A Clockwork OrangeWhat makes a man "good"? Is it something in the soul which compels us to show kindness and love to our fellow man? Or is it the fear of punishment, fear of confrontation which deters us from evil? Are people "good" or "evil", or do they simply have a predilection toward one kind of behavior over another? A Clockwork Orange follows young Alex (Malcolm McDowell), a late teens misfit and hooligan, given to bouts of "ultra-violence"...rape, theft, assault, and more. When Alex is apprehended by the police for the murder of a woman and sent to prison, he volunteers for the "Ludovico Technique", an experimental procedure designed to "cure" his evil ways...but at what cost?
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Alex's life before his hard times was one of drugs, sex, and terrible mischief...in other words, a typical teenager (well, maybe not that typical). The film starts off with a thunderous bang; within the first several minutes of the film, we are subjected to Alex and his droogs getting high in a milk bar, driving dangerously, viciously attacking the homeless, and committing atrocities upon a hapless couple out in their rustic retreat. The opening of A Clockwork Orange is shocking by any view, but for a movie which released at the onset of the relaxing of standards regarding depictions of sex and violence in the early seventies, it must have seemed outright pornographic; it was described as such by a multitude of critics in the day. But Alex and company's excess and arguably spoiled manner is portrayed as the result of a generation raised by the television and cinema, where Alex's antics share some similar elements with Wild West bar room brawls, with high-speed chases and stylish (or at least garish) costumes, even aping Gene Kelly, with the most inappropriate rendition of "Singin' in the Rain" ever conceived. Alex and his ilk speak in a slang which share some diction with Russian, a kind of not-too-subtle implication that the dystopian near-future which Alex is a part of is heavily influenced by the practices of communism and socialism, the kind of dehumanizing elimination of the individual which is so appalling to a society conditioned to value individualism. Alex's language also bears a kind of flourish and witty mix of the archaic and stylized which reminds me of the "street speak" of Verona, present among the gangs in plays by William Shakespeare, like "Romeo and Juliet". And Alex is something of a "Romeo", more so in the film compared to the novel from which A Clockwork Orange was adapted by Anthony Burgess. When Alex solicits a pair of young girls at a record store to return to his parent's apartment for an afternoon of music and debauchery, the film's interpretation is comically set to the William Tell Overture, and the women are clearly over the age of eighteen. In the book, Alex practically molests a pair of underage girls, luring them away from the store; although Alex is also underage himself, this hardly shares the same context as the event in the film.
One of the more particular questions which has concerned aficionados of the film and novel is the "absence" of the last chapter of the book from the film--namely, the final chapter which follows years after the events of the Ludovico Treatment have been reversed, and Alex has been running amok once again. He meets one of his former droogs--one who didn't attempt to drown him as a newly-minted member of the millicents (police)--who has moved on from crime and into a stable life, and Alex decides to abandon his wanton ways to ease into adulthood. Now, where's the fun in that? Filmmaker Stanley Kubrick had crafted a multitude of beloved and complex masterpieces, almost all adapted from literature in some capacity, but not as strictly faithful to the source material as one might think. In the context of the film, Alex is a monster, but an impish, even charming one; he commits terrible harm to others, but somehow--be it the accompanying classical music or his beguiling smirk--we not only tolerate him, we find ourselves on the verge of sympathy for him. Perhaps this is not the case for everyone...in fact, I've often found that audience reaction varies so greatly regarding A Clockwork Orange, that if you want to find out a little more about someone than they wish to tell you, show them this movie and gauge their reactions. The dire circumstances which were only implied in the novel to be ironic or somewhat darkly comic are often open to full-blown ridicule in the film, cynical to the point of absurdity about "modern" ideas for society including the morally-questionable practice of behavioral rehabilitation, the politically-motivated practice of prison restructuring, ineffectual parenting, and so much more. Even bits of dialogue are self-referential and tongue-in-cheek with its multiple meanings, sayings like "leave it alone, it's a very important work of art" could even be applied as a mix of ironic and self-deprecating defense for the movie against its detractors and critics. Double meanings are revisited periodically to draw connections between seemingly unlikely situations, like when the chaplain (Godfrey Quigley) indicates the prisoners' inevitable drifting "in and out" of institutions, not long after our initial portrayal of the old "in and out" bore a much different implication. Alex's history of violence makes him a preferred candidate for the experimental treatment which shares the name with his favorite composer of classical music, Ludwig van Beethoven. Unfortunately for Alex, the mental conditioning leaves him with traumatic associations as a result against violence and "the dreaded ninth symphony". When things sour publicly for the treatment as a means to remedy crime, Alex is visited by the Minister of the Interior, "Frederick" (Anthony Sharp), who attempts to recruit Alex to their cause to keep him quiet. This great metaphor of political corruption and self-serving damage control is further accentuated by Frederick's snake-like suit he wears to meet the invalid Alex, leaving us with that last, great, sardonic portrait of politicians as the most venomous criminals of them all.
