What's the AFI Project, you ask? For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here: http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx
A Clockwork Orange is on the following AFI lists:
The Original Top 100 (#46)
100 Most Heart-Pounding Movies (#21)
100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains (Alex De Large is the #12 villain)
The Revised Top 100 (#70)
10 Top 10's (#4 Science Fiction)
I watched A Clockwork Orange instantly on Netflix using the little TV streaming device offered by that service, which I bought to accompany my new large-screen TV. The whole experience was thrilling - watching a crazy, eye-poppingly colored film in high definition for the first time! Of course, I digress. I had intended to read the novel on which the film is based, written by Anthony Burgess, first, but, sadly, reading books nowadays for me has taken a back seat to other free-time activities, such as consuming films. As such, I had no idea what to expect again, though I knew from hearsay about the film that it was one big long strain of weird. So, if anything, I expected to be treated to weird on my new TV, in large, crystal clear detail. In that, I was not disappointed.
A Clockwork Orange was co-adapted, produced, and directed by Stanley Kubrick, marking his third and final entry on the AFI's Original list (after 2001: A Space Odyssey and Dr. Strangelove). The central character is teenaged Londoner Alex De Large (Malcolm McDowell), who also narrates his tale. Alex spends his days pursuing his pleasures, which include "ultraviolence," rape, and getting high (so the film implies) on milk at the local milkbar as well as music, particularly Beethoven, and enjoying these fine hedonistic pursuits with his "droogs," i.e. his fellow gang members. After a particularly tiring night of these activities, including the beating of a writer (Patrick Magee) and Alex's rape of his wife to the crooned tune of "Singin' in the Rain," his pals decide that Alex isn't shooting high or far enough and begin to assert their displeasure on the subject. Fearing a hostile takeover, Alex turns some of his skill for violence on his friends, which quells them for a time; however, when Alex ultimately murders a Cat Lady (Miriam Karlin) with one of her phallic scupltures (in this case, an exact replica of the phallis), his droogs leave him for the authorities to find. Alex is then imprisoned and sentenced to 14 years. After some time in the big house, Alex becomes aware of an experimental procedure called Ludovico behavioral modification, which is being touted by the new political regime in England as the way to solve the crime problem. The procedure essentially works to drug Alex up into feeling physically ill while he is exposed to violent and hypersexual imagery - though it also has the unintended side effect of averting him to his beloved Beethoven when the composer's esteemed Ninth Symphony is played in the background of one of the films. The procedure is also a grand success; Alex is conditioned against violence, rape, and the Ninth, and he is released into the world. The trouble is, he no longer has any defenses, and his prior victims, including his family and the writer, victimize him in vengeance, apathy, or fear. When Alex involuntarily stumbles upon the writer's home, cold and alone one night, the writer realizes who he is (after Alex starts singing "Singin' in the Rain" in the bath) and finds out about his aversion to the Ninth. When Alex takes extreme measure to avoid the excruciating physical response the symphony invokes, the media sensationalizes it, and the poltical order intervenes once again in an effort to save face.
When I first began watching A Clockwork Orange, I wasn't sure I was going to like it all that much. For starters, the film could easily be subtitled "Kubrick's ode to the phallis." The costumes of Alex and his droogs feature prominently placed rubber guards at their waists and below, which, to me, looked like external representations of what they were covering up. The imagery with which Alex surrounded himself was hypersexual, including a statue of four Jesuses with their "members" in gold; photographs or paintings of naked women lining most interior walls, and sculptures of the same in the milkbar; his pet snake, Basil, cozying up headfirst to the painting of a woman on her back, legs open, and nothing on; and so on. Not to mention the fact that the rape scenes (or attempted rape scenes) feature completely nude women being wrestled to a state of submission. The images were, no doubt, intended to shock, and to establish Alex and his friends' sociopathy, and they worked, almost too well.
In addition, the first half of the movie (aside from these images), experienced some inconsistent pacing. When the film was slower and more methodical - such as when Alex was at his home or chatting up the two ladies with whom he eventually enjoys a romp in the sack - I actually felt more inclined to doze at the same general ponts in the film on two attempts (I tried to watch a first time and then started the film over the next day for a second attempt that was more successful).
