'A Clockwork Orange' - Retro Review

For the longest time, the work of Stanley Kubrick held a similar approximation in my mind to The Beatles: I appreciated their contribution to their respective fields, but wasn’t a fan. That was until I discovered the ‘Hey Jude’ of Kubrick’s work - a joyfully crafted number that goes on maybe a bit too long but you let is off because it's so good - A Clockwork Orange. Adapted from the novel by Anthony Burgess and released in 1971 to such a degree of controversy that the director himself pulled it from the cinemas. It’s tale of rampant youth, and the opportunistic government that fed off their exploits was radical and bizarre, and in its DNA lay the foundation from which similar adaptations such as Trainspotting emerged.

The greatest achievement of the film is its central character, Alex DeLarge (Malcom McDowell), ostensibly the original anti-hero of modern cinema, paving the way for Fight Club’s Tyler Durden and even Heath Ledger’s portrayal of the Joker in The Dark Knight. Alex is a corrupted and disgusting individual, but still we can’t help but feel for him. His devotion to the works of Ludwig van Beethoven and childish gang language paint a starkly different picture to the cold and calculating killer his façade would seem to suggest, and in one particular scene you don’t just like him, you want to take him home, tuck him up in bed and give him some ‘eggy-weggs’.

A great juxtaposition is drawn – knowing Kubrick, deliberately so – between Alex’s calm and charming nature and the bizarre, almost comical set of supporting characters, all of whom spend most of the film trying to convince him that he is the crazy one. Standouts include Patrick Magee as a feverish and sepulchral writer and Michael Bates as the Monty Python-esque prison chief, his rapping footsteps and overly crisp uniform calling to mind a caricature of an SS officer. Alex’s own mother turns up in each scene wearing an outfit more ridiculous and Lady Gaga-ish than the last and his barking mad consultant Mr Deltoid is constantly picking the scenery out from between his teeth.

 The camerawork is carefully crafted and controlled, not feeling the need to cut every two seconds during a fight scene or move around too much, always letting the eye adjust to a frame where every detail has been analysed. Anyone who has researched Kubrick to some degree is aware of his obsession with boxes and fitting things into shot, and there is great care in the film to make sure that the clean cut 1960’s concrete architecture is visible even as the characters run amuck throughout. The director’s use of music within the movie is sublime, whether its Alex’s obsession over the 9^th symphony, or the slow, seething undertone of Purcell’s ‘Funeral of Queen Mary’ that accompanies many of the darkest moments. The music is carefully chosen and injected when it is sure to have an effect, unlike some film-makers who simply take a trawl through their record collection and throw in anything they think is ‘cool’ (yes Tarantino, I’m looking at you).

When the film works at it’s very best, it has you under its complete control: despite yourself, despite the horrific ‘ultra-violence’ occurring on screen, you find yourself not only enjoying it, but laughing along. Any film that can create genuine mirth during a reprehensible scene of torture has already won, and made you its puppet. Like Alex enduring the Ludovico Technique, you know it’s horrible…but you are transfixed, and this applies in kind to that very scene. It is something that appears unutterably cruel and demented, but has since passed into film legend and has been referenced and parodied countless times.

A Clockwork Orange is one of those films that will never go away: it’s enjoyably mad imagery and memorable cast of characters are not easily forgotten and helped further establish the credentials of Stanley Kubrick. It can be (and has been) called many things: a horror film, a psychological study, or just plain insanity…for now at least, I’m sticking with my personal favourite: a masterpiece.