Spoiler Alert.
Tired of working for a prison's work farm, one inmate decides to play crazy, and winds up in a different sort of institution still strictly and coldly regulated.
He's rather aggressive and independent and quickly gains disputatious influence, realizing his wits are still intact and keen on promoting seismic change.
But the regulations are rather severe and there's no place for critical controversy; trouble abounds if you can't grow accustomed to the various binding slights.
R.P McMurphy (Jack Nicholson) has never been one to listen to anything besides his passionate emotion, and he goes about setting his brethren free, with oceanic amassed endeavour.
Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher) is sympathetic but also concerned with rigorous discipline, the film challenging psychiatric conventions used to theoretically promote sanity.
McMurphy's approach makes more sense for living or thoroughly enjoying undisciplined life, his wild contumelious hedonistic ontology the product of distaste for form and structure.
Nurse Ratched crafts strong workers who can function within a hierarchical structure, and pays less attention to thrilling desire than their productive work at hand.
McMurphy may have made complimentary inroads had he not been so thoroughly combative; life within the hospital may be dull but it's still aligned with reasonable thought.
He is rational or at least he reasons but he's not a trained psychiatrist.
He's well-versed in vibrant life but perhaps overly concerned with chaos.
He introduces fun and playful mischief to people unaccustomed to freedom, or to freely and confidently expressing themselves in order to obtain objectives.
The administration's goals and objectives promote sure and steady stability, but perhaps without considering happiness as it applies to daily life.
Nurse Ratched is often critiqued for being hard-hearted and stubborn, but McMurphy wantonly disrespects her even though she's trying to help.
He doesn't just make rude comments or eagerly disobey, he throws a party with booze and prostitutes and she's left with no choice but to punish him.
The punishment's grossly disproportionate and akin to tacit murder, if such methods are still used today we're clearly still quite a barbarous species.
Blending work and play with logical enjoyment seems like a rational goal to pursue.
I don't know how regulations can promote joy, but how do epicureans finance lavish lifestyles without ever having to work?
The balance is out there somewhere, hopefully emerging after vigorous investigation.
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest examines extremes, bellicosely jostling in stern opposition.
Casting by Jane Feinberg & Mike Fenton.
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