A Clockwork Orange (Special Edition) Blu-ray

My first exposure to A Clockwork Orange came in the late 1980s as an impressionable sixth-form college student. At the time it was still banned from general release, b... Read on

My first exposure to A Clockwork Orange came in the late 1980s as an impressionable sixth-form college student. At the time it was still banned from general release, but a friend had obtained a copy by some doubtless dubious means. I was aware of the Anthony Burgess novel from which the film was adapted, having already read and been fascinated by the conceptually-similar 1984 and Brave New World. Ultimately, though, I was less taken with this particular story than by the entrancing imagery and music and slightly potty dialect. It was a shallow victory for the aesthete in me over the intellectual.

Yet seeing it again some fifteen years on, older and - arguably - wiser, the greater implications of the film couldn't fail to strike me. The visual and aural beauty still shine, yet often appear to be totally at odds with what is happening on screen - for example, a jolly ditty ('Singin' In The Rain') and a kind of surreally-balletic dance routine are used to choreograph a scene of ultra-violence and rape. The juxtaposition of 'good' against 'bad' is a clever artistic device; it could be (and probably has been) argued that Kubrick is trivialising violence and rape, when it would be more accurate to say that he is subtly emphasising their hideousness.

It's a widely-held opinion that A Clockwork Orange carries considerably less of the shock value that it had on its release thirty-plus years ago. True to an extent, but only in so far as it stands to reason that any such provocative film is going to have different impacts on different generations. That's evolution. Look at The Exorcist: maybe it WAS "the scariest film ever" in its' day, but to me now it packs about as much punch as a fluffy kitten.

What is truly remarkable and frightening about A Clockwork Orange is how much of its' bleak and frankly disturbing vision of the future - a society casting aside moral values in the pursuit of cheap thrills, and a government who will go to extremes to try and control them - has and continues to become a kind of reality.

See it, and there's a fair chance your life may never be the same again.
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Until its recent re-release after years of legal wrangles, Kubrick's controversial screen version of the novel by Anthony Burgess remained a film more discussed than s... Read on

Until its recent re-release after years of legal wrangles, Kubrick's controversial screen version of the novel by Anthony Burgess remained a film more discussed than seen, adding to the mystique and legendary status surrounding the enterprise.The phantasm of horrifying violence and society's equally horrifying methods of suppressing it Kubrick conceives, is achieved by stunning, elegantly clinical directorial technique.

Malcolm McDowell's portrayal of Alex, the aimless young man dedicated to casual ultra violence remains one of the finest performances in any Kubrick film, supported by a not always convincing assortment of grotesque minor characters.
A still shockingly violent, futuristic vision that clearly anticipated and arguably influenced the Punk movement. From the Pop Art sets, (the dazzling whiteness of the Korova bar where Alex and his droogs hang out), to the disorientating camera movements of the deeply disturbing rape sequence that results in the kicking to death of a woman, brilliantly choreographed to the eerie tunefulness of Singin in the Rain, there are many unforgettable
moments throughout Kubrick's bleak, dystopian vision of a heartless world.

What makes the film so unsettling and uncomfortable to watch is the detached coldness and almost Brechtian approach to portraying violence. 30 years on, Kubrick's disturbingly prophetic vision seems incredibly spot on: aimless ultra-violent youths; emotionless sex and drug induced kicks; bleak and lawless city centres. Watch it and worry… Hide