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Kubrick's contributions are his wit and his eye. The wit, too much at times, is as biting as in Dr. Strangelove, and the production, while of another order, is as spectacular as in 2001.
A film chiefly about making us watch terrible things and recognising that we have made the choice to watch them. It's a dirty trick to play on a viewer, but a fair one.
A very bad film -- snide, barely competent, and overdrawn -- that enjoys a perennial popularity, perhaps because its confused moral position appeals to the secret Nietzscheans within us.
Stanley Kubrick's latest film takes the heavy realities of the 'do-your-thing' and 'law-and-order' syndromes, runs them through a cinematic centrifuge, and spews forth the commingled comic horrors of a regulated society.
If pride of place must go to A Clockwork Orange, it is because this chilling and mesmeric adaptation of the Anthony Burgess novel could well become one of the seminal movies of the seventies.