Oh, that’s fair. Your response can be whatever it is. I just don’t understand writing about the guy as if he is some sort of deplorable monster; having that sort of reaction to a person who had done that to you and your loved ones seems understandable, if tragic in its own right.
According to the imdb Clockwork Orange trivia thread, Burgess “absolutely despised Kubrick’s movie - particularly because he received no money from it…Years later, Burgess wrote a stage version of A Clockwork Orange where the first character to step onto the stage had a remarkable resemblance to Kubrick. The rest of the cast members then proceed to beat the Kubrick-doppelganger.”
Again, according to imdb, Burgess “lived for a time in Malaysia, where his wife was beaten by four American GI’s, thus giving inspiration to this story. In Malay, the word “ourang” means man…therefore, the title of the story is actually a pun on the British expression. Rather than a clockwork fruit, it is a clockwork man, which is, of course, exactly what Alex has become by the end of the film.”
I don’t follow. Motivation to do what by Burgess? And who are you referring to by “alter ego”?
You implied, by virtue of his bodybuilder companion, that Alexander was a latent homosexual in a sham marriage. I cited Alexander as being Burgess’s alter ego in his role as husband of the assault victim (Burgess had to get blotto drunk in order to bear to write the scene). Little or no evidence point to Anthony Burgess having been bisexual, other than the introduction to Paul Theroux’s discredited fictional reminiscence of a dinner shared with Burgess.
As far as Burgess’s vitriol towards Kubrick, in his autobiography Burgess expressed this more on behalf of Malcom McDowell than himself, who with Burgess but not Kubrick, was contractually obliged to make promotional appearances in Great Britain on behalf of the film as the public firestorm surrounding it grew. Kubrick, by contrast, sat calmly at home “paring his nails” (Burges’s quoting James Joyce’s line about God’s indifference to suffering).
And while, true, AB made no money directly off the film, having sold any future film riths off years earlier for something like $100, the exposure of the film gave Burgess fame and opportunity that brought him the wealth that he otherwise would not have obtained. I apologize for not stating this clearly.
In the Kubrick film, yes. I haven’t read the book.
Out of interest, how much evidence is there for Alexander being Burgess’s alter ego. Specifically, does Burgess write in his autobiography that he intended Alexander to be his alter ego?
How was Theroux’s reminiscence discredited? Did Burgess in fact never have dinner with Theroux?
Methinks he doth protest too much. And, anyway, McDowell could look after himself. Write an autobio, whatever.
I believe he sold them to Mick Jagger when he (Burgess) was short on cash. Must have been kicking himself about this for the rest of his life when the film was a success. Does he mention this in his autobiography (that is, his sense of disappointment at missing out in terms of film rights having sold them for virtually nothing)?
By the way, can you confirm whether it was Malta or Malaysia?
One hint is that Alexander is the author of a book titled A Clockwork Orange.
Holy cow - the fictional Alexander, like the actual AB, is a writer who’s wife is attacked. Burgess never denied that this was deliberate. No more than did Eugene O’Neill ever claim to have spun “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” entierly out of his imagination, as another example of autobiographical inspiration.
Anthony Burgess served in the Army Education Corps in Gibraltar in WWII (not Malta - my error - he moved to Malta as a tax exile in 1968), instructing enlisted men in basic education courses as well as giving propaganda lectures. Wile he was there, his wife was assaulted by AWOL American soldiers. After the war he was employed as an English teacher in Maylasia.
The film rights were not sold to Mick Jagger. His only connection to this was an early idea that was discarded to have MJ portray Alex, and the rest of the Stones as the droogs.
Paul Theroux’s piece on his dinner with AB was seen as mean-spirited, even if PT never claimed it to be the pure truth. Link to opposing view:
http://bu.univ-angers.fr/EXTRANET/AnthonyBURGESS/NL2Theroux.htm
Again, according to idmb, “Burgess originally sold the movie to Mick Jagger for $500 when he needed quick cash. Jagger intended to make it with the Rolling Stones as the droogs.” As a Brit, I suppose I can understand as well as anyone how much we Brits both love money and spend so much of our time and energy trying to conceal the fact. The love of money is indeed for us the root of all kinds of evil. Or, as the Chinese say, “Yau hai chin” – “It’s always about money”.
Does Burgess himself, in his autobio or elsewhere, say whether the title of his book is taken from Bahasa Malay, and/or meant as a pun on the slang term “as queer as a clockwork orange”?
I enjoyed the subtle dichotomy of Alex’s character. Violent, but to a tranquil mean. Exhibited brilliantly when he cane-slaps his partner in the milk bar for deriding the lady’s rendetion of Beethoven’s lovely 9th. Sure he rapes and plunders; but any gentleman who can appreciate a little of the Ludvig van must be, fundamentally, benign.
Alex portrayed as a hero? I don’t think so. It’s funny how someone with an evil persona can attain hero status when subjected to the greater evil of institutionalization. I believe he was portrayed as evil with certain virtues.
I agree, not a hero in the film, nor intended as such. He’s no Randall P.(?) McMurphy.
