The Novelist's Responsibility

In the thread on “Greatest Culture” I linked a Pauline Kael review of “A Clockwork Orange”. Here’s the link again:

http://visual-memory.co.uk/amk/doc/0051.html

The essence of Kael’s negative critique is that Kubrick manipulates his audience into empathizing with the murderer and rapist, while holding the victims in contempt. Kael finds this morally abhorrent. Nonetheless, her final condemnation of the movie (and her critique is excellent whatever we think of “A Clockwork Orange”) is, “The movie's confusing -- and, finally, corrupt -- morality is not, however, what makes it such an abhorrent viewing experience. It is offensive long before one perceives where it is heading, because it has no shadings. Kubrick, a director with an arctic spirit, is determined to be pornographic, and he has no talent for it”

That’s the problem with both pornography and propaganda, is it not? Both tend to lack depth and shading. If they had depth and shading, they would (however sexy or however patriotic) fail to be merely pornography or propaganda.
Since you mention Mark Twain, “Injun Jim” is clearly a stereotyped caricature. Nonetheless (as luke hinted) the stereotyped caricature makes sense in “Tom Sawyer”, because for children ALL adults are stereotyped caricatures.

Jonathon Haidt (whom I mentioned earlier) divides morality into five categories: ingroup/loyalty, authority/respect, and purity/sanctity, as well as on the universally employed foundations of harm/care and fairness/reciprocity. Modern liberals (i.e. most of us) emphasize the last two. However, we probably care about the first three (more often associated with religious thinking) more than we think we do. We wouldn’t look at pornography in public not because it violates any notion of fairness or harm, but because it violates notions of loyalty and purity. We might object to Tolstoy's criticism of Beethoven and Shakespeare as in opposition to "authority/respect".

One function of art (of course) is to question culturally constituted norms in all five categories. However, when such questioning becomes manipulative, simplistic, jingoistic or overbearing, the result is lousy art. Kael’s objections to “A Clockwork Orange” are not merely moral objections, but artistic objections. She objects to being manipulated into empathizing with morally repugnant characters, and it ruins the movie for her. I’d suggest that most of us would agree (perhaps not about “A Clockwork Orange”, but about some other work of art).

This is a complicated issue, of course. The history of painting includes masterpiece after masterpiece commissioned by the Church, and designed to be (basically) propaganda. To what extent is moral shading or ambiguity essential to differentiating between the masterpieces and the schlock propaganda? I’m not sure. Certainly some of the masterpieces gain that status from complex characterizations; others, however, toe the party line, and are masterpieces of composition, color, and (whatever else art experts talk about). Countless paintings of Mary and Baby Jesus don't seem to concentrate on characterization, but on capturing a moral mood through light, color, and composition. I'm getting out of my depth here, however. Perhaps luke can chime in.

I have a big problem with anyone who thinks that "A Clockwork Orange" is confusing.

It is the reader's responsibility to consider what the author has written, and it is not a good idea for readers to look at criticism, especially by critics who find "A Clockwork Ornge" comfusing, and never by critics who would misidentify a character in "Tom Sawyer".

Sorry, I meant "Injun Joe". I was typing too fast. What does "confusinf" mean, by the way? And what is a "rader"?

From Kael's review:

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Burgess gave us society through Alex's eyes, and so the vision was deformed, and Kubrick, carrying over from Dr. Strangelove his joky adolescent view of hypocritical, sexually dirty authority figures and extending it to all adults, has added an extra layer of deformity. The "straight" people are far more twisted than Alex; they seem inhuman and incapable of suffering. He alone suffers. And how he suffers! He's a male Little Nell -- screaming in a straitjacket during the brainwashing; sweet and helpless when rejected by his parents; alone, weeping, on a bridge; beaten, bleed- ing lost in a rainstorm; pounding his head on a floor and crying for death. Kubrick pours on the hearts and flowers; what is done to Alex is far worse than what Alex has done, so society itself can be felt to justify Alex's hoodlumism.

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This is "confusing" because the moral vision of the movie is so opposed to normative morality. Kubrick is attempting to manipulate the viewer into holding moral views that the viewer does not hold, which creates confusion.

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Originally Posted by Ecurb

S I was typing too fast. What does "confusinf" mean, by the way? And what is a "rader"?

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I don't know either.

All in good fun.

