While watching the classic American film "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," I couldn't help but recall a photo series I had seen before, capturing vivid images of individuals with mental illnesses. The serene smiles of young girls, the vacant stares of men in blue-and-white striped patient uniforms, those confined in stone buildings with iron shackles, and patients subjected to special "treatment" while bound to trees due to their manic behavior.
In Irving Stone's biography "Lust for Life" about the Dutch painter Vincent van Gogh, scenes of the mental breakdown and admission to the Saint-Rémy asylum are vividly described. Various mentally ill patients are incessantly noisy, tearing off their clothes, destroying everything in front of them, roaring like animals, suicidal tendencies, persecution delusions, and those with unpredictable epileptic fits. Some temporarily form small groups, supporting each other during their respective episodes and displaying incredible patience. When these patients are lucid, they acknowledge their illnesses, overcoming the fear associated with them, viewing each other's madness as a physical ailment like lung disease or cancer.
It took me quite some time to understand why I hesitated to write a review for "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest." The film challenged my pre-existing notions to such an extent that I couldn't easily give it a five-star rating, solely considering its symbolic significance of transcending institutions and cultures. Its portrayal resonated too closely with the focus of my professional studies, forcing me to confront it.
In George Orwell's 1948 political allegory novel "1984," he depicted a totalitarian society where "war is peace, freedom is slavery, ignorance is strength." In this world of white terror, personal lives, emotions, and even thoughts are exposed to public scrutiny under the watchful eye of the beloved "Big Brother." All vibrant minds are suppressed despite the apparent harmony and order of society.
McMurphy's entry into the mental institution before undergoing the lobotomy procedure is reminiscent of this collective atmosphere. Nurses and patients greet each other and follow a schedule of entertainment, medication, meetings, and free activities. They play cards quietly, the music is soothing, the lighting is soft, and, for good behavior, they may even go outdoors for recreation. Each day in the asylum unfolds in this established routine, seemingly orderly and tranquil, except for an indescribable sense of oppression.
McMurphy can be considered a true rebel, possibly with traits of antisocial personality disorder or adult attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. He is confident, rebellious, extravagant, radical, and joyous, with a bloodstream full of restless elements, eager for revolution and play every minute of his life. As the pioneer of the French Symbolist poetry, Baudelaire, said, "What does the permanent punishment matter to someone who has had a second of infinite pleasure?"
The encounter between such an explosive personality and the rigidly institutionalized mental asylum is a disaster for both parties. With his disrespect and defiance, McMurphy attempts to challenge all the rules and regulations that seek to tame him. His presence is like a pebble thrown into stagnant water, disrupting the calm surface of the asylum. Unlike many rock or political films that express the spirit of freedom, McMurphy's extreme rebellious behavior is not due to some avant-garde education or influence of rock spirit. His yearning for and dependence on liberty seem to be innate qualities God recreated and returned to humanity. This quality, scarce in the overly calm order of modern civilization, is enticing. Even the mentally ill, living in poverty and suppression, enjoy the same satisfaction and joy as ordinary people under his inspiration. The scene where he leads his fellow patients on an outing to fish bask in the sun, and frolic with girls is particularly moving.
The ultimate authority figure, enforcer of norms, and supervisor in the mental institution is Nurse Ratched (kudos to her portrayal; accurately capturing the character). By today's standards, she is a cold and puritanical middle-aged woman, appearing as a diligent, stern professional career woman. Her actions, expressions, and facial features exude an indifferent managerial demeanor. She constantly employs polite and feigned warmth in her interactions, maintaining the sacred order of the asylum. She, her meticulously arranged hair and white coat, and the incessantly played, ear-deafening "lyrical music" cloaks the asylum in a cloak of the humane, compassionate, and peaceful exterior.
Although the film intentionally seems to paint Nurse Ratched as the biggest antagonist, I couldn't help but unconsciously develop a particular understanding and sympathy for this woman who once served in the military and worked her way up from a young nurse to a mental hospital matron. Living day in and day out with mentally ill individuals is a high-pressure and monotonous job that ordinary people cannot comprehend. Perhaps she was once a gentle and loving young lady; maybe she was attacked numerous times by patients in episodes, shedding tears for failing to control a suddenly manic patient. Yet, she became tired, lost her youth's kindness and patience, smiles and ideals, and eventually hardened and became numb. She assimilated into and was transformed by the authoritarian system, seamlessly playing the role of a moralist. Unwaveringly, adhering to the system was simply the most efficient way to fulfill her job responsibilities. In the end, she, too, was confined within the oppression of the system; even though she was a manager, she was also a victim.
This film was shot in 1970s America, when a wave of countercultural movements, including the anti-war movement, civil rights movement, student movement, women's movement, hippie movement, and sexual revolution, swept through the values of young people of that era. Thus, artistic works created a character like McMurphy, embodying wild abandonment, roaring to death rather than kneeling in life, fitting in with the values of that time.
However, the paradox lies in that society is called a society because of its established cultural conventions and ideal model standards. Behaviors conflicting with orthodox beliefs, not accepted by mainstream society, may be labeled as "abnormal" or "insane," resulting in unjust treatment. In "Madness and Civilization," Michel Foucault explained his understanding of "madness." He wrote that the modern concept of madness is a cultural invention of control: those once accepted as part of society and the absurdity of life are now seen as a threat. They are isolated in mental hospitals, silently disappearing.
When societal authorities cannot tolerate those who do not adhere to social rules, those conflicting with the mainstream culture may be labeled as "abnormal" or "insane" and unjustly treated. The film "Changeling," nominated for five Oscars in 2009, portrays how law enforcement in 1920s America sent a mentally sound female protagonist to a mental hospital to cover up their mistakes in solving a case. Interestingly, within the mental hospital, almost no doctor or nurse would pay attention to the protagonist's explanations and pleas that she is not ill but persecuted. She had to quiet down in that environment; otherwise, she would face terrifying electroshock therapy.
In the 1960s, the United States experienced an "anti-psychiatry movement" led by psychiatrist Thomas Szasz. He advocated that mental disorders and unconventional behaviors were not necessarily diseases or crimes. He believed that so-called mental illnesses were artificial "labels" used by the ruling class and wealthy individuals to ostracize the poor, those with different credentials, and non-conformists. While this viewpoint may be extreme, it significantly promoted the "anti-institutionalization movement" of the 1970s. In 1973, around the time the movie was being made, the journal "Science" published a research report titled "On Being Sane in Insane Places." Eight researchers posed as diagnosed schizophrenic patients, were admitted to mental hospitals, and were granted discharges after 7-52 days. However, they still received diagnoses of a "remission period" from the hospital, sparking societal reflection. Since then, unless a danger to society, American society no longer forcibly institutionalizes mentally ill patients.
In today's society, dominated by humanitarian values, treating individuals with dignity, freedom, and equality is essential. However, space is not innate; it results from constant struggle. People with mental illnesses have a history of demonization by society, forgotten by the public. Medical personnel, labeled as white angels, have also used authority to establish an unequal, oppressive relationship. Whether ruling a country, managing a hospital, or treating "internet-addicted youths," we must realize that none of these subjects should be subdued and standardized. Where there is oppression, there will be resistance. Even if the spark of a pioneer is temporarily extinguished, a mighty successor will eventually awaken, lifting the boulder, smashing the iron bars, and soaring "over the cuckoo's nest."
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