But I have to take issue with your other point; there’s not too much benign about cane-slapping another person. The use of the word/concept “droog” dehumanises us, as well as them…
I find it interesting, after reading this review, posted by roger thornhill above, that Ebert refers to the use of Beethoven’s 9th as both familiar and arbitrary. I don’t know too many people who could identify Beethoven’s 9th acoustically. Maybe that was His Rogerness stroking his ego unwittingly. And I believe the piece was used to add sophistication to an otherwise trite and boorish character. I must confess, however, that this is merely my supposition. I have no idea why Kubrik used Beethoven; and now I can’t ask him.
That was the dichotomy I was talking about. He can slap someone violently with a cane while appreciating the beauty of Beethoven’s 9th. In fact, it is the beauty of the piece which invoked that particular act of violence. I interpreted this as an artistic contary. But be sure this is only my supposition. I have never read analysis on either the film or the book.
I note that Roger’s review was made in 1972, shortly after the American theatrical release. Roge himself was a young aspiring writer/critic, I believe, and perhaps he wanted to set himself apart from the crowd, who were worshipping at Kubrick’s feet. In this particular case, I think he backed the wrong horse. But then again he liked Love Actually, and worships anything with a Chinese bird flying through the air on wires, so perhaps it was an early symptom of his incipient rogerosity.
I am still uncertain what you mean by “violent, but to a tranquil mean”.
Furthermore, when he rants about “the thin end of the wedge” and “before long we’ll have the full apparatus of totalitarianism” – we know he’s not crazy, or at any rate, he’s not wrong. Just a few scenes earlier, when the government minister visits Alex’s prison, he makes an offhand comment that “In any case, we’ll soon be needing these cells for political offenders.”
That’s the striking thing about ACO. Every character is a creep in one way or another. And yet, Kubrick makes us empathize with them! I remember when the droogs come back to the moloko-plus mesto, and Dim, with a weary, wistful expression, says ever so gently to the drugged-milk-dispensing effigy: “How are you, Audrey? Keeping busy? We’ve been working hard, too. Excuse me.” [reaches for her nipple] A real cinematic moment of Zen! Even though the audience knows what “work” Dim has just been at, we’re touched to see this sensitive side to him! Even if he’s only capable of directing it at an inanimate object.
Kubrick was a true genius!
Errmm . . . that’s not how the book ends, Nightwatch. I suggest you give the last two pages a second read.
“Relationship”? I guess you could read a homosexual subtext into it – but the way I read that situation was, Alexander needed a live-in nurse or servant because of his injuries, and having been assaulted in his own home once already, he hired one physically capable of defending him. As for his wife, the only thing that struck me as odd about that relationship was that she was too young for him; but she didn’t seem to be discontented or alienated. (So far as we could tell – of course, she was on screen for no more than five minutes and had maybe three lines.) And Alexander was never a “coward” – what was he supposed to do, when four young toughs charged in, kicked the shit out of him and tied him up? And he proved a “fake” only in his willingness to do harm to Alex – which was at least understandable, in view of what had passed between them.
Actually, I think you “outed” my poor grammar here. I’ll try to clarify that statement.
Alex was a lower class hoodlum. But his appreciation of classical pieces, specifically Beethoven’s 9th, gave him upper class characteristics. And, as we all know, the upper class can’t be evil. Hence the dichotomy. Alex was and evil hoodlum, but with certain redeemable virtues.
But it wasn’t thrown out by Kubrick. Burgess made Alex a person who was in some ways inhuman, yet who had a vital link to humanity through his love of music. That point was hammered home in the side-effect of Ludovico’s conditioning – while it made Alex harmless (and helpless), it also cut him off from his music, i.e., from his humanity. And Kubrick’s film was true to that vision, in all essential aspects of it. (The entry for ACO in The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction, by John Clute and Peter Nicholls, says, IRRC, “In fact the film is not amoral, though its moral is controversial. The message is that it is just as immoral to destroy a monster as to create one.”)
The choice of music is to my mind inspired. I specifically waited for the credits to roll to check out the pieces used - those I didn’t recognise. Of course, the thing is that even a semi-musically-literate person like me will recognise the large part of the selection. Well, certainly by the end of the film, when most of them have been repeated ad nauseam (literally, in some cases!) and are hardly snippets in the first place.
I suppose that Ludwig Van’s 9th comes straight from the book (is it some kind of early 1960s[ - when the book was presumably written - reaction against Elvis, skiffle, and Cliff Richard?). The story behind Singin’ in the Rain is wonderful, if true, and serves as a warning to critics and other annoying pseuds. Apparnently, it was used because it was the only song that McDowell knew all the words to.
For an Englishman (sorry to play the race card again, but I’m getting my own back after all the horrid, horrid people pointing out I’m not a Yank), the use of Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance March when Alex is being transferred (both literally and metaphorically) is awesome. Hypocrisy comes closest to the range of emotions this piece manages (is intended to?) evoke. Empire, greed, superiority, superciliousness, sentimentality (without sentiment), white man’s burden, and all that.
MPSIMS: I never even heard “Singing in the Rain” until the first time I saw ACO. And I had the song running through my head for two days afterwards.