‘Clockwork Orange’ stylistically brilliant

Press, 20 February 1989, Page 4

‘Clockwork Orange’ stylistically brilliant

A CLOCKWORK ORANGE

Directed and written by Stanley Kubrick Based on a novel by Anthony Burgess “A Clockwork Orange” (Regent) has not dated since its first release in 1971, and stylistically it is still as much of a brilliant tour de force today for its writer-director-pro-ducer, Stanley Kubrick, as it was then. Brimming with sex, sadism and ultra-violence, it proved to be one of the most controversial films of the early 70s. But today, ironically, that aspect of the film is hardly likely to. raise an eyebrow. “A Clockwork Orange” was, in fact, a frighteningly prophetic vision of the not-too-distant future, made in the same year that another exponent of cinematic violence, Sam Peckinpah, released “Straw Dogs.” Looking back, the early 70s now seem a curiously innocent era in which film-makers could be hailed for their artistic integrity by taking the “courageous” step of unflinchingly presenting violence in all its realistic glory. It was good box office too; being quite a coup for the cinemas if they could advertise their latest violent offering as being “uncut by the censor.” Of course, it was film-makers of the stature of Kubrick and Peckinpah who managed to escape the censor’s scissors for “artistic” reasons. Probably, what is most morally objectionable about “A Clockwork Orange” is that it was so beautifully made, that one is actually more interested in what Kubrick is doing stylistically than in what the characters are. Who cares if some woman is-brutally beaten to death with a giant sculpture of a phallus, or a man kicked into insensibility, so long as each move is precisely choreographed, and set to a tune like “Singin’ in the Rain” as a perfect counterpoint to the violence. With the use of Johann Strauss’s “Blue Danube” and Richard Strauss’s "Thus Spake Zarathustra” in “2001: a Space Odyssey,” Kubrick had learnt the dramatic effect to which classical music could be put, and he is at it again in “A Clockwork Orange.” . It is certainly great to hear those good old tunes again, and there is no harm in flogging Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony to death (I particularly liked the electronic version) when it is for cinematic art’s sake; but the use of Rossini’s “William Tell” Overture reaches an even greater height ot vulgarity since the Lone Ranger galloped across the plain. The thundering “William Tell” is used as unsubtle accompanying music to our hero, Alex (Malcolm McDowell), romping in bed with two girls — which brings another point to mind. Earlier in the day I had seen another English film,

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“Rita, Sue and Bob Too,” in which another couple of girls participate in a series of rather explicit sexual escapades with a young man. Although gritty and repetitive this film did not prove offensive. It made me muse on the fact that- the English are much better at successully pulling off this kind of action than the Americans, who generally flinch when confronted with a potentially embarrassing situation. (Kubrick is American, but working in England seems to have given him greater licence.) Now, back to Clockwork Orange,” which tells the cautionary tale of an anti-social young hood, Alex, who talks in a patois known as Nadsat (a kind of pidgin Russian developed by Anthony Burgess) and is hooked on “a little of the old ultra-violence,” without which he cannot seem to function. It is Alex’s violent escapades with his gang of "droogs” that make up the first, and most memorable, part of the film. Sent to prison for murder, Alex becomes a guinea pig in a. rehabilitation programme based on aversion therapy and, in the course of being cured of his addiction to' violence, emerges mild and meek, but with his soul missing. "A Clockwork Orange” has been described as a comedy, but as such it is a black one, with nothing particularly funny to present. Any humour is in the eye of the beholder, as much as it is in that of Alex, or Kubrick. On its first release, it won many prizes, including the New York Critics’ Award in 1971. In those days, Kubrick's portrayal of violence was still something new. But as they say, violence begets violence, and we have seen so many films of that nature now that the subject has nearly been done to death. If you do go, see “A Clockwork Orange”- for Kubrick’s stylised audacity which does not pall. A GREAT WALL Directed by Peter Wang Screenplay by Peter Wang and Shirley Sun The cultural differences between a group of American-Chinese' and their relatives in Peking provide some wry humour in the beautifully observed “A Great Wall” (Academy). The title of the film alludes to the gap between the mainland Chinese and their wealthy counterparts from the United States, who, on first sight, are mistaken for a group of Japanese. Paul (Kelvin Han Yee), the American-born son who accompanies his parents to Peking, and who

can speak no Chinese, says after the visit: “In China, I’m too American. In America, I’m too Chinese.”

Not all the differences — which cover every subject from money to sex, school and jobs — are all that difficult to resolve, however, and lead mainly to those delightful situations which make this film so entertaining. On receiving an electric blanket from his American visitors, the brother-in-law wraps himself in it and almost goes up in flames before realising it is set for a different voltage. A group of teenagers listen enraptured to Luciano Pavarotti singing on TV, thinking he is America’s favourite singing star.

The brother-in-law thinks that most Americans suffer from V.D. (probably after hearing exaggerated reports of herpes a few years ago); and the American son is appalled that his cousin’s mail is read first by her mother. On the more serious side, there is the importance placed by the Chinese on the university entrance exams, failing which the young are doomed to a menial occupation; and the equal seriousness with which they tackle playing table tennis, that also infects the American boy. Peter Wang, who wrote and directed this first Chinese-American co-pro-duction, also plays the American father with a droll, laid-back style, observing all the curiosities around him, and enjoying such new experiences as an evening of Chinese music. The camerawork by Peter Stein is beautiful, showing us the splendour of the Great Wall, about 100 km north-west of Peking, and the city itself, which certainly does not seem as drab as we have been led to believe. The last time we got such a charming view of life behind the Bamboo Curtain was from the visit by the American violinist, Isaac Stem, in "From Mao to Mozart.” The differences between East and West are highlighted even more strikingly in “A Great Wall” through the comparison between people of the same race, but from different sides of the Pacific.