Great

Rating: 9/10 (21 June 2012)

The character of Alex, as well, is one of the earliest examples of a 'true' anti-hero. I know many people might point to the roles of James Cagney or Humphrey Bogart, or of Orson Welles' performance of Harry Lime in The Third Man. But, in truth, neither Cagney nor Bogart were actors in a modern film, and their 'anti-heroes' were really more cartoony fictions than realistic; whereas McDowell's Alex is realistic, however stylized. But more than just the appeal of the anti-hero, Alex is a bon vivant, with an incredible lust for life (pro and con), and it is that factor, added to his being an anti-hero, that makes him such a memorable character. Whether he is raping, killing, listening to music, fighting, daydreaming, he is in every moment, and then some. This is why, when he is soul cauterized by the Ludovico Treatment, there is such a strong reaction, even by people who loathe his character to that point. It is also why the ending to the film, wherein Alex is 'cured' back to his evil self is so much more satisfying than Burgess's novel's original ending, wherein Alex grows bored with his old violent life, to which he has returned, and decides to 'grow up,' settle down, and get a wife and child. Although Kubrick's decision to go with the ending of the more cynical American version of the novel (in his screenplay) caused much dismay to Burgess (it never ceases to amaze how many artists do not fundamentally even get the points of their own works), it was the correct choice for the film, and a better and more realistic artistic statement. The truth is that Burgess's novel is not nearly as potent nor powerful as some earlier dystopian works, like George Orwell's Animal Farm nor 1984, nor Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. In fact, it's not even as interesting as A.E. Van Vogt's Slan (save for the introduction of the Nadsat lingo). The reason for the film's excellence is almost entirely on Kubrick's shoulders. While people can 'reform,' with the passage of time and advent of maturity (I am a prime example), this ending would have done two things to damage the film- 1) it would have meant Alex had lost the very thing which made him 'special,' and a great character- his savage lust for life, and 2) it would have shifted the focus of the ending away from the society which soul cauterized Alex back to Alex, and this would have emasculated the film's satiric edge. A Clockwork Orange, the film, is simply not about Alex nor youth hooliganism, but fundamental and institutionalized state terror. And it's because of this change of target by Kubrick that the film still blisters its audience today; the same cannot be said of Burgess's book. Had it just been a tract on young violence, or gangsterism it would have dated as badly as many other pop cultural films from the 1960s and 1970s.
But, no matter how you approach it, A Clockwork Orange is a great piece of filmmaking (whereas Burgess's book is not a great work of literature- a fact that even Burgess admitted to), and the final jewel in a filmic consecutive Triple Crown that may be without equal. It deals with the most fundamental thing that our most fundamental human quality- intelligence- endows us with: free will; the ability to choose this or that, be it a minor distraction or an ethical choice of the highest order. And such travails and their contrails are best handled by the greatest of artists. Stanley Kubrick was one of them. The distance to them, however, is bridged by their works, and this film is quite the span.