Kael’s objections to “A Clockwork Orange” are not merely moral objections, but artistic objections. She objects to being manipulated into empathizing with morally repugnant characters, and it ruins the movie for her. I’d suggest that most of us would agree (perhaps not about “A Clockwork Orange”, but about some other work of art).

The problem with this criticism is that it might be equally applied to other works of art that are almost universally recognized as masterpieces. Lolita immediately comes to mind. Are we not led to empathize with Humbert?

Personally... coming from a formalist/art pour l'art approach to art... I don't look to art works for profound meanings or to reinforce my personal moral/ethical/political/social beliefs. I look to art for the journey it takes me on. Perhaps this is not unlike life itself... it is the journey... not the end... the destination... the "meaning" that is important.

While Oscar Wilde must always be taken with a pinch of salt, there is much of value in his Preface to Dorian Gray:

The artist can express everything. Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art. Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art... All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.

I am always wary of moral criticisms of art. On one side of the political spectrum we have those who would expect art to tow the party line, on the other hand we have the dangerous idea that thoughts and feelings that make us uncomfortable... or that we disagree with should be swept under the carpet where they fester and grow.

I’m not sure Kael’s main criticism of “A Clockwork Orange” is that it is morally depraved. Instead, it is that we are crudely manipulated into empathizing with a morally depraved character. Alex’s victims are portrayed not as real people, but as unsympathetic stereotypes. She thinks the film is juvenile and jingoistic: “The film can work at a pop-fantasy level for a young audience already prepared to accept Alex's view of the society, ready to believe that that's how it is.” This same criticism could be made of “Ol’ Yeller” or “Pollyanna”, movies in which the morality is perfectly acceptable.

I agree that we don’t want art to merely reinforce our personal world view. However, when our emotional reactions are crudely manipulated, suspension of disbelief becomes difficult. Instead of feeling the emotional impact of the work of art, we rebel against the manipulation. It is when the art is subtle enough that we are unaware of “manipulation” that art is most effective.

When the hero enjoys crushing small animals to death (as Alex did in the book, although not in the movie) we tend to object to being manipulated into identifying with him. I know (for example) some readers with good, standard taste in literature who hate “Jane Eyre” because Mr. Rochester is a liar, a wife abuser, a libertine, and, in general, a jerk. That’s a reasonable response. If, in a romance, we are asked to identify with a heroine who is in love with a complete loser, this can create a cognitive dissonance that ruins the novel for us.

Here’s Kael again about “Clockwork”: “Kubrick's martinet control is obvious in the terrible performances he gets from everybody but McDowell, and in the inexorable pacing. The film has a distinctive style of estrangement: gloating closeups, bright, hard-edge, third-degree lighting, and abnormally loud voices. It's a style, all right -- the movie doesn't look like other movies, or sound like them -- but it's a leering, portentous style.”

To the extent that great works of art should have a congruence of style and content – both working together to create the emotional response – it’s surely reasonable to suggest that “style” for its own sake is hollow, or "leering and portentous".

I haven’t seen “A Clockwork Orange” for a couple of decades. I remember liking it (although I also remember thinking the endless close-ups of Alex’s suffering during his indoctrination were cloying and annoying). Nonetheless, surely pointing out the moral implications of the film, and the techniques by which they are delivered, is one function of a critique (even if not the most important function in terms of judging how “good” a work of art is). What else are critics supposed to write about? Isn't Kael's reaction to the movie reasonable and interesting? If it is, what more do we want in a critique?

I don't see any moral problem with "A Clockwork Orange" at all. Nor do I see a problem with Kubrick presenting the movie in a way that is sympathetic to Alex. There are excellent reasons for Alex being shown as a character who is worthy of sympathy, because he is. I believe that the purpose of "A Clockwork Orange", both the novel and the movie, was to show that people are often forced into positions where they do nasty things; that it is largely out of their hands whether they do anything good or useful or evil. If one doesn't like the concept that one's path in life may be out of one's hands, then I can understand unhappiness with the theme, but I be lieve that we live in a predetermined universe, so I can sympathize with someone ending up in less than pleasant situations that the person might or might not like being in.

I think that the world would be a better place if Kael had written a piece that simply said: I didn't like it, because it disagrees with my opinion of what life should be.

