Welcome to Stuart Fernie’s Blog
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Reflections on a variety of films and topics - Seven Samurai, It's a Wonderful Life, Don Quixote, We're no angels, War for the planet of the apes, Dunkirk, The African Queen, Babette's Feast, Dances with Wolves, The Prisoner (1967), Inherit the wind, humour in drama, nature of regret, the influence of multimedia, memoirs of a teacher of French.
Tuesday, 3 February 2026
Introduction
Reflections on the arts, their purpose and their effect
Reflections on the arts, their purpose and their effect
There are many reasons
for producing art in the form of drama, music, books and images: they may
entertain by indulging the emotions, the senses, the mind and the imagination;
they may inform by providing detail of events and people of public interest;
they may invite reflection by drawing attention to aspects of life and society
and inviting consideration of positive and negative aspects of attitudes and
actions, possibly with a view to influence thought or effect change. Many books
and films have been produced in order to emphasise the effects of certain ideas
or social attitudes and outlooks, or to act as a warning of the consequences of
actions or lack of action.
There are many branches
of the arts and some may view their purpose as confined principally to
entertainment or academic study, and they may feel that only practical action
and its consequences will bring about change. Much depends on the character of
individual viewers, readers or listeners, but the arts may be seen as providing
the intellectual stimulus or emotional basis for change or development.
Society needs the arts to
provide focus for intelligent thought, analysis and evaluation of society, with
observation of the human condition and an objective review of the direction in
which society is travelling. The arts invite people to see things from a fresh
or different perspective and may encourage critical thinking, compassion,
tolerance and fairness, qualities that form the basis of a successful and
peaceful society.
One may ask how to define
“success” in the arts. Traditionally, success is measured by result, but could
success in the arts also be related to purpose? The arts have encapsulated
life, invited reflection and have offered guidance, even warnings, for
centuries, yet there are times when they appear to have had little positive
effect on society and outlook, apart from serving as entertainment and
providing food for thought. The arts will rarely bring about change in
themselves but they may lay the foundations of thought and awareness that will
lead to change and evolution as our minds are influenced, perhaps almost
imperceptibly, by an effort to enable us to see and understand differing thoughts,
viewpoints and outcomes.
Inspiring change or
building awareness may be an elusive objective for many artists but hope and
purpose sustain the spirit and feed the soul. While success can be validating
and comforting, “artists” are driven primarily by the ongoing task of exploring
emotion, thought and ideas, and identifying truths and principles in life.
Unfortunately, not everyone shares their ambition or is willing to listen and
it is the continued struggle for clarity, comprehension, critical thinking and
perhaps persuasion, that propels them.
My thanks for taking the
time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
The appeal of the Bond films, and reflections on the portrayal of Bond
The appeal of the Bond films, and reflections on the portrayal of Bond
The
Bond films have had an immense impact on the shape of nearly all the action/adventure
films which have followed them. The series developed the concept and style of
"seriously delivered ironic escapism" well beyond anything that had
been produced up to that point, set the benchmark for other productions, and
made others seem camp or lacking by comparison.
It is
difficult to analyse or define the exact nature of the appeal of the Bond
films, but for me the essential factor (certainly in the earlier films) is
their knowing approach to the telling of a ridiculous tale which is seriously
told. This "seriously jocular" approach carries the base material to
a higher cinematic plain. The books were well written adventure stories which
were fun and engaging, but their cinematic interpretations managed to combine
adventure with a knowing self-mockery and complicit humour, adding an element
of wit and entertainment missing from the original material.
Exotic
and ridiculous situations are set up with great care, attention to detail and
atmosphere, and above all with due regard for the serious development of
character and storyline. Then, after considerable effort to be convincing,
clever dialogue or even simply a reaction from one of the characters, suggest
that the makers and actors are well aware that this is all just a bit of concocted
fun after all, and are willing to share the joke with the audience.
