GEORGY GIRL: Blu-ray (Columbia, 1966) Powerhouse/Indicator

A recent census indicates that 40% of all children are born out of wedlock in North America. How sad. But if ever a movie could have – and wretchedly, did – provide the crystal ball into today’s ethical turpitude, it has to be Silvio Narizzano’s Georgy Girl (1966). At once, the picture proves a time capsule for London’s laissez faire ‘swingin’ mod scene, with its bouffant-sporting twenty-something tarts and slickly put together – though emotionally undeveloped - men, full of erotically-charmed vigor but decidedly short on character. It is also an affecting tale of one resourceful wallflower’s cunningly coordinated flight from her second-rate reality as everyone’s gal on the side into…well…we are not entirely sure (more on this in a moment). Georgina ‘Georgy’ Parkin (Lynn Redgrave) is so eager to be loved it hurts. Grappling with her impossibly average – even slightly below  – looks, a wayward roommate, Meredith (played with sultry spite by Charlotte Rampling; Meredith,  preferring the backseat badinage of casual suitors), and, Georgy’s own hot pursuit by a pair of dubious skirt chasers, Jos Jones (Alan Bates) – Meredith’s newlywed husband, and, a lustful old aristocrat, James Leamington (James Mason), our Georgy is the proverbial fish out of water from a social circle drowning in its own excrement. At the time of its release, Georgy Girl was hailed in all the popular trades, the critics falling down in their inebriated praise of this daring showcase for the wild and crazy implosion of youth culture in all its hedonistic glory. Ironically, even the Catholic church offered support, claiming that while Georgy Girl did illustrate dispassionate promiscuity at its absolute worst, its heroine nevertheless aspired to home and hearth, landing herself a well-off strain of hope in the end. Never mind, the girl does not love her new husband, or, that her parents, Ted (Bill Owen) and Doris (Clare Kelly) are elated to pawn off their offspring – an odd ‘ugly’ duckling – into this loveless arrangement simply to be rid of untoward speculation from the neighbors. This isn’t how the Cinderella story is supposed to end, is it?

Georgy Girl briefly made an intercontinental star out of Lynn Redgrave, whose movie career before and after it left a good deal to be desired. As a child, I recalled Redgrave appearing in a series of Weight Watcher’s commercials, emphatically casting aside a ordinary house dress to reveal her form-fitted and shapelier figure beneath, declaring, “This is living.” And, in retrospect, this penultimate digression from the carrot of promised stardom, never to fully materialize, seems grotesquely fitting, as Redgrave’s Georgy is the antithesis of what every young girl of that certain generation sincerely hoped to be; a free-spirited and mini-skirt wearing fashion plate. No, our Georgy is neither haughty nor exclusive. At age 23, when every young girl ought to be at the pinnacle of her ‘come hither’ drawing powers, Georgy is instead a frumpish, brash and awkwardly slapped-together hot mess of a girl – not above sleeping with her best friend’s spouse, or rather crudely appearing in an inappropriate slinky sequined gown at Leamington’s fiftieth birthday to perform a disgustingly crude burlesque, complete with feather boa, for his distinguished guests.  

And yet, all is forgiven – or rather – can be, as Redgrave gives us a dilettante seductress of such perceptively sad isolation and desperation, Georgy, at once, is both pathetic and yet redeemable. Here is a girl who just wants to belong. She craves parental affection – repeatedly denied. She also, so obviously wants to experience love. And finally, she desires to have a baby. Whether or not a man – any man – plays into this idyllic package is inconsequential to our daydreamer. So, perhaps, despite the fact she telescopically seeks the traditional role ascribed a woman, Georgy is nevertheless a proto-feminist, as she achieves these goals on her own terms. Well, and again…sort of. Neither does she need a man to attain motherhood. Finally, she is likely never to be subservient to the old bugger who has just entered into one hell of a bad contract that will afford her every luxury under the sun in exchange for…wait for it…sex – possibly, and, passion-less – definitely!  