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Originally Posted by PeterL

I think that the world would be a better place if Kael had written a piece that simply said: I didn't like it, because it disagrees with my opinion of what life should be.

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That would have been a bizarre critique. The critique she did write was (at least) controversial (many people think Clockwork is a great movie) and interesting (she discusses the techniques Kubrick uses to create the desired emotional response). In fact, she specfically addresses your concern: she says that in the novel: "Alex the sadist is as mechanized a creature as Alex the good." However, the movie turns this around (acc. Kael): " Stanley Kubrick's Alex (Malcolm McDowell) is not so much an expression of how this society has lost its soul as he is a force pitted against the society, and by making the victims of the thugs more repulsive and contemptible than the thugs Kubrick has learned to love the punk sadist. The end is no longer the ironic triumph of a mechanized punk but a real triumph. Alex is the only likable person we see -- his cynical bravado suggests a broad-nosed, working-class Olivier -- more alive than anybody else in the movie, and younger and more attractive, and McDowell plays him exuberantly, with the power and slyness of a young Cagney."

In other words, it appears to be Kubrick who disagrees with your view of the universe, not Burgess (the author of the novel) or Kael. The irony of the novel is in the notion that Alex is "conditioned" both before and after treatment, the triumph of the movie is that the punk sadist is finally "free".

And yet, I didn't feel crudely manipulated at all. The problem with Kael's criticism is that it is so dependent upon that point. If one didn't feel manipulated in a crude way, then there really isn't much of Kael's 'critique' that is interesting or really worthwhile. Even the times she discusses things that are actually important (i.e form/style) it seems only to be in relation to that first highly personalised response to the film she had. One can call it an 'artistic' critique if they like, but it really seems no different than any other 'moral critique' I see...like a feminist or neo-Marxist critique. Generally, I think it's a pretty nothing criticism. Then again, I don't have a lot of time for Kael.

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Originally Posted by Pierre Menard

And yet, I didn't feel crudely manipulated at all. The problem with Kael's criticism is that it is so dependent upon that point. If one didn't feel manipulated in a crude way, then there really isn't much of Kael's 'critique' that is interesting or really worthwhile. Even the times she discusses things that are actually important (i.e form/style) it seems only to be in relation to that first highly personalised response to the film she had. One can call it an 'artistic' critique if they like, but it really seems no different than any other 'moral critique' I see...like a feminist or neo-Marxist critique. Generally, I think it's a pretty nothing criticism. Then again, I don't have a lot of time for Kael.

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I agree that SIMPLY giving one’s personal opinion of a work of art doesn’t constitute a critique. It’s self-centered and boring. The critic’s responsibility (since we’re talking about responsibilities) is to discuss the work of art in an interesting manner. However, since stluke mentioned Oscar Wilde, I’ll point out that Wilde in “The Critic as Artist” suggested that criticism is itself an artistic endeavor, beyond feigned objectivity, and necessarily subjective.

Chatty, informal critiques (a style at which Kael was a master) mention the critic’s personal response, but (if they are any good) do so in the context of discussing the work. It seems to me Pierre could make his complaint about ANY critique with which he disagreed. Personally, I think Kael exposes the shallowness of (some of) Kubrick's art. There's plenty of sizzle, but no steak. Obviously (since Kubrick is a highly respected film director) most educated movie-goers disagree.

In any event, rating a critic based on whether he or she has standard, canonical taste (or, simply, the same taste as we do) seems silly. Don’t we admire critics (just as we admire novelists or film makers) who have a unique (but interesting) point of view?

I also don't see what you have against feminist or neo-Marxist criticism, Pierre. They may not constitute the best way to judge the quality of a work of art -- but why should that be the only important value of a critique? Isn't it interesting to look at works of art from a variety of perspectives? (Anything can get boring when overdone, of course.)

As far as Pierre’s “not feeling crudely manipulated” – I wonder what his reaction was to the endless close-ups of Alex being tortured in his re-conditioning program. I still remember (decades later) sitting in the theater thinking, “Enough, already. We’ve been watching these manipulative close-ups of Alex’s suffering face for hours." It seemed like hours, anyway.

