For over 20 years I’ve had a thing for Malcolm McDowell – or, more precisely, the proudly nihilistic Alex he brought to life from the notorious Burgess book. I first saw “A Clockwork Orange” around the age of ten (note to liberal academics attempting to enlighten their young offspring through art films – Kubrick? Not a good idea) and again later in high school. It was this teenage viewing of McDowell as the violent anarchist leader of a group of hoods, who is ultimately “rehabilitated” by an equally sadistic society, that stuck with me.
For more on the dreamy droog visit my column at Spout.