A theater production of Anthony Burgess’ “A Clockwork Orange” doesn’t exist in a bubble and Stray Cat Theatre director Ron May knows it.
In the company’s latest show, you can see how he struggles against the “Clockwork” we know — the 1971 cult-classic Stanley Kubrick film — in hopes of creating something fresh without alienating audiences.

Which is why his cast ditches any semblance of Brit mod style or Cockney accent but still relishes the pseudo-
Russian slang (all droogies, viddies and devotchkas with tolchocks on their litsos) that Burgess whittled to fit in the mouth of Alex, his apathetic troublemaker teen protagonist, who is sent to the pokey after tolchocking one woman on the litso too hard, killing her.

What gets the “Clockwork” story ticking is when Alex is offered up as a guinea pig for a new form of aversion therapy that makes him violently ill anytime he feels like revisiting his old hobby of ultraviolence. When it backfires ironically, it’s a commentary on society’s desire to quell free choice for the greater good.

The lack of accent we’ve come to associate with “Clockwork” is jarring, but it doesn’t burst anyone’s bubble, because May and company have succeeded in elevating a familiar, if disturbing, tale to a higher piece of art. On a set that’s nothing more than three diamondplate risers, scenes of ultraviolence and brutal sex are transformed into percussive impressionist art — against slaps to the floor and clangs of wood and metal for violent foley sound effects, gang rumbles become interpretive square dances, beatings are played out in slow-motion like “Matrix”-style bullet-time and a harsh rape is made even more cringe-worthy (but less revealing) in a way I can’t describe in a family newspaper. None of it would earn higher than a PG-13 rating, but the effect is very R.

Less successful, though, are choices in casting and costuming. Arizona State University student Jonothon Howard’s Alex has none of the deliciously dark depth that Malcolm McDowell oozes in Kubrick’s film (his ironic sneer is the stuff of brilliance); comparatively, Howard’s Alex is a softie, with a deep stage voice and seemingly little to back it up. This cutie is a vicious teen gang leader?

In May’s contemporary update, Alex and his gangmates are dressed like Hot Topic faux-punks, which further disconnects the characters from their intended brutality.

Otherwise, Stray Cat’s “A Clockwork Orange” is worth seeing, even for die-hard devotees of Kubrick’s version, who will be pleasantly surprised (especially by the ending, which comes from the book, not the flick).

But how’s this for a more resonant adaptation: “Clockwork” in South Central Los Angeles, with Crips instead of the pasty white boys we’ve come to expect? That would be fresh.