Recommended for: Fans of biting social criticism with terrible violence and sexual assault used as a backdrop for the corruption of our society as a whole. But A Clockwork Orange is not merely content to point the finger at one or a few parties, it goes so far as to give the finger to all who avoid culpability. Viddy well, indeed.
One of the more particular questions which has concerned aficionados of the film and novel is the "absence" of the last chapter of the book from the film--namely, the final chapter which follows years after the events of the Ludovico Treatment have been reversed, and Alex has been running amok once again. He meets one of his former droogs--one who didn't attempt to drown him as a newly-minted member of the millicents (police)--who has moved on from crime and into a stable life, and Alex decides to abandon his wanton ways to ease into adulthood. Now, where's the fun in that? Filmmaker Stanley Kubrick had crafted a multitude of beloved and complex masterpieces, almost all adapted from literature in some capacity, but not as strictly faithful to the source material as one might think. In the context of the film, Alex is a monster, but an impish, even charming one; he commits terrible harm to others, but somehow--be it the accompanying classical music or his beguiling smirk--we not only tolerate him, we find ourselves on the verge of sympathy for him. Perhaps this is not the case for everyone...in fact, I've often found that audience reaction varies so greatly regarding A Clockwork Orange, that if you want to find out a little more about someone than they wish to tell you, show them this movie and gauge their reactions. The dire circumstances which were only implied in the novel to be ironic or somewhat darkly comic are often open to full-blown ridicule in the film, cynical to the point of absurdity about "modern" ideas for society including the morally-questionable practice of behavioral rehabilitation, the politically-motivated practice of prison restructuring, ineffectual parenting, and so much more. Even bits of dialogue are self-referential and tongue-in-cheek with its multiple meanings, sayings like "leave it alone, it's a very important work of art" could even be applied as a mix of ironic and self-deprecating defense for the movie against its detractors and critics. Double meanings are revisited periodically to draw connections between seemingly unlikely situations, like when the chaplain (Godfrey Quigley) indicates the prisoners' inevitable drifting "in and out" of institutions, not long after our initial portrayal of the old "in and out" bore a much different implication. Alex's history of violence makes him a preferred candidate for the experimental treatment which shares the name with his favorite composer of classical music, Ludwig van Beethoven. Unfortunately for Alex, the mental conditioning leaves him with traumatic associations as a result against violence and "the dreaded ninth symphony". When things sour publicly for the treatment as a means to remedy crime, Alex is visited by the Minister of the Interior, "Frederick" (Anthony Sharp), who attempts to recruit Alex to their cause to keep him quiet. This great metaphor of political corruption and self-serving damage control is further accentuated by Frederick's snake-like suit he wears to meet the invalid Alex, leaving us with that last, great, sardonic portrait of politicians as the most venomous criminals of them all.
Recommended for: Fans of biting social criticism with terrible violence and sexual assault used as a backdrop for the corruption of our society as a whole. But A Clockwork Orange is not merely content to point the finger at one or a few parties, it goes so far as to give the finger to all who avoid culpability. Viddy well, indeed.