Georgy Girl has not weathered the decades; Kenneth Higgins’ grungy cinematography looking even more embalmed in this particular epoch in picture-making when Britain was experiencing its own endemic hiccups and growing pains of the ‘youth movement’; the screenplay by Margaret Foster and Peter Nichols (based on Foster’s novel of the same name) riding the seismic shift in anti-establishment emancipation. Remember, this was the generation that was going to rewrite history and unravel all the wrong that had gone before them. The failure of the sixties to ‘fix’ the cultural mindset of the world (all you need is love…and LSD), but instead, hastened the muddle of everything since, cheapening romance into pornographic exchanges of bodily fluids, and, taking its hammer and tong to the nuclear family, arguably remains the movie’s greatest testament. This isn’t really saying much, as Georgy Girl has all but vanished from our collective consciousness in the years since its general release. If the picture is remembered at all today, it is for the Australian band, The Seekers’ bouncy rendition of the title song, co-authored by Tom Springfield and Jim Dale. The tune, with slightly altered/less depressing lyrics, was a chart-topping single on both sides of the Atlantic in 1966 and was even nominated for an Oscar. Ironically, director Narizzano thought it a hopeless ‘tack on’ to his otherwise ‘serious’ farce.

And yet, Georgy Girl, like Redgrave’s raw and uninhibited heroine, is rather fascinating to behold on its own terms; the picture, refusing to unravel entirely into the sort of inconsequential and hapless muck one might expect to glean from any surface summary of its plot. Yes, it’s still the story of an ugly duckling and a ménage à trois derailed. And yet, there is something greater than the sum of these parts that bears a little deeper probing; a sort of cultural unease and, yes, deconstruction - even moralizing - of the edicts being put forth by what was then laughingly reinforced in feminism as ‘the new woman’.  The notion that every woman could have it all and do it without a bloke pressed against her bodice, herein is mercilessly revealed as both a fallacy and a fraud. Georgy’s life, arguably compromised at birth, is – first - a ‘trade off’, then an outright ‘sell off’ for the things in life she thinks she wants but is quite unable to obtain for herself. Nevertheless, she plays her cards exceptionally close to the vest, taking over a callous girlfriend’s man and baby before ditching the former and whisking the latter to a new arrangement with a ‘gentleman’ old enough to be her father. Still, Georgy’s second male prospect has money – the great leveler of age. Ah, but what would Gloria Steinem say? Unimportant, as far as Foster and Narizzono are concerned. Because each is after the proverbial ‘happy ending’ for this frumpish creature; ‘happy’, decidedly not the same as ‘perfect’.    

Georgina Parkin, a 22-year-old Londoner, far too dowdy for her years, nevertheless possesses considerable musical talent. Thanks to the generosity of her parents’ employer - Ted is James Leamington’s butler/ Doris, his housemaid - Georgy has been well-educated. Perhaps, also owing to her liberal upbringing, she is shamelessly ill-mannered. Or is this just armor to deflect from her gnawing insecurities? Passing shop windows, Georgy cannot help but notice how plain and plump is grotesquely out of whack with the modish ‘toothpick’ thin fashion trends of her generation. Unable to conform (she tries a new hairstyle that comes off as utterly garish), Georgy bitterly bucks society. She is also resentful of her own devasting naivete where men and sex are concerned. Nevertheless, Georgy revels in her inventive imagination, sharing her musical gifts with a school-ful of children. However, things are about to take an unexpected turn as Leamington prepares for his fiftieth birthday party. For the last thirty years, he has remained in a loveless/childless marriage to the perpetually ill, Ellen (Rachel Kempson – nee, Lynn Redgrave's real-life mother). And although Leamington has presumably maintained his fidelity in this union, despite its deficits, he finds a mid-life crisis shifting both his loyalties and affections; once, considering Georgy like his own daughter, but now aspiring to groom her as his kept mistress – especially after she makes a spectacle of herself at the party, cavorting to a sultry burlesque that causes all, except Leamington, to shudder and gasp.