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Originally Posted by Ecurb

That would have been a bizarre critique. The critique she did write was (at least) controversial (many people think Clockwork is a great movie) and interesting (she discusses the techniques Kubrick uses to create the desired emotional response). In fact, she specfically addresses your concern: she says that in the novel: "Alex the sadist is as mechanized a creature as Alex the good." However, the movie turns this around (acc. Kael): " Stanley Kubrick's Alex (Malcolm McDowell) is not so much an expression of how this society has lost its soul as he is a force pitted against the society, and by making the victims of the thugs more repulsive and contemptible than the thugs Kubrick has learned to love the punk sadist. The end is no longer the ironic triumph of a mechanized punk but a real triumph. Alex is the only likable person we see -- his cynical bravado suggests a broad-nosed, working-class Olivier -- more alive than anybody else in the movie, and younger and more attractive, and McDowell plays him exuberantly, with the power and slyness of a young Cagney."

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I don't really know anything about Kael, except what is in the review, but I suspect that person is a fairly committed Christian.

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In other words, it appears to be Kubrick who disagrees with your view of the universe, not Burgess (the author of the novel) or Kael. The irony of the novel is in the notion that Alex is "conditioned" both before and after treatment, the triumph of the movie is that the punk sadist is finally "free".

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I disagree. I think that Kubrick set it up as Alex being in a situation over which he had no control, regards of whether it was a situation that he enjoyed. Burgess certainly built it as a predetermined world, and Kubrick did nothing to change that; although I believe that there was somewhat more in the novel.

I read about 2/3 of Pauline Kael's biography, "A Life in the Dark", before accidently leaving it on an airplane, and never bothering to find a new copy. I don't remember her being a Christian, and (based on her lifestyle as a proud, unmarried, single mother) I very much doubt she was.

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Originally Posted by Ecurb

I read about 2/3 of Pauline Kael's biography, "A Life in the Dark", before accidently leaving it on an airplane, and never bothering to find a new copy. I don't remember her being a Christian, and (based on her lifestyle as a proud, unmarried, single mother) I very much doubt she was.

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SHe had the Christian moral point of view anyway.

Why did anyone write a biography of her? I am reasonably sure that I have had a more interesting life, so far, and no one suggested the idea of someone writing a bio of me until earlier today. (Yes, I was talking about starting a journal with a fake enumeration _vol. 35_ on it to make biographers think that the rest had been lost.)

Kael was an important figure in Amrican culture. Her biography was a good book (as much as I remember of it). Here's a link to an article about her, from the magazine she wrote for, THE New Yorker: http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critic...?currentPage=6

I don't think Kael had a Christian moral perspective. Her books all had slangy, double entendre titles, which epitomize her style: “I Lost It at the Movies,” “Kiss Kiss Bang Bang,” “Going Steady,” “Reeling,” “When the Lights Go Down,” “Hooked,” and, “Deeper Into Movies.”

Here are a couple of exerpts from the linked article. The first talks about how Kael changed criticism:

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Another theory suggests that Kael changed the rules of criticism, setting up a new way of evaluating popular art, without concern for prestige or self-conscious sophistication: in her view, a freshly entertaining or arresting movie was successful, and a movie that seemed tired or required unpacking was a flop

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Here the article responds to Pierre's critique of Kael's critique (Pierre was correct that Kael's style was personal and opinionated):

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Kael didn’t just say, This is a bad movie because it fails to turn me on. Instead, she strung movies loosely together, as if mapping out the lines of tradition, and weather-tested them against a couple of things: authenticity of experience and the proved canon of noncinematic art. “Hiroshima Mon Amour,” “The Misfits,” and “La Vérité” failed the first test by moralizing and pathologizing what happened onscreen; certain clued-in viewers were supposed to feel virtuous for watching those films, she thought, which was a contrived and contingent experience. “La Notte,” “Last Year at Marienbad,” and “La Dolce Vita” failed the second test, because their anomie lacked the unmistakable logic of, say, Chekhov’s. (“At a performance of Chekhov’s ‘Three Sisters,’ only a boob asks, ‘Well, why don’t they go to Moscow?’ We can see why they don’t.”) Kael was often accused of watching for plot and character more than for technical craft, and it is not hard to see why. Plot and character communicate effortlessly across time. The finer points of cinematic grammar require cultural education to be appreciated. She cared about audiences’ raw responses—amazement, laughter, recognition—because those responses indicated whether a movie could speak for itself in the long run. She was dowsing for film classics with her nervous system as a guide

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