The movie I chose to watch was "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," a movie that I've seen several times, though not for at least a year. I chose this title for no particular reason, and even debated whether or not I wanted such a dramatic and tragic film to help me relax. For the most part, it is the film's ending that brought me to write this post. I'm not sure how many of you have seen this movie, or what you remember of it, but the last scene is one that I find incredibly disturbing on a level that extends well beyond the actual moment. (I'm afraid to write spoilers, but I'm sure that if you don't know what I'm talking about you're intrigued enough to seek out the movie and see it for yourself.)
To get to the point of my post, this ending has a strong effect on me every time I watch it, but my reaction now is not nearly as overwhelming as it was the first time I saw it. My initial viewing of the movie left me in tears for hours, and I was so disturbed and sickened by the fate of McMurphy that I actually vomited. (The base of my reaction was much deeper than simply seeing McMurphy, but to philosophize on that would take more time than I can give at the moment.) As I said, I no longer have such reactions to the film. I cry, of course, but only for a few well-controlled minutes, which I think is probably the normal reaction. But watching it a few nights ago made me think of that first time and also made me wonder if any other movie had elicited such an intense and consuming reaction from me.
I couldn't think of any, but I wonder if any of you have had any similar responses to anything in movies, or other media for that matter. I don't mean similar as in necessarily negative, but similar in terms of intensity. Has anything you've watched in movies, read in literature, seen in art, or heard in music struck you in such a powerful and particular way that you are forced to succumb to (what was for me) an uncontrollable emotion?
6 comments:
for the life of me i cannot remember the end of cookoos nest-he goes to rehab, hates his favorite song, is released, relapses- then what?
but as for strong reactions, i saw the original land before time as a very young child- perhaps 2 or 3- it came out around the time i was that old. anyways everytime i saw little foots mother die, when he thinks he sees his mother and the end credits song i would start balling uncontrollably for a decent amount of time
nevertheless, i insisted to watch this movie often, i had littlefoot bed sheets and puppets and a great big stuffed littlefoot
i was a little girl who liked dinosaurs as a kid instead of princesses- i found out that when i was a little older
SPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILER
Here's the ending: After attempting to strangle the head nurse, who is debatably the most evil character in film history, McMurphy is given a frontal lobotomy.
There are two stories that reduce me to sobbing every time, and they're very similar. One is Flowers for Algernon (I've read it and watched two film versions and I sob every single time) and a guilty pleasure movie called At First Sight which [THERE BE SPOILERS!] is basically the same plot of Flowers for Algernon replacing intelligence with vision. Gets me every damn time.
I suppose--to philosophize over it--it's the fact that the characters have no control over their lack of whatever quality, then they get the bittersweet chance to taste it, but only temporarily. Watching them slowly lose it again and revert to their original states is more tragic than if they had never grasped it at all. And yet, those moments are precious.
i got one flew over- confused with a clockwork orange
ive never seen coockoos nest- i guess i need to see it now.
I've only ever read Flowers for Algernon, and am not familiar with the other, but I can certainly imagine such a reaction. As for The Land Before Time, I never cried when Little Foot's mother died until my more recent viewings, which I think had something to do with the fact that I went through a period of obsessing over the eventual death of my parents . . .
What bothers me most about One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is not only the tragedy that befalls such a charismatic man, but also the idea of how ultimately simple it is to remove everything that makes us who we are. The thought of someone removing a part of my brain and transforming me into some sort of breathing vegetable is terrifying. I believe that we are entirely biological (we were not created, and we have no soul or spirit), and the idea of our "essence" being nothing more than some tissue and complex connections is dizzying, and the idea of someone else taking control of that is perhaps my biggest fear. In the context of the movie, I also find it incredibly disturbing that McMurphy's plan to fake insanity backfired so tragically; that he recognized the corrupt and detrimental system and was punished for acting against it; and that his lobotomy was considered the only way address and correct his actions, as was the case with real mental patients many years ago. All of it enrages and saddens me, and if I think about it too much I find my mind kindof paralyzed. It's hard to explain . . . Like trying to contemplate the infinite space of the universe or something . . .
I've only read cuckoo's nest and not seen the movie, but I agree with you that frontal labotomies are terrifying. I read the book a long time ago, and while I remember it being disturbing and powerful, I can't remember very many specifics (other than several of the main characters). It's horrifying that labotomies used to be so common and heralded as a cure for so many things. What it cures is meaningful thought. Personhood.
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