I mention these films to give you, the reader, examples of my preferences. To me, this is an eclectic, not easily-definable lot. If you figure out the common ground of these films, if any, let me know. I can only say that each one touched me like only the finest art can.

Of the three initially mentioned, however — and of everything above — I consider “A Clockwork Orange” to be the single “perfect” film in every department, a masterpiece that represents the pinnacle of filmmaking skill and the very potential of the medium itself.

My thoughts on the matter were elucidated in a recent Facebook post, where one particularly aggrieved friend wrote that I was celebrating a film that “glorified rape and violence.”

As the days went on, several other readers became upset with me for similar reasons.

I remain steadfast in my opinion: “A Clockwork Orange” is the greatest film ever made, and I’ll tell you why.

Source Material

Author Anthony Burgess began writing the novel, “A Clockwork Orange,” in early 1961. See his Foundation’s official website here, for a comprehensive history of his process and the book’s transition to film:

The following introduction from the Burgess Foundation page is key to “Clockwork’s” longevity: “A Clockwork Orange” is Anthony Burgess’s most famous novel and its impact on literary, musical and visual culture has been extensive. The novel is concerned with the conflict between the individual and the state, the punishment of young criminals, and the possibility or otherwise of redemption. The linguistic originality of the book, and the moral questions it raises, are as relevant now as they ever were.

Spot-on. As the film, in my opinion, is top of the line, so is its source material. Criminality is as old as time. Neither the efficacy of our prison system nor the complete reformation of our criminals will ever be attained to the degree desired and therefore will remain little more than a symbolic goal. Hope, for the culture. Federal legislation is endlessly debated and occasionally passed to improve or repair flaws in the system, leading to the usual controversy over “too much government” in our daily affairs.

Where Burgess’ novel excelled, as but one example, was with the introduction of science to the equation. The Ludovico Technique was a state-run Pavlovian experiment, delivered to “Clockwork’s” anti-hero Alex DeLarge to dilute his violent temptations. Whereas in the film the attempt ultimately proved unsuccessful, in the book existed a chapter originally cut for American audiences.

The book initially ended with the fabled Chapter 21 — not shot for the film (Kubrick’s choice) — which ultimately saw Alex unable to return to his old state of being after all. He grew bored with the old ultraviolent routine.

He was “cured all right.”

Another masterstroke of the book, as adapted within the film? The use of Nadsat, a language invented by Burgess and spoken among Alex’s gang, or droogs as they were referred to in that jargon. Again, I refer you to the website above for the history of and reasoning behind this and other creative literary decisions.

Stanley Kubrick’s “A Clockwork Orange”

Everything … every last thing was perfection.

The film’s official domestic 2019 marketing synopsis states the plot: In an England of the future, Alex (Malcolm McDowell) and his “Droogs” spend their nights getting high at the Korova Milkbar before embarking on “a little of the old ultraviolence,” while jauntily warbling “Singin’ in the Rain.” After he’s jailed for bludgeoning the Cat Lady to death, Alex submits to behavior modification technique to earn his freedom; he’s conditioned to abhor violence. Returned to the world defenseless, Alex becomes the victim of his prior victims.

From the sets, mise-en-scene and, as www.consequenceofsound.net described it,“Wendy Carlos’ humanity-stripping synths” — much of which is on display in the first 120 seconds of the film (below) — Kubrick’s 1971 “A Clockwork Orange” is unlike any film seen before or since.

As the movie went on, its masterful framing of the visual image continued.