This
is, I think, a key element in explaining the appeal and success of the early
Bond films – the audience is party to the joke, while Bond’s adversaries are
not. The audience wants to identify with the hero, and in a sense the Bond
films allowed the audience to be involved with him and the plot through
conspiratorial humour.
In this
respect the producers chose the perfect incarnation of Bond in Sean Connery. Connery
was a master of effortlessly conveying ironic remarks which only the audience could
truly or completely understand due to its fuller knowledge of events and
characters in the film. He managed to combine perfectly lightness and
seriousness. He achieved a sense of authenticity and humanity through a series
of carefully observed reactions and "ticks", yet regularly reminded
us that what we are watching is an elaborate joke – be it through the dialogue
itself, the way it’s delivered, or just a look.
As the
series progressed it must have been difficult to maintain the quality of the
writing, and indeed the jokes, though still present, became largely just that –
jokes, rather than witty and knowing reminders that this is all a set-up
created for our entertainment. Of course, the original style does not suit
every actor and those who went on to play the role played to their own
strengths, but with the gradual disappearance of this "knowing"
humour, the series became weaker and increasingly dependent on other factors.
The films may have remained enjoyable, but they are undoubtedly less witty and playful
than they once were.
Even
the general ambiance of lightness and fun was diluted to a great extent in the
more recent additions to the series. Essentially, they remained fantastic tales
told seriously with flashes of fun and humour to indicate they should not be
taken too seriously, but over the years there have been attempts to incorporate
greater psychological depth in the principal characters (and the storylines). Of
course, if the audience doesn’t care about the fate of the principal character
the whole exercise becomes somewhat pointless. It is essential, then, to have
the central character show human characteristics which can inspire empathy.
This can be achieved by means of showing reaction to a particular situation,
revealing inner feelings and attitudes. However, in Timothy Dalton’s and Pierce
Brosnan’s outings, and especially in the Daniel Craig cycle, there was an
attempt to dig more deeply into potential character flaws or personal
weaknesses in Bond, giving him greater psychological depth.
I seem
to remember reading that for Fleming, Bond was always intended as a fairly
non-descript "hook" for a good story. I think the same theory might
apply to the films. Clearly it would be damaging to the film NOT to have Bond
show human characteristics, but it can be equally damaging, given the original
premise of irony, fun and entertainment, to dig too deeply into the psyche of
what was intended to be an instrument of entertainment.
The
early films have a unique flavour and style, and it was with these films that I
grew up. It is perhaps unfair to compare the later Bonds which played to the
strengths of the lead actor, but I think it is fair to say that while the early
Bonds were innovative and led a virtual revolution in cinema entertainment, the
later films have become somewhat derivative not just of themselves, but of the
very films which were inspired by the style of the Bond originals.
Much
though I enjoyed the later films, and Daniel Craig’s human hero, for me these were
not Bond films. They were engaging action adventures whose main character was
called James Bond, but this was not the Bond I grew up with and supported for
years. I recognise this is a generational issue but it is also an issue of
integrity and recognition of the qualities millions of fans admired for
decades, qualities that were cast aside in favour of a Jason Bourne intensity
and gravity, indeed one might even call him Bourne-again Bond.
Clearly,
modern cinema-goers were willing to accept the Daniel Craig iteration as the
definitive and psychologically more developed version of Bond, but I found this
derivative and forced. I think
it was a fundamental mistake to try to make Bond’s backstory the focus for the
films. The character is simply not complex or strong enough, and to create a
personal link between Bond and Blofeld borders on soap opera and diminishes
Blofeld’s criminal psychological profile to that of a jealous step-brother (of
sorts)!
In my opinion,
Bond was at his best and most original when he fulfilled his mission
professionally and entertainingly, and the films were delivered with
conspiratorial humour and witty playfulness, while Bond himself was made
incidentally human, responding to events and people, and whose backstory and
character were not the focus of the storyline.
