I'm laughing and loving in the shame. Du-du-du-du...

Rating: 10/10 (26 November 2010)

There's been an alarming lack of undeserving classics reviewed these past few weeks. It's not as what could be perceived as spontaneous generosity, or keeping on par with what is deemed as appropriate by critics but rather the standard is, or was, so ignorant of sub-level greatness they all take the crown by the strength of their hands and seem incapable of letting go. Then next week comes and it's prised effortlessly from their clutch. But with A Clockwork Orange, now arguably Kubrick's greatest, in contrast to FMJ, 2001, The Shining and EWS, the film has lifted not just from last weeks, but from his own hands.
Though initially sceptical of Kubrick's 'gift' having started with his least tremendous, Eyes Wide Shut, which was no dastardly Friedberg and Seltzer combination, but to an outsider breaching the circle of meticulousness and cinematic genius, wasn't the most forthcoming or prestigious of his films. But a distasteful (back then) introduction has lead to what is now, pure admiration. A Clockwork Orange continues his stainless visage, incorporating the aid of classic music which has ironically never been more suited to something so contradictory yet complimentary.
As far as controversy goes (and these days it's, pretty, pretty far) Clockwork has tremendously surpassed all graphic expectations with flying screams and violence. But with Kubrick, the quantity never ranked below the quality; true its explicit characters, story and content can have you lunging for the nearest available sick bag, and the profanity seems scarcely mild compared to the fiery zest that sexual violence stings you with, but all the text book requirements are dutifully ticked along the way so there's no doubt of any excessive violence just for the sake of it in Kubrick's safe hands.
Within these requirements are: the captivating characters – Malcolm McDowell sadly overlooked in his youth for making the Tyler Durden-ish teenager, a heart heaving tragic case. Rich black comedy – when you delve deep into your own shame, such as the attack of the giant genital ornament. Contrapuntal sound – "I'm singing in the rain" Whack. Slap. Kick. "Just singing in the rain" Scissors. Forced clothes removal. Guess the rest. If that was unearthed to be a shocking statement, that's not a loose thread on Clockwork's jacket. Then the most important component: a blend of all these.
It's reassuring that Kubrick didn't take the fake route of not including the inhumanity when doing the screenplay. It makes the film so harrowing, so real, so perfect. If he took the adult friendly (it's too extreme to be tarred down to teenage friendly) route of showing us a wall to conceal the excessive (but necessary) blood spilling and clothe dispensing, how else would you expect to learn about the character? If it was all tucked away and hidden from audiences, would it have acquired its deserving cult status? Unlikely, or its cinematic recognition – e.g. the fast-mo 'Inny Outy' threesome is probably the best sex scene to ever be put on screen (only Kubrick could make you say that about a film).
When fellow Brit-film Peeping Tom caused a stir it actually ended the director's career despite being a misjudged masterpiece. It makes you shiver at the thought if that had happened to Kubrick, but at least it would have terminated his career with his biggest and best bang.