Why don't they make controversial movies anymore?

There are "controversial" movies today but usually the scandals are generated by the off-screen rhetoric or antics of the star or director (or in the case of last year's The Birth of a Nation, both). There are what I consider to be faux controversies, like the backlash against La La Land as supposedly a "white savior film," which I'll address in a future post. But rarely nowadays does a film itself intend to provoke a strong response from an audience. Even films like Fifty Shades of Grey which are marketed in such a way to prepare audiences for a 'shock,' are destined to fall short because they are unapologetically safe and commercial.

Last night I got to revisit Stanley Kubrick's genuinely controversial black comic masterpiece A Clockwork Orange and I came away with several thoughts -- besides the fact that the movie still holds up as a deeply cynical look at our society's culture of violence, and by extension its anemic inability to address it -- the film also exposes the limits of modern movie making, which is more interested in established properties and franchises, than inspiring debate and an emotional response.

It's impossible not to feel something while you're watching A Clockwork Orange, during it and afterwords. For some viewers, it's revulsion. Even Kubrick himself felt a certain ambiguity about his kinetic mix of violence, sexuality and humor, so much so that he agreed to keep it out of theaters in his adopted home of the U.K. for decades.

Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange

He made several audacious choices -- chief among them to make the lead character of Alex (played in a career-defining, inexcusably Oscar snubbed performance by Malcolm McDowell) likable and funny, despite the fact that he is a sexual predator, a criminal and a truly sociopathic character with only an affinity for the music of Beethoven to humanize him.

The film's detachment from its brutality lends it both its power and potential to offend, but at least it's a movie with some profound ideas in it, and it's not predictable, unless you've read the book on which its based (which it is fairly consistent with). Part of the reason that, like all of Kubrick's best work, it's still so watchable and timeless, is that its themes are still worth being explored. In fact, some elements of the movie resonate even more now than they probably did when the film first came out back in 1971.

Now, look at this year's Best Picture offerings. Most of the films are quite worthy and wonderful, Moonlight, especially, felt like a wholly original and time capsule worthy film. But none of the others are taking the risk of alienating the audience that comes to see them.

Just over 30 years ago, a movie as unconventional as David Lynch's Blue Velvet was at least able to sneak into the Best Director race (although the Best Picture race was pretty tame). This year, not only were there very few films that I would describe as timely, there were almost none that I would call provocative (save for the great, gruesome Green Room).

When the major studios began tightening their belts and shuttering more and more of their independent output, some speculated that this would be the result. Not only are 'prestige' films getting pushed further and further down the calendar, but they are calculated in much the same way blockbusters are -- hence the ability to predict next year's most likely Oscar films now.

Ironically, the best place to find truly invigorating, thought-provoking work has increasingly become the documentary genre, where a movie like I Am Not Your Negro or 13th can say more with found footage than any soaring score over a scripted scene ever could.