My thanks for
taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
Wednesday, 17 December 2025
Reflections on "Sweet Smell of Success" (1957)
Reflections on “Sweet Smell of Success”
(1957)
Directed by Alexander Mackendrick
Screenplay by Clifford Odets and
Ernest Lehman
starring Burt Lancaster and Tony
Curtis
Although the film is ostensibly about a newspaper columnist, his influence and the lengths to which people will go to curry favour, the underlying criticism can be applied to any number of areas – anywhere where individuals put their own careers, needs and desires above law, principle and common humanity, and given recent political and media events, I would say this film is as relevant as ever…
“Sweet Smell of Success” is the story of one man’s power and influence (illusory but accepted by others), his selfish abuse of that power, and the grasping attempts of others to flatter, please or weasel their way into his field of influence.
It offers a shattering picture of the media and the ways in which newspapers (and now television, radio and social networking sites) can make or break careers and lives without necessarily respecting fact and truth. This amoral and self-righteous attitude is personified by J. J. Hunsecker (played by Burt Lancaster).
Hunsecker is a callous, unforgiving and intolerant man accustomed to passing judgement and manipulating the response of others to individuals. Of course, he has no right to do what he does, but he is given leeway perhaps because those in a position to stop him feel they might become the next victims of his intolerance.
In good part, this is the responsibility of the whole of society in that “they” decide what is acceptable or not, but in the meantime, until mood and attitude change, there are those who would follow Hunsecker’s example, accept the status quo and try to turn it to their personal advantage.
Sidney Falco (played by Tony Curtis) is one such hustler. A publicity man acting on behalf of his clients, but also in his own interests, Sidney reluctantly agrees to become involved in Hunsecker’s blatant fabrications for his own ends, paying no heed to the pain and suffering caused by his actions.
This cynical turning away from principle, truth and “decency” toward base manipulation of facts for their own ends shows there are few heroes here – only guys caught up in the existential battle for survival and the imposition of one’s own will.
Only two of the characters, Hunsecker’s sister Susie and her boyfriend Steve, show decency and a respect for truth and sincerity, and they are portrayed as hopelessly outnumbered and inadequate in face of the number of hustlers and the sheer scale of their machinations. Every other character has something shady to hide – a reason why they have sought favours from others and why they now owe favours.
This is a world of shady dealings behind a façade of glitter and respectability. Everyone conceals truth and plays on what it would cost the individual were the truth to be revealed. J. J. Hunsecker appears to be the only one to openly accept this and call a spade a spade, and this may be why he rules the rumour roost, a position he maintains through his cold and calculating use of information gathered by lackeys. Indeed, his problems begin only when he allows things to become personal and he interferes in his beloved kid sister’s relationship, and when he starts to see himself as the righteous figure whose position he has adopted rather than an ordinary man filling that position.
Sidney Falco, on the other hand, remains an underling, but one who aspires to Hunsecker’s hallowed position and “greatness”. He plays games with the lives of all those he meets, to some extent in order to further their careers, but he is overwhelmingly motivated by what he can gain for himself in so doing. That said, we feel there may still be a glimmer of humanity in Sidney as he is clearly uncomfortable with the lengths to which he is being invited to go, yet he caves in when offered what he regards as the ultimate reward – a column of his own. In the end, however, he must turn to the truth to save himself as he learns how it feels to be a victim of manipulation and deceit.
The script bristles with wit and wisdom while maintaining a remarkable pace, and Mackendrick’s direction is simply superb as he fills the screen with fake light and glitter while surrounded by darkness. It is a relief to see Susie emerge into natural light in the end, crossing the road toward sunshine! There is no let-up in the pace and Mackendrick helps to coax great and varied performances from his actors.
Burt Lancaster is the tower of uncompromising strength of self-belief required at the centre of this film. Without such a cold, manipulative, but above all intelligent and indomitable performance, there would be no film. Hunsecker is the warning, the self-righteous thing to avoid, while Sidney Falco is the wannabe in gestation – a character for whom you may feel contempt, yet he retains a glimmer of hope and humanity, and as such he is played brilliantly by Tony Curtis. Curtis’s performance (oily, manipulative, but with that trace of human hesitation and truth that allow the viewer to see the doubt in his mind) should be considered one of the greatest in film history.
