A Clockwork Orange – Action to the Word
Anthony Burgess's dystopian tale of teenage anger, desire and boredom turns 50.
Overview
‘There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie, and Dim, and we sat in the Korova Milkbar trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening’, reads the opening line of Anthony Burgess’s scandalous novel, A Clockwork Orange. How ringleader Alex and his band of teenage delinquents do eventually spend their night — on a rampage of brutal assault and rape which ends in the murder of an elderly lady — propels the audience of Action to the Word theatre’s contemporary reimagining of Burgess’s seminal text, directed by Alexandra Spencer-Jones, into an exploration of testosterone fuelled boredom gone awry.
Those who may have attempted the novel but baulked at its unfamiliar, somewhat jarring ‘Nadsat’ dialect (an English and Russian hybrid language invented entirely by Burgess and later, in a case of life imitating art, employed by real life gangs following the success of the text) will be grateful for the physicality of the dynamic, all male cast. Where it may be easy to verbally miss what it means to ‘tolchock a chelloveck in the kishkas’, the actualisation of Alex (Martin McCreadie) senselessly brutalising those unfortunate enough to fall under his malicious gaze when he’s looking to break up the monotony of it all cannot be lost in translation. Although a fascination with violence is inherent to the performance, a stylistic emphasis on dynamic dance sequences, accompanied by a modern, high-energy soundtrack, allows some of the more shocking portrayals to remain implied, rather than descend into self-serving vulgarity. This is no coincidence — unlikely Stanley Kubrick’s highly graphic film adaptation, Action to the Word’s stage performance has auctorial integrity, having been developed in association with Burgess, who sought to rectify misconceptions of the text as being designed as an invitation to the disillusioned youth of the world to mirror the rage of his fictional droogs.
Unlike the originally published and widely circulated American version of the novel, Spencer-Jones’s stage adaptation remains true to Burgess’s original ending. By privileging the author’s intended sequence of closure, a protagonist whose behavior is undeniably animalistic and barbaric throughout the performance is ultimately humanised — it turns out it was all a case of ‘boys will be boys’ and what Alex really wants is the wife, kid and white picket fence, just like the rest of us. Where Burgess may have intended this to suggest an innate potential for goodness in even the most seemingly depraved members of society, it simultaneously highlights the audience's ability to feel empathy for, and identify with, a violent murderer. When played by the achingly charismatic McCreadie, despite his propensity for kicking heads in and pillaging innocent women, Alex is strangely mesmerising and even appealing — what might be most interesting is what that implies about our own attitude towards aggression, manhood and ‘that old ultra violence’.
Just what that wider societal attitude might be remains unclear, although just shy of two years on from the London riots, audiences of A Clockwork Orange will feel that its depictions of the human propensity for violence, aggression and brutality remain as scandalously relevant today they were when first published as a text 50 years ago. While it may leave you unsure of whether whether to take up adult dance classes, attempt (probably feebly) to kick down a street sign or run for cover from the mad, bad world outside, A Clockwork Orange is an immersive triumph of modern theatre that will confront, then refuse to neatly providing answers to all of the terror it raises — real horror show, in all senses of the term.
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