Paul Anderson, review of A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess (RSC, Barbican), Tribune, 16 February 1990
Anthony Burgess has made the mistake of turning his satirical novella, A Clockwork Orange, into a stage play, and the Royal Shakespeare Company has made the mistake of putting it on.
It is a third-rate play in a fourth-rate production, which adds a happy ending to Stanley Kubrick's film version but loses all its shocking power. The ultraviolence of Alex and his droogs is laughable rather than threatening, the brainwashing to which he is subject utterly unconvincing, and the moral of the story – that violence is kids' stuff – simply crass.
The set is of course very flash, and the cast make the best they can of the miserable material they have been given – but it really isn't enough. A Clockwork Orange is tedious and wholly lacking in dramatic trension.
It ought to go the way of Carrie. It won't, largely because it is sold out for its entire run on the strength of the cult reputation of Kubrick's film (not seen in the British cinema since 1972) and the popularity of U2's music (Bono and The Edge have recycled a few bars from The Joshua Tree as background).
But the powers-that-be at the RSC should be hanging their heads in shame at this puerile dreck.