All told, this is a wonderful combination of script, direction and performance to tell a tale of how personal advancement may be achieved at the expense of others, and how principle and truth may also fall victim to that ambition.
The film was, at the time of its release in 1957, a
complete flop and caused considerable damage to the careers of several of the
participants. It has since gained a phenomenal and well-deserved reputation as
a film classic, and was even chosen for preservation in the United States Film
Registry as being “culturally, historically or aesthetically significant”.
My thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
Reflections on "Rollerball" (1975 and 2002)
Reflections on "Rollerball" (1975)
Directed by Norman Jewison
Screenplay by William Harrison
Starring James Caan, John Beck, John
Housemen and Maud Adams
In the early to mid-twenty-first century, Rollerball is a game which has replaced war and which provides an outlet for feelings of aggression and violence, and which, most importantly, is designed to show that no individual is greater than the whole. Team work is essential with each player accepting his place and working toward the greater good. Jonathan E (James Caan) has lasted longer than any other player in the sport. His career has spanned ten years during which he has established many records and, crucially, something of a following as a cult hero.
Life in general has become ordered and comfortable - the only price citizens are asked to pay is that they should accept without question executive decisions. Society is managed by a series of corporations, run by anonymous, wealthy and extremely powerful suited executives who put up a facade of acceptability, respectability and dignity to cover control and corruption.
Jonathan is pressed to retire and he doesn't understand why, so he resists and uncovers some unpleasant truths about society and the way it is run.
Men are seen as fairly high-minded, asexual, power-hungry conformists who are afraid to disagree or make waves, while women are by and large reduced to the status of playthings for whom relationships are "assignments", constituting an essential element of control and manipulation by corporate society.
Jonathan is the responsibility of Mr Bartholomew (John Houseman), and their conversations are charged with menace and eventually threat, subtle to begin with, but becoming quite unsubtle as desperation sets in because Jonathan is seen as a threat whose actions emphasise the importance of the individual, and who is seen as having a potential influence that could challenge that of corporate society.
There is a considerable contrast between the pace and style of the scenes within the rollerball dome and those out with it. Often criticised as dull and "boring", these scenes are nonetheless absolutely essential to the import of the piece and to truly understanding it. The "society" scenes are deliberately sterile and dull, contrasting with the action and excitement of rollerball, and giving the audience a taste of barren and dreary corporate existence.
The dull but dangerous reality of corporate society is brilliantly captured in the interview between Bartholomew and Jonathan after the first match. As Jonathan enters the comfortable but dull "office", he touches the decorative strands descending from the ceiling, only to cut his finger. In many ways, the discussion that follows sums up the film, with Jonathan resisting politely but firmly while Bartholomew appears reasonable but determined. Of course, the disagreement will carry over into action in the rollerball dome.
The greatest pressure on Jonathan to conform will come in the shape of deadly rule changes to the game, until in the end it becomes a barely disguised assassination attempt. Since no individual is to be seen as greater than the game, the game must destroy him.
Along the way, there are several other criticisms of
the way in which life may develop under a corporate umbrella. With his
ex-wife’s visit, Jonathan realises she is no longer the person he loved, but
even more importantly, he realises the extent to which the individual has lost
his or her freedom. He discovers that there are no longer any books, and that
all information from books is stored centrally in a computer which has become
"subjective" and so cannot discriminate adequately to give a clear
answer to a simple question. Of course, there is also the destruction of the
trees which indicates a decadent society devoted to business and indulgent pleasure
showing scant appreciation of nature and beauty.
When it comes to the last game, the corporations underestimate Jonathan, and man's need for a hero or a role-model, leading inexorably to the cult of the individual and the potential breakdown of corporate society as they see it.
