One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (Byron Woods)You read it here first: scenic designer Rick Young has outdone himself in the current show at Raleigh Little Theatre. But the real news on the set of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest involves the constellation of performances that keep pace with the aesthetic upgrades in the other elements of that production. Strong set and costume design have been the one consistent factor in recent seasons on the stages at RLT; both have repeatedly outshone the decidedly off-again, on-again acting and direction in the same period. Even so, Young's dingy, grungy day room in an Oregonian state mental hospital sets a new level of achievement for environments at this theater. Walls and floors done up in shades of institutional green, grime--and tell-tale streaks of faded red--surround the second-story cage, of a combination surveillance tower and nurse's station. Exposed girders and supports of pig iron and rebar only add to the spiritual uplift in a room forsaken by God, Freud and all hope as well. So far, so good. But when we've forgotten the room we'll still remember Maggie Rasnick's iron-backed interpretation of Nurse Ratched, the asylum's major-domo. For my money, it's an accomplishment surpassing even Julie Fishell's formidable reading in Open Door Theater's turn-of-the-century production of the play. Where that production presented a character arguably cognizant of the scams of power and privilege, Rasnick here is directed as something significantly more frightening: a true believer, icy in the certain knowledge that everything she does really is for best for her "boys." It's as much a tribute to Rasnick as it is to her co-directors, set designer Young (pulling double duty in this production) and his wife, Linda [O'Day Young]. But an actor at this level of achievement sets a difficult standard for others to follow. Many do. Timothy Cherry brings urbane dignity to inmate Harding, and Kurt Benrud is a haunted Chief Bromden. David Coulter, Matt Schedler, Al Marsiglia and Del Flack all distinguish themselves in supporting roles in the asylum. So do Larry Evans and the beneficent Justin Farr, though their roles at times are arguably over-relied upon for comic relief. All of which leaves the central, unanswered riddle of Seth Blum's work as R. P. McMurphy. By now, Blum's credentials as a serious actor have been well established. But this interpretation, to my eyes at least, resolves the question of his sanity--and his fate--far too early in the game. Traditionally with McMurphy, one thing has to be the case. He has to convince us that he actually might get away with all of it--the gambling scams, the day-room power plays, and ultimately his freedom. But here it's hard to escape the sense that we're watching a pretty flimsy con man slowly being crushed in a system he has fatally miscalculated. As they say these days in upscale Texas, the man's hat-to-cattle ratio is seriously off. Before a show like Cuckoo's Nest can crush our hopes, it has to actually raise them. I'm still not certain I ever saw enough of that in an otherwise frequently distinguished production at Raleigh Little Theatre. The Independent
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