A Clockwork Orange Page #10

ALEX:

Oh, no.

DIM:

Well, well, well, well, well, well, well, if it isn't little Alex. Long

time no viddy, droog. How goes? Surprised are you?

ALEX:

Impossible... I don't believe it.

GEORGIE:

Evidence of the old glazzies. Nothing up our sleeves. No magic, little

Alex? A job for two, who are now of job age. The police.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DAY

Police Landrover drives up.

Alex is pulled out by Georgie and Dim and hustled up a deserted lane.

DIM:

Come on, Alex. Come for walkies. Hahahahaha.

ALEX:

Come, come, my little droogies. I just don't get this at all. The old

days are dead and gone. For what I did in the past I've been punished.

DIM:

Been punished, yeah?

ALEX:

I've been cured.

DIM:

Been cured, yeah, that was read out to us. The Inspector read all that

out to us. He said it was a very good way.

ALEX:

I just don't get this all. It was them that went for me, brothers.

You're not on their side and can't be. You can't be Dim. It was someone

we fillied with back in the old days... Trying to get his own malenky

bit of revenge after all this time. You remember, Dim?

DIM:

Long time, is right. I don't remember them days too horrorshow. Don't

call me Dim no more, either. Officer, call me.

GEORGIE:

Enough is remembered though, little Alex.

Dim and Georgie laugh.

They drag Alex to a low water through.

DIM:

This is to make sure you stay cured.

Georgie hits Alex in the stomach with his blackjack. Then, they push

his head under the water and methodically start to beat him with their

blackjacks.

After a full minute of this, they drag him out, halt-drowned,

DIM:

(laughing)

Be viddying you some more, some time Alex.

EXT. "HOME" - NIGHT - HEAVY RAIN

Alex stumbles up the road to the entrance gate.

ALEX (V.O.)

Where was I to go, who had no home and no money. I cried for meself,

Home, Home, Home. It was Home I was wanting and it was Home I came to,

brothers, not realising in the state I was in, where I was and had been

before.

Alex stumbles and crawls to the door.

INT. "HOME" - NIGHT

Mr. Alexander at his typewriter.

Julian a 6'4" - heavyweight weight-lifter lies across an exercise bench

working with bar-bells.

The door bell rings.

MR. ALEXANDER

Who on earth could that be?

JULIAN:

I'll see who it is.

He to the door.

JULIAN:

Yes, what is it?

No reply. He opens the door. Alex falls into the hall.

ALEX:

(barely audible)

Help. Help me... Help me... Police.

Julian picks him up like a child and carries him into the living room.

INT. "HOME" - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

ALEX (V.O.)

And would you believe it, O my brothers and only friends, there was

your faithful Narrator being held helpless, like a babe in arms, and

suddenly realising where I was and why HOME on the gate had looked so

familiar. But I knew I was safe. I knew he would not remember me for,

in those carefree days, I and my so-called droogs wore our maskies

which were like real horrorshow disguises.

JULIAN:

Frank, I think this young man needs help.

MR. ALEXANDER

Dear, dear, dear. Whatever happened to you, my boy?

Mr. Alexander, now confined to a wheelchair, pushes himself away from

his desk, and rolls up to Julian. The water drips off Alex's clothes.

They look at each other.

ALEX:

The police... The horrible ghastly Police. They beat me up, sir. The

Police beat me up, sir.

Mr. Alexander stares at him. It becomes apparent he is insane.

MR. ALEXANDER

I know who you are! Isn't it your picture in the newspapers? Didn't I

see you this morning on the video? Are you not the poor victim of this

horrible new technique?

ALEX:

Yes, sir, that's exactly who I am, sir... and what I am... a victim,

sir.

Mr. Alexander becomes frenzied as the speech progresses.

MR. ALEXANDER

Then, by God, you have been sent here by providence. Tortured in

prison, then thrown out to be tortured by the Police. My heart goes out

to you, poor, poor boy. Oh, you are not the first to come here in

distress. The Police are fond of bringing their victims to the

outskirts of this village. But it is providential that you, who are

also another kind of victim, should come here. But you're cold and

shivering. Julian, draw a bath for this young man.

JULIAN:

Certainly, Frank.

He carries Alex off.

ALEX:

Thank you very much, sir. God bless you, sir.

Alexander bites his hand.

INT. "HOME" - BATHROOM

Alex soaks, eyes closed, in a hot tub.

After a while he begins softly singing to himself: "Singin' in the

Rain".

INT. "HOME" - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Mr. Alexander is hunched over the phone, talking in hoarse whipsers.

The door to the bathroom is right behind him. While he speaks Mr.

Alexander throws nervous glances over his shoulder.

MR. ALEXANDER

I tell you, sir, they have turned this young man into something other

than a human being. He has no power of choice any more. He's committed

to socially acceptable acts, a little machine capable only of good...

He can be the most potent weapon imaginable to ensure that the

Government is not returned at the next election. The Government's great

boast, as you know sir, is the way they have dealt with crime in the

last few months. Recruiting brutal young roughs into the police,

proposing debilitation and will-sapping techniques of conditioning. Oh,

we've seen it all before in other countries The thin end of the wedge.

Before we know where we are we shall have the full apparatus of

totalitarianism. This young boy is a living witness to these diabolical

proposals. The people - the common people - must know... must see!

There are rare traditions of liberty to defend. The tradition of

liberty means all. The common people will let it go! Oh, yes - they

will sell liberty for a quieter life. That is why they must be le

Trembling with excitement and madness, Mr. Alexander hangs up the

phone. His eyes, shiny with anticipation. Then, suddenly, he becomes

aware of Alex's voice coming from the other side of the door.

INT. "HOME" - BATHROOM

Alex in bath, singing.

ALEX:

I'm singing in the rain,

Just singing in the rain...

MR. ALEXANDER

His face horribly distorted in a Homeric rage.

INT. "HOME" - NIGHT

Alex, alone, in complete silence. Eating a large plate of spaghetti.

The giant, Julian, appears, carrying Mr. Alexander in his wheelchair.

He deposits him at the table.

ALEX:

Good evening, sir.

MR. ALEXANDER

(very weird)

Good evening.

ALEX:

It was very kind of you to leave this out for me, sir. There was no-one

around when I finished my bath, so I started. I hope that's alright,

sir.

MR. ALEXANDER

(too loud - voice out of control)

Of course. Food alright?

ALEX:

Great, sir. Great.

MR. ALEXANDER

Try the wine!

ALEX:

Thank you very much, sir. Cheers

Suddenly the thought occurs to Alex that the wine may be drugged or

poisoned.

ALEX:

Won't you join me, sir?

MR. ALEXANDER

No, my health doesn't allow it.

ALEX:

(to Julian)

And you, sir?

JULIAN:

No thank you.

Alex, stalling for time, reaches for bottle and reads the label.

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