statement.
With so many prior incarnations of the iconic Nurse Ratched, it is impressive that Melanie Bishop manages to make the character truly her own. While there is still the expected, uniformed iciness that accompanies the no-nonsense, in-charge persona, Bishop finds a way to really cut the other characters down in a subtle yet effective fashion. This often occurs with a single look. Watch her closely when she makes her rounds through the ward, stopping and staring at Ruckly, as if her gaze gives permission for him to remain mounted on the wall, or that threatening ‘mommy-dearest’ glance that she forces on Billy Bibbit by grabbing his chin and making him look at her. The way Bishop controls her facial expressions is second to none in this production. Watch the lightning quick flash of fury which is quickly swallowed and schooled into neutrality when the discussion of a ‘carnival on the ward’ start taking place. It’s these micro-moments in her portrayal of Ratched that really make the production harrowing. Bishop’s tone is clipped, reserved throughout the performance; there are only a handful of moments when her voice is raised with the true ire that the character is experiencing. Watch— in blood-curdling horror— the way the scene post-party unfolds with Bishop’s Ratched, you won’t be able to look away.
Bishop provides the perfect foil for the apoplectic, high-strung, and completely unwound R.P. McMurphy (Lance Bankerd.) Getting their digs in with a special pronunciation of her name, right from the off you can see the mania of ‘loving life’ just a little too hard reflected in Bankerd’s eyes. The initial theme-music underscoring Bankerd’s arrival is appropriately disruptive and disturbing; Lee Lewis has hit the mark with this particular sound effect. Bankerd delivers this perpetually moony, shit-eating grin, particularly when reacting to things that are said by Ratched, which may seem like such a small detail but is one that truly leads to perfection in their crafting of this character. The overall explosivity of Bankerd’s McMurphy is perfectly fitting for the character’s disruptive presence on the ward; there isn’t a moment that Bankerd is on that stage, live and active as McMurphy, where you can’t feel the energy radiating out of the character like 10,000 volts. Overly enthusiastic, rowdy, excitable, there aren’t enough words to attribute to the performance, if I’m honest. Bankerd finds the balance too— between the crazy fun and the serious fury, both of which are embodied in their portrayal of McMurphy.
There’s a solidarity between these men on this word; this production explores that while highlighting the truly deplorable ways society thought was acceptable when it came to addressing issues of mental health and wellness. Showcase On Main’s production of One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest is surely one for the books, and while ‘enjoyable’ always feels like the wrong word when the subject matter is so deep, dark, and heavy— there is a thrilling evening awaiting you at this production.
Running Time: Approximately 3 hours with one intermission
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest plays through March 12, 2022 at Showcase On Main— 112 W. Main Street in Elkton, MD. Tickets are available at the door or in advance online.
To read the interview with Lance Bankerd & Melanie Bishop on playing R.P. McMurphy and Nurse Ratched, click here.