Rather ironically, their aim would probably have
eventually been fulfilled without their efforts to ensure the outcome, and
indeed it is exactly because of their efforts that Jonathan becomes an even
greater hero and threatens their order.
Rollerball (2002)
Directed by John McTiernan
Screenplay by Larry Ferguson and John Pogue
Starring Rebecca Romijn, Chris Klein and
Jean Reno
Oh dear.
This version of "Rollerball" is youthful, exuberant and polished. It is also chaotic, shallow and inconsistent even within itself.
The scale and import of the original are gone. Rollerball has now become a game to attract huge television audiences and consequently to attract advertisers and money.
It is actually tiring to watch this version as we jump from one action scene to another but without the advantage of seeing character growth, plot development or purpose.
Even the rollerball dome is over elaborate and complex. There is plenty of action, but it is hard to tell the teams apart, far less tell who is winning or feel involved in any way.
At first, I thought this might have been done deliberately, in order to contrast with some genuine interest and development when a player was hurt. Unfortunately, there was something of a build-up to nothing as characters were not affected by trauma beyond a few seconds.
This production actually seemed camp, so devoid was it
of discipline and any serious intent.
My thanks for
taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
Characters and themes in "The Professionals" (1966)
Reflections
on characters and themes in "The Professionals"
Written
and directed by Richard Brooks from a novel by Frank O’Rourke
Starring
Lee Marvin, Burt Lancaster, Robert Ryan, Woody Strode,
Jack
Palance and Claudia Cardinale
This film is a
wonderful example of the combination of entertainment and reflection. The
characters are nicely fleshed out and are played to perfection by the cast.
Although it contains reflective, even philosophical passages on life and death,
it always remains positive and entertaining – a rare feat!
Working on several
levels, this late period western adventure presents us with the story of four
expert mercenaries hired to find and return the kidnapped wife (Maria, played
by Claudia Cardinale) of an ageing oil baron, J.W. Grant (Ralph Bellamy).
Rico Fardan (Lee
Marvin) and Bill Dolworth (Burt Lancaster) are the central characters as they
confront a former revolutionary colleague, Jesus Raza (Jack Palance), who
apparently kidnapped Mrs Grant. Rico and Bill join with Hans Ehrengard (Robert
Ryan) and Jake Sharp (Woody Strode) to undertake the mission. Though of
significantly different temperaments, these men work together as a team –
indeed together they form a whole, with Rico the cool and reasoned leader, Bill
the strength and spirit, Hans showing compassion and thought, and Jake skilful,
determined and unquestioning. Each will play his part in the completion of the
mission, though there are minor disagreements on the way, emphasising, perhaps,
the need for different approaches in the solution of any problem, whether by a
group or an individual.
It is clear from
the outset these are rugged, experienced and determined men who may be
disillusioned, but they are not cynical or heartless. They appear to be lacking
in purpose and perhaps even a place in society, and although they undertake the
mission principally for money, it is also because this is a "mission of
mercy" and a challenge to their professional capacities.
Raza, on the other
hand, is painted as a ruthless and heartless killer – an impression confirmed
by our heroes’ first encounter with his murderous men, and then compounded by
our first sighting of him as he callously shoots soldier prisoners in the back.
Having already
mixed rugged action scenes with questions concerning the group’s willingness to
kill men (contrasted with their desire to spare the lives of a group of
horses), it is at this point that director Richard Brooks starts to introduce
his "subtext", calling in to question our judgement of what is right
and wrong, and perhaps even more broadly questioning our motives for
involvement in a cause.
Just after we (and
our heroes) are appalled by Raza’s cold-blooded murder of his prisoners, we are
informed by Dolworth that his victims are in fact members of an elite squad of
killers and torturers who were responsible for the death of Fardan’s wife, causing
us to doubt our own evaluation of the situation and leading us to realise that
the situation is far more morally complex than we might have thought.
