INDULGING in a bit of the old ultra-violence, Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange dives into the psychology of what it means to reform. It explores how freedom of choice (or lack thereof) affects a society’s view on rehabilitation and therefor forces an examination on one’s own violent notions of justice. Positioning Alex as an extraordinarily vile character who experiences wrongdoing of his own, Kubrick sets the stage for his controversially ambiguous conclusion.
The following review contains spoilers for A Clockwork Orange (1971).
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On a technical level, A Clockwork Orange is masterful. Shots are varied and ingenious; beautifully lit throughout. The scene where the writer transitions from his den to the living room particularly stands out. The performances living within these frames are also terrific. Malcolm McDowell (Alex) manages to deliver an incredibly believable performance of a human consciousness trapped within itself.
Nadsat slang brilliantly divides the characters of A Clockwork Orange. It comes in and out of use throughout the film, with the old and proper rejecting it, and the young and reckless embracing it. The character’s use of Nadsat creates a subconscious divide of morality between the characters for the viewer.
The classical score delightfully contrasts against Alex and droogs’ ultra-violent escapades. By downplaying and romanticizing Alex’s brutality, the second half of the film becomes that much more effective. When Kubrick depicts Alex’s own struggles, he does so with great reverence for his humanity, eliciting sympathy from the audience. This sympathy snowballs into growing unease as it becomes clear Alex never truly regretted his actions. Yet we cannot help but feel sorry for the actions taken against him, thus subverting the classical notion of an eye for an eye.
Above all else, the brilliance of A Clockwork Orange lies in the striking message it presents. Kubrick places free will on the highest pedestal, questioning the validity of morality based upon threats. While the doctors may have technically cured Alex, society rejects him because he did not experience a self-induced revelation. His true nature never changed, only his physical limitations. Alex still craved to lash out but was merely incapable of doing so.
On the other hand, from the perspective of the general public, logically they should have viewd him as cured. He no longer posed a threat to society and could have resumed a productive life. Instead, his victims feel cheated. He never suffered like them. Where was his pain? Kubrick illustrates that a “cure” for violence would never be accepted, because the degenerates of society are not the only ones who crave a bit of the old ultra-violence.
Corrupt police brutality, the health farm woman’s phallic sculptures, and parental abandonment all display the shortcomings of revered institutions and professionals. Classical music loving Alex is not pure just because he enjoys fine art; likewise those of high society cannot claim purity based solely on their status. Even once the doctors “cure” Alex, he faces rejection from the people society admires. Not until he suffers tremendous physical trauma from an attempted suicide do they come to his side. Even then, according to their logic they should still hate him. Nothing has changed, but since he payed the price in blood they absolve him of his sins.
As the preacher goes on about the failings of the Ludovico Technique, one has to wonder why his cure is any different. Shying away from depravity out of fear of strictly enforced repercussions should sound eerily familiar to a man of the church. To have true faith means believing in the scripture absolutely, which leads to a belief in eternal damnation, which leads to fear of one’s actions. In practice, do devoted believers really possess free will? Are they that much different than Alex? Is anyone being reformed on a truly moral level, or is everyone merely walking the straight path out of fear?
The clock ticks onward and as the film concludes we realize we are back where we started. Alex’s concussion brought him back to his true, deranged and horrid self. Through Kubrick’s lens we see being honest to one’s detestable traits is a better life than pretending to be one of the goody goodies. Whether or not you agree in Alex’s specific case (you probably should not), you are forced to recognize the horror involved in attempting to mechanize the natural. Aversion therapy or fervent religious dogma, in the end it is all the same.
Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange stands as one of his masterpieces. Beautifully varied shots, transitions, soundtrack, and performances serve to enhance the brilliant message put forward by the film (one altered from the original source material). Does the source of one’s lawful obedience matter, or only its technical existence? Even then, would a “cure” satisfy proper society’s own inclination towards the ultra-violence? What is the purpose of the prison system, retribution or reform? As the final shot fades out and we watch the carnal scene on display, Kubrick walks away shrugging, leaving our many questions unanswered and forcing us to look inward for our own truth. Now that’s a real horrorshow.
