Writer: Maia Novi
Director: Michael Breslin
Hot from off-Broadway success, Maia Novi’s energetic autobiographical drama chronicles her brief plunge into the mental health system after the pressure of ‘not being Argentinian enough’ sent her spiralling from her Yale drama course.
On the verge of presenting her acting graduation showcase, she acquiesced to a pharmaceutical intervention to calm her nerves and woke up in a psych ward. Wisely, she took notes as she strove to meet the criterion for discharge: appearing normal. Her observations underpin this darkly comedic examination of drama school stresses, othering, mothering, the medicalisation of anxiety, and the dubious, humorous aspects of psychiatric care.
There’s always the risk, with writing yourself into your own play, of dominating proceedings, but Novi lets her four well-cast co-players shine. They’re always whirling around her, doubling up as directors, students, inmates, doctors and agents, each with their own fully developed characters and set pieces.
At the outset, they hand Novi popcorn as she describes her first trip to the cinema in Argentina to see Spider-Man. “Everything American was so saturated… HD… VIP! As if I’d been living in a country two steps behind”.
A buzzing sets in, reminiscent of flickering fluorescent tubes: bright lighting that evokes hospitalisation and madness throughout the piece. At this stage, it heralds the magic realist arrival of invasive ‘Acting Bug’ (Harrison Osterfield), a topless, cavorting Kafkaesque Chippendale, preening his proboscis in full fly mode.
He infects Novi with an insane desire to be a professional actor, prompting a drama school odyssey. She heads to France, represented by wall-encountering mime artists. “I don’t speak the language!” “We don’t care! We can offer you a certificate in acting.” Not good enough: onwards to London, where the accents at drama school are decidedly plummy: “How’s your Received Pronunciation?” “Fine: I received it from my mother.” Still sensing deficiency – “I had to aim higher!” – Novi flies out to New Haven: Yale. There’s comment in her accent there, too: “It’s unplaceable… unmarketable.”
She’s advised to practise American by adopting a mantra in the voice of ‘Best Actress’ Gwyneth Paltrow, introducing her morning Goop routine. Enough to send anyone insane… and leading to awful Gwynnie-induced insomnia that sees Novi accepting her fateful first psychiatric dose.
Having regained consciousness, bewildered, and in generic garb, she meets young inmates Aiquila (Kalifa Taylor), Jacob (Max Percy) and Eduardo (Harrison Osterfield), who dismiss her as old and weird. With her visa in jeopardy if she can’t attend the Yale graduation showcase, Novi realises she must win them round with Jell-O (youth psych ward currency) and scheming persuasion: they’ve all had recurrent spells inside, so must know how to get out.
Calls to her parents (played with eccentric energy by Ella Blackburn and Max Percy, who usefully translate each other’s Spanish) are meted out in brief bursts, and it turns out they’re troubled too, bickering with Novi and downplaying her condition: “I had it much worse”, says mother, before hanging up.
Other potential causes of Novi’s condition are shown in flashback. There’s a high-stakes audition for the role of Eva Perón in Evita by a pretentious, mid-Atlantic director (“Let’s do this exercise Sir Ridley gave me”) that Harrison Osterfield endows with convincing creepiness (“Young Evita is going to look a little malnourished”). He urges Novi to be authentic, just not in Spanish, or her avidly honed Paltrow-speak. Likewise, the doltish jock Novi meets on a blind date fails to see her as an individual, just a Latino cut-out. Her agent, Tina, played with hilarious cavalier callousness by Blackburn, offers only unsettling comparison with more successful clients, and jealousy-engendering lists of all the fun she’s having: “Paris, Telluride, Sundance…”
These episodes are intercut with group therapy sessions, mediated by a white coated medic (Blackburn, beaming with positivity: “You know the drill, team: goal and an offering!”), Jacob’s inappropriate rapping, Eduardo’s extreme behaviour, interviews with Novi’s box-ticking shrink (fleetingly, when he’s not on holiday) and interludes of whirling, cocaine-induced, forehead-to-floor-banging madness. There’s also quiet contemplation courtesy of Aiquila, whose endearing honesty and advice do most to help Novi find a route through her situation and out the other side.
The rapid-fire, razor-sharp observations – genuinely funny and on point in this era of diagnosis-seeking youth – elicit frequent laughter and gasps of recognition. Novi is an absolute force of nature, and the rest of the cast match her exuberant intensity with space-filling physicality.
It’s impressive ensemble stuff, with the sort of American-level verve and polish that drove Novi forward, and mad. Those involved in theatre and mental health will find plenty to chew on and laugh at, especially as One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest fades into history.
The action can be a little too fast and choppy – a bit too much going on – and the ward scenes aren’t terribly shocking or affecting, but perhaps this reflects creditable adherence to Novi’s original notes. Maybe added ‘zhuzh’ could arise from making more of the elements that give the play its name: the surreal ‘Acting Bug’ and the Argentinian backstory. Extra specificity around the blindingly charismatic Novi’s formative years would be welcome: judging by current form, she may well end up as famous as Eva P.
Runs until 3 October 2025