It is also at this
point that we are introduced to a concept which is essential to understanding
the film – when Dolworth talks of his role in the "revolution", and
how it became hard to tell who were the good guys and who were the bad guys. This
idea that "right" and "wrong" may not exist, and that each
"side" fights for what it believes in, ultimately using methods to
advance their cause which may lead to a blurring of the divisions between the
two is quite fundamental to the "message" of the film.
Much is made of
the "revolution", particularly in the scenes between Raza and
Dolworth during the pursuit which follows Maria’s "rescue" from
Raza’s clutches.
In an illuminating
and yet entertaining exchange between Raza and Dolworth, the reasons for
involvement in the revolution, and the abandonment of it, are debated.
Philosophically speaking, these scenes form the cornerstone of the entire film.
The revolution may
be viewed as a stand for principle in which (at least in the beginning) each
"side" fights for what it believes in. In keeping with the principles
of existentialism, right and wrong do not exist – there are only sides opposing
one another, each fighting for its cause and each offering its own account of
events and the "truth". It is recognised that men will become
disillusioned and abandon their cause, but Raza suggests they will return to it
as they feel the need to believe in something, and wish to give their lives
purpose and value.
Rico and his
compadres are such men. They have become disillusioned and have accepted this
job for money (the "professionals" of the title), yet in the end they
make a stand for principle at the expense of their fee, but to the credit of
their sense of honour and self-esteem. Having been manipulated by one man’s
account of events and also by the lure of wealth, they committed the very act
that was so heavily criticised at the start of the film, but they manage to
leave with a renewed sense of worth and purpose.
That the whole
takes place in desperately unsparing desert conditions while men scat around in
an attempt to give their lives meaning may also be viewed as evidence of a
somewhat existential outlook, and it is not unlike the inhospitable setting of
Clouzot’s "Wages of Fear" in which men also put their lives at risk
in an attempt to give them a purpose.
Given the
background and philosophical nature of several of the scenes, the film might
easily have become deadly serious or ponderous but Brooks manages to combine
reflections on life, death, and principle with humour and a constant positive
attitude. Many allusions are made to pain and death, yet these characters have
little time for brooding regret, concentrating instead on fulfilment of the
task in hand. As an ex-marine, Brooks was perhaps well placed to provide us
with this exciting yet contemplative adventure which never ceases to accentuate
the positive and the fact that we give our lives meaning by virtue of fighting
for a cause we believe in, even if ultimately "right" and
"wrong" do not exist.
In the end,
however, the conclusion is that love is the governing factor. It is for love
that our heroes are dispatched to Mexico in the first place, it is for love
that Raza pursues the kidnapped Maria, and it might even be argued that it is
for love (of a cause) that Raza and his men fight the revolution. Even the
almost-cynical Bill Dolworth sees there is more to life than he imagined as the
result of recognising the power of love!
The performances
are excellent throughout, with each of the lead actors playing parts which seem
to have been made for them. Lee Marvin exudes the quiet controlled command of a
disillusioned (and even pained) professional, while Burt Lancaster looks like
he thoroughly enjoyed playing the life-loving Bill Dolworth who (re)discovers a
purpose beyond immediate gratification.
My thanks for taking the time
to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
Tuesday, 16 December 2025
Characters and themes in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"
Reflections on "One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s
Nest"
Directed by Milos Forman
Screenplay by Lawrence Hauben and Bo Goldman,
based on the novel by Ken Kesey
Starring Jack Nicholson, Louise Fletcher, William
Redfield et al.
For me,
"Cuckoo’s Nest" is concerned principally with the place of the
individual in society and the means by which certain elements of society seek
to impose order and exercise control, sometimes at the expense of the
individual’s (mental) health, but certainly at the expense of independence and
freedom.
The
hospital of the film/book is society in microcosm, with the patients displaying
(or representing) problems in coping with life and the pressures they feel in
the exercise of their social functions. However, it also represents the ways
(discreet and quite indiscreet) in which "society" applies pressure
on the individual to conform to what is regarded as the "norm" in
terms of behaviour and attitude.
