Saturday, March 28

A Clockwork Orange





I've always admired this movie. Like most Kubrick films (particularly his later films, beginning with 2001: A Space Odyssey), it is completely unlike any other film ever made. But no matter how many time I see it, I still struggle with it. I've never been convinced that I really get it. Of course, I could certainly say the same thing about 2001, but I don't mind it so much in that case. Here, there is a strong narrative that isn't particularly difficult to follow. The story presents itself to viewers in the way we normally expect in film.

Of course, the content of that story is striking, because we're being presented with a main character who is so utterly despicable. Here is a man, Alex (Malcolm McDowell), who is not only completely without conscience in his pursuit of rape and pointless violence, but also intelligent, charming, and ultimately sympathetic. He is perhaps the most extraordinary monster ever depicted on film. He makes Hannibal Lecter look like a cheap schlock merchant (which is precisely what Lecter ultimately became).

The first act of the film establishes the true depth of Alex's villainy. The visuals are all off-putting and garish, and the performances are completely over-the-top. There's nothing realistic about the presentation, and although that does create a certain distance between the film and its audience, it doesn't lessen the power of the relentless procession of brutality that comprises the first act. The violence is completely senseless. There are a few lines where Alex and his droogs talk about making money from beating people and robbing them, and there's a brief shot of Alex putting his money and stolen goods into a drawer full of similar items. But nothing is ever made of this, and there's never any sense that Alex is actually motivated by personal gain. Quite the opposite. What makes Alex such an effective and disturbing character is that he simply enjoys violence for its own sake.

The second act of the film finds Alex in prison for murder, where he manipulates his way into being a test subject for an experimental procedure guaranteed to get him out much earlier than his sentence would normally allow. The Ludovico treatment is a kind of aversion therapy, whereby Alex is made to feel sick while watching scenes of violence, rape, and brutality. The section sets up the essential moral and philosophical question of the film: whether morality lies in the absence of evil deeds, or rather in the presence of good intentions. The Ludovico process does nothing to change Alex's nature. He remains as monstrous as ever he was. But it makes him physically incapable of violence and brutality.

The final act of the film plays as a kind of repeat of the first, only in reverse. Now, released back into the world, Alex happens to meet all of his old victims again, and this time he is victimized by them. His parents don't want him back, his old droogs assault him and nearly kill him, and eventually he is found out by Mr. Alexander (Patrick Magee), the old writer who was forced to watch as Alex raped his wife (Adrienne Corri).

It seems that without free will, which in this context can be defined as the power to do evil, Alex is completely helpless. First of all, he is not truly reformed. He is simply rendered incapable of pursuing his own wicked desires. But moreover, he is not even able to defend himself. His various attackers in this third act are all motivated by vengeance, and they are all every bit as brutal to him as he had previously been to them. Violence is portrayed in all three segments of the film as a dehumanizing influence, regardless of whether one is the aggressor, recipient, or even simply an observer.

The film ends on a disturbingly ambiguous note, as the status quo has been returned. What this means, of course, is that Alex is once again free to pursue his campaign of senseless violence. What was in act one an intolerable situation which needed to be addressed becomes, at the end of the film, the closest thing we get to a happy ending.

As disturbing as the film is in its presentation of violence, it is also darkly funny. Malcolm McDowell brings so much charm and charisma to the role that it is impossible not to enjoy his antics, as repulsive as they are. There is a playful, mischievous quality to his attacks, which is best demonstrated by his response to Bible study while in prison. Even as the prison chaplain (Godfrey Quigley) is praising and encouraging his apparent change of heart, Alex imagines torturing Christ and being catered to by beautiful, topless handmaidens. McDowell also plays Alex with a kind of quiet innocence that marks a darkly comic counterpoint to his theatrical bursts of violence.

While there are certainly elements of the film that date it fairly specifically to the early 1970s (such as the gaudy costuming and design), it nevertheless maintains a timeless quality precisely because the presentation is so wildly over-the-top. Because it's unlike any other film ever made, it is less liable to be pigeon-holed into a specific era.

The Blu-Ray DVD is packed with special features, including a commentary featuring Malcolm McDowell and film historian Nick Redman, a making-of featurette, a documentary on the return of the film to British screens (after having been banned at the request of Stanley Kubrick), and a fascinating career profile of Malcolm McDowell. This last feature is particularly interesting, and features extensive interviews with McDowell discussing his career highlights (and lowlights... like Caligula). It also gives a very interesting view of McDowell. On the surface, he seems like a very charming person, and yet, the more you watch, the more he comes across like a self-aggrandizing little git. If you watch a lot of these documentaries and listen to a lot of commentaries, you'll find that most actors who worked with him speak of Stanley Kubrick with a kind of awe. McDowell doesn't. Oh, he's effusive in his praise of Kubrick's genius, but all of his stories about the making of the film focus on his own contributions. Perhaps I'm being unfair, but while the career retrospective definitely made me want to watch some of his other films, I didn't come away with a very favorable opinion of McDowell himself.

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