Maybe it's the constant chatter in the name of Stanley Kubrick and his "masterpieces" that left me with unrealistically high expectations for this film. Or perhaps it's due to the fact that I've never read the book. Whatever the case may be, A Clockwork Orange did nothing for me. I wanted very much to like it, but it did nothing for me. While watching the movie, I understood that there was some greater meaning beneath the surface. After the first raping of a young woman, however, I couldn't even appreciate the rest of the movie. I began to realize that this wasn't just a one-time event in the film, and I lost interest quickly. I only continued watching in the same way that you can't look away from a car crash when you see it happening, no matter how much you want to look away. At times, I felt a slight emotional pang in my stomach for our "humble narrator", but that was as far as my connection with this movie went. As the credits rolled, I felt dazed, exhausted, and desensitized. It occurs to me that that's most-likely the intended effect of this Kubrick film, but I just can't appreciate it. Nor do I truly understand the appeal A Clockwork Orange. My one positive remark is that Kubrick has an undeniable talent for composing artistic shots and pursuing a distinct style, to which I commend him. That's about as far as it goes in my opinion, however.