An
essential point to note is that the story is not concerned with so-called
"lunatics". These men have not lost their minds – they are simply
having difficulty in coping with the problems and pressures thrown at them by
society. As such they inspire pathos, sympathy and compassion. More importantly
still, we could all succumb to similar pressures and end up in a similar
position.
Behind
the outwardly caring and helpful façade of (mental) health care lies a subtle
and widespread attempt to enforce compliance and acceptance of authority. This
is achieved not just through the clear manifestation of physical discipline and
control, but also (and more effectively) through the use of "therapy"
in which the analysis of a problem not only assumes the very existence of and
responsibility for such a problem, but actually promotes and aggravates it as
patients reflect and brood on their problems, doing nothing to diminish them
and instead blowing them out of all proportion.
Into
this centre comes Randall Patrick McMurphy (are we to read significance into
the initials RPM?), a highly sociable free spirit who seems to offer an
alternative to inward-dwelling reflection in the form of socialisation. He
treats his fellow inmates as equals, is not judgmental (beyond displaying human
and perfectly understandable frustration), accepting his new friends for what
they are and offering them the chance to forget their problems, or at least to
keep them in proportion as he involves them in one defiant scheme after
another.
In
contrast, Nurse Ratched is a tool of society, used to exercise order and
control. This she achieves less by direct confrontation and more by subtle
means such as playing on and maintaining character weaknesses, undermining
self-confidence, and constantly "rubbing salt in open wounds" through
therapy sessions, the consequence of which is to maintain the malleability and
suggestibility of her patients.
She may
represent any element of society which seeks to oppress or "depress"
other elements, rather than being seen merely as the instrument of bureaucratic
control. There are many who delight in the weaknesses of others and who derive
pleasure and strength from the torment they inflict. Nurse Ratched, and indeed
the entire hospital may be seen as representative of coercive and intolerant
elements of society at large.
Another
"message" to come out of the film is that we can change the structure
of our society – if we have the courage and determination to do so.
R. P.
McMurphy is one such determined man. He is a natural, highly sociable free
spirit who challenges Nurse Ratched’s authority because he resents by instinct
her frequently underhand tactics of maintaining authority. It is worth noting
that it is not so much order itself he rejects (he may even see the necessity
of some order), but more the ways in which order is achieved, and perhaps the
extremes to which Nurse Ratched is prepared to go.
His
determination and actions reflect a relatively simple man who is just what he
appears to be. He is open and has no "side". He is mischievous and
fun-seeking, yet he is thoughtful and sensitive to the condition and plight of
his fellow inmates. When he acts, he acts by nature rather than by reflection.
He fails to see the bigger picture and certainly does not consider matters of
principle. He acts simply according to his conscience and does what he feels is
right. Harding and the others would perhaps like to be able to act in this way,
but they have questioned themselves (and doubted themselves) to such an extent
that they have lost confidence and can no longer function as "normal"
members of society. McMurphy remains unfettered by such considerations and as
such represents a considerable challenge to the domineering elements of
society, though he himself fails to understand what he represents to both the
hospital administration and his fellow inmates.
It
seems to me that McMurphy means and does no great harm, but he is a constant
thorn in the side of the authorities as he doesn’t take life too seriously,
while those around him (authorities and inmates) appear to have created
problems for themselves exactly in taking life too seriously and allowing
matters to get out of proportion.
Nurse
Ratched appears to be caring and well intentioned – she may even believe that
in thwarting McMurphy’s plans for change and various other schemes she is
acting for the greater good of her patients. However, as McMurphy’s challenges
become ever more "dangerous", she shows her mettle and doesn’t flinch
from taking measures to ensure continued adherence to the rules. Indeed, it is
only at the end that we see just how far she will go to enforce her authority,
casting aside individual success and welfare merely in an effort to establish
her own position.