After allowing the film to play to its conclusion, however, I realized how clever the film was and how Kubrick's genius manifested yet again. The shocking images, accentuated by bright color- orange included - and using camera lenses that rendered them almost surreal, were nothing to the commentary and shocking responses offered by the government and Alex's victims once he was a "free man." In addition, the ending was one of the most intellectually satisfying conclusions of a film that I have ever seen. I understand that the ending of the film was quite different from the ending of Burgess' novel, so different, in fact, that the entire thrust of the film might have been changed if the book ending had been used. As it stands, the images that Kubrick created with the help of his art directors, cinematographers, and costumers emphasized the underlying themes and social commentary no doubt offered by the novel and punctuated the film ending to give it a haunting quality. The film sticks with me, almost 24 hours later, because of it.
Malcolm McDowell's performance was amazing. I can't believe this guy is sometmes Linderman on the TV show Heroes. Thirty-five years ago, he made the anti-hero and sociopath Alex De Large charismatic and occasionally sympathetic, particularly after he undergoes his treatment. After being subjected to another beating by his erstwhile droogs, now police officers, and the revenge of the writer, the viewer almost wants him to cast off his conditioning and retaliate the way he used to do, which is a troubling reaction to invoke from the viewer and powerfully elicited by McDowell's eerie ability to switch from full-on, coldly calculating madman to somewhat helpless and forlorn outcast. The false eyelashes he wears over one eye when he's gallivanting around London are iconic and used to creepy effect by McDowell's more unsettling facial expressions.
Still, I wouldn't call this film Kubrick's masterpiece by any stretch, as fantastic and creative as it turned out to be. The dystopian future of A Clockwork Orange looked similar to the idyllic future of 2001, at least in its furniture, and the fact that Kubrick, again, underscored the film with predominantly classical works (and this is apart from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony) was not lost on me. Also, the prominently placed soundtrack album of 2001 in the record store scene did not help, and I immediately reacted to that image, feeling it was more a mark of Kubrick's ego than a clever nod to a film gone by. Additionally, as I mentioned, the pacing of this film was surprisingly inconsistent, though it settled into a more deliberate and even pace in the second half. Furthermore, though I understand why the images were used, I'm not sure that, at least, the scene in which the rival gang attempts the rape of a woman prior to Alex's gang entering the scene, and the ensuing brawl, was entirely necessary or serviced the story, except to show the rampant decay and widespread violence or lack of maturity on the part of youth in society. Other violent crimes could have been used, particularly given the scene with the writer's wife so close in chronology, to show the same point. Granted, I'm no Stanley Kubrick, but some of the images included for their shock value crossed a few lines for me and, possibly, for the AFI. This film tumbled 24 spots on the Revised list.
In the end, however, I enjoyed A Clockwork Orange on an intellectual level, as it translated the novel's apparent commentary on morality, freedom, choice, behavioral modification, the media, and the political machine to film quite effectively and in an appreciably clever manner. It was powerful and disturbing, though sometimes too disturbing. Due to this quality, the film does not pass the test. I feel as though watching it once suits me just fine, and now, I'd much rather go back and read the novel, which apparently utilizes the funny slang Burgess invented (and the film used to an extent) more prominently. In doing so, I could revisit the messages and see how the book's ending affects the story. As to ratings, I feel A Clockwork Orange deserves an 8 for having minor flaws but being very good. I would also offer a warning to would-be watchers: if you don't like watching films with graphic sex and violence, avoid this film at all costs. Its artistic value aside, A Clockwork Orange would not be palatable for a lot of people, and I don't know if its initial X-rating stands today, but I can see why the film was given it, and this is not a film I can make a case for seeing anyway in defense of Kubrick's artistry. If you're looking to explore Kubrick's films, I think you can get a fine sampling from his filmography, give this one a pass, and still be alright. In satire, which A Clockwork Orange ultimately becomes, Dr. Strangelove is a superior film and has no graphically objectionable imagery. As for me, 2001 is still my reigning favorite, and though he cheekily referred to that film in this one, he did so with good reason - I think that film's his masterpiece even if this film offered a darkly fantastic message that was as satisfying as it was unsettling.