It would be more than fitting to start with an, “I usually don’t do this, but …”
I like to stay honest throughout my blogging pursuits and I can specifically quote myself stating, “… I’ll save that for another day.” in reference to Anthony Burgess’s, A Clockwork Orange. Apparently, the day has come to test my integrity, considering The Daily Post rolled out a Daily Prompt marked specially for this occasion; Anachronism. I particularly remember swooning over A Clockwork Orange’s props because of how far in time they seemed from their 1970s release date. Allow me to properly justify my excitement.
Enter the Korova Milk Bar. While still holding to it’s 70s influence with the psychedelic scrawl plastered across the wall, it manages to project our conventional visions of a pristine futuristic society. Take note of the contrast of black and white (with little specks of color), adding to the minimalist influence in futuristic design. The black and white also plays it’s role as a representation of the underground, grungy lifestyle portrayed by Alex (middle) and his droogs (surrounding). When we meet the regular sect of society, the color entirely contrasts this scene.
Here’s the same old Alex wearing the suit of an innocent when facing his parents (and the awkward roommate). This scene satisfies the non-minimalist perception of futuristic society, those who see modern innovation in bursts of color rather than plain and spotless. The color is also a marker for the average citizen, middle-class and up. It ventures from the condemned character rendered in monochrome as our boy Alex sheds his whites, ditches the eyeliner, and steps into his men’s clothes. Of course, there has to be some middle ground between blindingly colorful and blindingly blank. That, we see in the upper class society of A Clockwork Orange.
Here, we see what Stanley Kubrick wants us to envision as the lifestyle of the rich and the famous — of the future. This is the middle ground of futuristic perceptions. We still get plain white, but it’s been downplayed with curvy chairs and colorful cover-ups. Here, again, front and center, we find Alex dawning another one of his many hats — or, I should say, robes. He, too falls in line with the rich specific color palette, dressed in a white, orange-flecked housecoat that mirrors the home of his host. A notable difference between the wealthy versus regular is the coordination of color and neatness of those well off as opposed to the discordance of those beneath them.