We do
not feel that Nurse Ratched is warm and caring. She is polite and pleasant, but
cold. This is a job she does well, but it remains that – a job. She fulfils her
function and is very proud of her position of authority, pride which leads her
to place her position above the well-being of her patients. So incensed is she
at the undermining of her position that she ignores the clear progress made by
Billy and sets about restoring her order – at the expense of Billy’s
improvement, indeed of his life.
The
film has been accused of being morally unambiguous compared to the book. In the
book Kesey cleverly used descriptions provided by the mentally ill Chief to
communicate atmosphere and a general sense of being "lost" and
hopelessness, but McMurphy’s arrival leads to clarity, hope and purpose. My
recollection of the book is not one of any particular moral ambiguity, indeed
the Chief’s "fog" implies disapproval of the "system",
though there may be more sympathy for, and an attempt to understand Nurse
Ratched, while in the film her character is hardly "explored", but is
rather a sort of gauge by which to judge the more rigid and blinkered aspects
of society. Nonetheless both the book and the film are clearly travelling in
the same direction, and the film script/performances may even have added
greater humanity and sympathy than were present in the book.
It has
been suggested, and I have frequently thought that McMurphy may be regarded as
an almost Christ-like figure.
Let us
consider some of the reasons for this:
McMurphy
challenges the status quo, and threatens to subvert authority.
He
"cures" the sick (by inspiring confidence, the lack of which has
caused most of the inmates’ problems).
His
fellow inmates may be regarded as his "disciples".
He is
"betrayed" by Billy, as Judas betrayed Jesus.
There
is a "last supper" of sorts.
McMurphy
dies for others’ "sins", or at least in trying to help them overcome
their "sins".
In
death, McMurphy inspires the others to believe in themselves and in something
greater than the imposed status quo.
Although
McMurphy dies, it is nonetheless a spiritually uplifting ending. His spirit
continues in the hearts and minds of his fellow inmates (and the audience),
especially the Chief who has grown in confidence enough to be able to escape
and live his own life. In death McMurphy’s spirit and inspiration have
developed well beyond any influence he might have been able to exercise as a
"patient".
The
film
Both
the script and direction managed to mix humour, pathos, tension, sociology, and
even (to some extent) religion! It had, of course, excellent base material by
Ken Kesey, but it was brilliantly brought to life (and perhaps even clarified
for some, though I can understand the various qualms expressed about the book
to film adaptation) with love and respect.
The
performances of the "lunatics" are uniformly excellent, and none more
than that of Jack Nicholson as McMurphy. The producers of the film were on
potentially dangerous ground given the context and the content of the film –
they could easily have fallen into sentimentality or might have created a
"cold" film about treatment of the mentally ill. As it is, our
emotions are fully engaged without drifting into sentimentality, and we feel
great sympathy and pathos for the characters. These characters could also quite
easily have been sacrificed to the themes of the film, but the script allows
the themes to arise from the conflict between the characters, rather than have
the characters illustrate the themes of the film.
It
would probably not have been too difficult to elicit sympathy through these
characters, nor to make a hero of a rebel in an unfair regime, but to achieve
this with humour, warmth, and above all in creating a depth of feeling and
caring for these people (and a genuine sense of shock and loss when McMurphy is
killed) is a marvelous achievement, and it is this emotional element (for which
all involved in the production should share credit) which elevates the material
to the highest level. Our emotional engagement allows what could have been a
dry or intellectual artistic exercise to evolve into a profoundly human tale of
love, tolerance and understanding.
I think
the music (by Jack Nitzsche) deserves a most honourable mention – not only does
it underline emotion, it enhances it and even creates in itself an emotional
response to a situation. I’m thinking particularly of the Chief’s escape where
the music captures loss, defiance, strength and nobility.
My
thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some
value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)



































