A Clockwork Orange
A Clockwork Orange
By Anthony Burgess
Directed by Jeremy Seghers
Choreography by William Marchante
Fight Direction by Jason Skinner
Starring Anthony Pyatt Jr.
Presented at DRIP on International Drive
Orlando FL</strong>
Wilding teens are nothing new; it was unsafe to be out in even the nicer quarters of Ancient Rome after dark. The combination of hormones, new found strength and poor parental governance leads to young men on a rampage. If you’re lucky you can direct them in to a war; if not you may end up like the victims of Alex (Pyatt) and his droogies. They live in a dystopian future that lacks the electronic toys of today but does have better drugs. Speaking a patios of English and Russian slang the boys communicate with the audience not so much with precise diction as with ill pronounced rage. After a few glasses of milk and psychoactive they head out into the night to pillage and battle other gangs. The one person Alex seems to fear is their teacher Mr. Deltoid (Scott Browning), but even that chiding isn’t enough to keep them from raping and beating an older couple (Dennis Enos and Jessica Hoehn). Soon enough Alex and his pals land in jail under the hit and miss care of a preacher (Brett Carson). Alex hears rumors of a “cure” that will let him out of jail quickly but he finds it orders of magnitude worse than any prison sentence. He’s made ill and forced to watch violent films as Evil Doctor Eric Branch orates. Soon even doc’s assistant Marcy Schwalm quits out of revulsion. Now Alex is free, only to find rejection from his family and exploitation by his old victims. There’s a flicker of hope at the bottom of the well but he may be too damaged to ever make use of it.
The Drip space is a large cavernous bar located conveniently off the loading dock next to Senior Frog’s, and finding parking in the maze of tow away zones was as dystopian as Burgess’ world. Pyatt was a great Alex: tall and thin, young and snotty, he has the Nadsat patter down. The stage fighting amazes thanks to Jason Skinner, as does Marchante’s less violent choreography. Mr. Carson was up for a rumble; he almost crashed into me during a fight; instead, he left a Brett-shaped hole in the wall. Mr. Enos played Alex’s main victim with total submission; he played a writer who has to watch his wife (Jessica Hoehn) scream in pain as she’s raped in the shadows. Mr. Branch projects with operatic intensity as Alex was “cured”; the cure takes place in a big comfy chair over stuffed with the rest of the cast. Brenna Arden did all the cute girl roles; she was equally adept as Madonna as whore.
Burgess speaks to us through the Preacher; he asks “does God prefer ‘goodness’ or ‘the choice of goodness’?” That’s more philosophy than I care for; I don’t care why you act well so long as you do. Other 1960’s ideas percolate through the story; the effect of psychedelic drugs, psychology as a real cure for mental illness and whether Alex’s actions were the fault of someone other than Alex. But the fun here is the fights; they are brutal, effective and wincing to watch. Come for the milk plus, and stay for the big chair scene. And be careful where you park; it brutal down there.
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