Stanley Kubrick’s ‘A Clockwork Orange’ Adaptation Was Hated By Its Original Author

The Big Picture

• Kubrick’s adaptation of
  A Clockwork Orange
  closely follows the content of the original novel, maintaining its violent narrative and the use of the Ludovico Technique for rehabilitation.
• Despite some minor differences between the book and the film, Burgess actually praised Kubrick’s adaptation, finding it “technically brilliant” and thought-provoking. He desired even more violence in the film to highlight its absurdity.
• Kubrick’s relationship with authors varied, from collaborating closely with Nabokov on “Lolita” to disregarding King’s screenplay for
  The Shining.
  However, the films Kubrick left behind continue to be timeless masterpieces.

The late film auteur Stanley Kubrick, heralded as one of Hollywood’s greatest filmmakers, directed only thirteen feature films during his career. Somewhat surprisingly, all but two of his films were adaptations of novels or short stories. What is not surprising is the tempestuous relationship he had with the authors of those novels and short stories. One of those authors was Anthony Burgess, who penned A Clockwork Orange in 1962. Kubrick released his adaptation of the novel, also titled A Clockwork Orange, in 1971, and Burgess hated it. Kinda, sorta. Like Kubrick himself, the truth is complicated.

Kubrick’s ‘A Clockwork Orange’ Hews Close to Burgess’ Novel

If Burgess’ issues with the film had to do with major differences between the content of the novel and the adaptation, they would have been largely unfounded. As far as a literal adaptation goes, Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange is considerably close to Burgess’ novel. The novel is set in a future with a pervasive subculture of extreme violence among the youth in society. Alex, the novel’s fifteen-year-old protagonist (for lack of a better word), recounts for the reader detailed descriptions of the violent acts that he and his “droogs” have committed. Alex then begins recounting his reform at the hands of state authorities through a technique called the “Ludovico Technique,” a form of aversion therapy where Alex becomes sickened at the very hint of violence.

Likewise, the film follows Alex (Malcolm McDowell) and his droogs as they commit rape, theft, and “ultra-violence” before Alex is captured and subjected to the “Ludovico Technique” in an attempt at rehabilitation. The film brings Burgess’ vivid chronicles of Alex’s violent narrative to life, especially in realizing the Ludovico Technique in the film’s most memorable scene. The differences between the two, on the surface, are minimal. Alex’s droog, Georgie, played by James Marcus, dies in the book but not in the film. After his rehabilitation, Alex ends up back in the house of Frank Alexander (Patrick Magee), who was the victim of a violent attack by Alex and his droogs earlier in the film. In both, Alexander doesn’t recognize Alex, but in the film he’s given away by singing “Singin’ in the Rain”, which the wheelchair-bound Alexander remembers from the earlier attack. In the book, Alex accidentally makes references to the previous attack in his conversations with a scarred, but mobile, Alexander. A not-so-minimal difference is how a rape early in the film is committed on a young woman, but in the book that character is only ten-years-old, as are the girls Alex talks to in the record store and brings home.

What Anthony Burgess Actually Hated About Kubrick’s ‘A Clockwork Orange’

One major difference between the two would come to represent Burgess’ largest issues with the film: the ending. The original British edition of the novel had an additional chapter, 21, that wasn’t in the American edition. In the chapter, Alex matures and realizes that it’s time to settle down, get a job, a wife, and kids, even though he muses that the kids will likely follow a similar trajectory in life. It’s a sensible and definitive, albeit anticlimactic, ending. With Kubrick not including the final chapter in the film (unknowingly or, more likely, fully aware), he gave the film a more nihilistic, ambiguous ending that suggests that, despite the attempts at rehabilitation, Alex was unreformed, could never truly be reformed, and society had no hope whatsoever.

Contrary to popular belief, Burgess didn’t actually hate the film. In fact, he thought the film was excellent, and found that Kubrick had brought the nuances of his novel to the screen through his camera work. Burgess would be quoted as saying the film was “technically brilliant, thoughtful, relevant, poetic, mind-opening.” If anything, Burgess felt the film should have been more violent. He felt it was “damnable” that Kubrick projected violence for its own sake, and that “only by piling on the violence could the absurdity of violence be shown. We should have been able to reach a stage in violence where we were just laughing at it. This is what I tried to do in the book.” What Burgess hated was how the film had eclipsed his work, but he was the one being vilified. Speaking about the press tour he undertook for the film, Burgess recalled, “I realized, not for the first time, how little impact even a shocking book can make in comparison with a film. Kubrick’s achievement swallowed mine, whole, and yet I was responsible for what some called its malign influence on the young.” Furthermore, as detailed in the previously cited article from Far Out, Burgess became increasingly angered as the media ignored his other works, instead choosing to focus on A Clockwork Orange, and at the lack of recognition for how his intellectual property had inspired the film in the first place. Yet to Burgess, Kubrick’s film was a separate entity, a complete reimagining of his novel, and he maintained his stance that the film was brilliant.

Anthony Burgess Wasn’t the Only Author That Found Issue With Kubrick’s Adaptations

In the previously cited article in The Wrap, McDowell recalled that during production, he asked Kubrick if he ever met with Burgess to discuss the project, to which Kubrick replied, “Oh good God, no! Why would I want to do that?” It’s an amusing anecdote, but very telling. Kubrick respected and admired the work of authors, but promoted his vision of their work above their own. For Lolita, Kubrick, who had bought the film rights to the novel, approached author Vladimir Nabokov and asked him to write a screenplay for what was largely considered an unadaptable work. Nabokov and Kubrick met regularly to discuss his progress, engaging one another in a game of suggestion and countersuggestion on how best to adapt the novel. Finally, Nabokov submitted a screenplay that both he and Kubrick found acceptable. Then, after a period of about two years when Nabokov heard little from his collaborator, he took in a private screening of the finished film. As Nabokov tells it, “I had discovered that Kubrick was a great director, that his Lolita was a first-rate film with magnificent actors and that only ragged odds and ends of my script had been used.”

While Nabokov and Burgess recognized Kubrick’s adaptations as masterful, and author Arthur C. Clarke had a truly collaborative working relationship with the director on 2001: A Space Odyssey, one author truly did famously dislike – nae, hated – Kubrick’s adaptation of his novel. That author is Stephen King, and he took issue with Kubrick’s interpretation of The Shining. In an interview with the Paris Review, King gave a very concise explanation of why he hated the film. He found the film too cold, lacked any emotional investment in the family, Shelley Duvall was nothing more than a scream machine, and Jack Nicholson was simply playing Jack Nicholson. As he describes it, “The guy is crazy. So where is the tragedy if the guy shows up for his job interview and he’s already bonkers? No, I hated what Kubrick did with that.” King would continue his vitriolic onslaught after the interviewer asked if he had worked with Kubrick on the film. “My screenplay for The Shining became the basis for the television miniseries later on. But I doubt Kubrick ever read it before making his film. He knew what he wanted to do with the story, and he hired the novelist Diane Johnson to write a draft of the screenplay based on what he wanted to emphasize. Then he redid it himself. I was really disappointed.”

Stanley Kubrick’s relationship with the authors that inspired his work, including Anthony Burgess, may have ranged wildly, from a truly creative partnership to a seething hatred over closing the door outright on any partnership whatsoever, but the films that were left behind are a body of work that stands the test of time, like the novels they are based on.

A Clockwork Orange is available to rent in the U.S. on Apple TV+

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