The legalities of the contract Leamington proposes startle even Georgy, who refuses to give her answer just yet. After all, the lecherous goat is old enough to be her father.  Meanwhile, Georgy becomes engrossed in the relationship between her flat mate – the outwardly fair, but inwardly beastly and shallow, Meredith with Jos Jones; a rather feckless upstart who allows erotic passion its dictates. Meredith is a professional violinist, making her way on monies earned from concerts given at Royal Albert Hall.  Like Jos, Meredith is involved with men purely for the self-indulgent pleasure of their company. She has no great interest in ‘settling down’, nor is she particularly interested in falling in love. Thus, she finds Georgy’s meek ramblings about romance rather whimsical at best, and downright idiotic at their worst.  Learning she is pregnant with Jos’ baby, Meredith bluntly – and rather cruelly – informs him this is the third such indiscretion; she, having aborted the first two without his knowledge. Incensed, Jos assaults Meredith. She reciprocates in kind; the two, winding up in a hot-blooded heap on the floor. Indeed, by the end of their frenetic tussle, Meredith has agreed to keep this baby for Jos’ sake. Alas, she quickly is disillusioned by morning sickness and the prospect of becoming a mother. And although Meredith agrees to – and does – marry Jos in a casual ceremony at the Justice of the Peace, witnessed by an ebullient Georgy, the bloom of their wedded bliss is almost immediately worn to a frazzle. On the eve of her delivery, while Meredith is in hospital, Jos seduces Georgy and the two become lovers. Perhaps feeling guilty, Georgy convinces Leamington to cover the expenses of her exuberant shopping spree to furnish the apartment with all manner of necessities and luxuries needed to rear a child.

Doris informs Ted and Leamington that Ellen has died in her sleep. This, of course, frees Leamington up to chase after Georgy on his own terms. After the funeral, he wastes no time remaking the master bedroom in gaudy laces to suit his prospects for procuring a new wife.  Meanwhile, upon giving birth to a beautiful baby girl she names Sara, Meredith coolly insists to Georgy and Jos that she intends to give the child up for adoption and file for divorce. Her cavalier attitude disgusts Jos and infuriates Georgy, who offers to take the baby and rear it as hers. Jos pursues Georgy all over the streets of London, embarrassingly shouting his declarations of love for her as passersby look on in shock. At first, insulted, Georgy takes Jos back to the flat where they consummate their affair yet again. Released from hospital, Meredith promptly moves out with a new lover. But Georgy’s domesticity with Jos is a disaster. Frequently, he is impatient with her investment in Sara’s welfare at the expense of satisfying his carnal lust. Simply put, Georgy has taken motherhood to heart. Jos is not at all serious about being a father. He merely wants to have his fun and play house. As Georgy is now Sara’s sole caregiver Social Services intervene to take the child away from this ‘unstable’ home.

The finale to Georgy Girl is, at once, both celebratory and tragic: Leamington’s proposal finally accepted by Georgy as a means to an end. Given a lavish church wedding, Georgy waves to the well-wishers on the steps from Leamington’s chauffeur-driven limousine, all but ignoring her new husband as she doubly reinvests in Sara’s care. While one can choose to cheer for this frumpish lass, arguably, having found a purpose for the very first time, the great misfortune here is that our Georgy still has not celebrated love on her own terms. What she feels for Sara, at its best, is filtered through a rubric of desperation to mask her genuine emptiness.  Georgy has not achieved motherhood either; rather, the second-hand/second-rate status of a nursemaid. She still has no inkling of passion; certainly, none for the lecherous old fool who has stumbled into this problematic arrangement almost as blindly as his second wife. The re-introduction of The Seekers’ bouncy anthem superficially disguises the solemnity in these final moments before the screen fades to black. But it hardly illustrates a viable solution for the couple’s pending woes. Nor does it entirely misdirect the audience in the general vicinity of a sign post marked ‘happy times ahead’.  Perhaps the best Georgy can hope for is a swift fate to befall her aged benefactor, inheriting his money and properties to live ‘possibly’ ever after with the ward already monopolizing her heart.

At the end of Georgy Girl, we are not entirely certain what our feelings are about either Georgy or the outcome of her rickety-constructed plans for this patchwork future of her own design. Most assuredly, what is here has been precisely calculated by an intrepidly plucky mademoiselle; alas, one thoroughly lacking in any moral compass to make even her deceptiveness stick as it should – except, perhaps in her craw. Lynn Redgrave manages a minor triumph herein, drawing an ounce of empathy from the audience for this misguided and slightly wicked – if thoroughly ‘green’ girl. The movie, in fact, hinges on our ability to unearth a modicum of sympathy for this sad-eyed martyr, estranged from parental love, ostracized by society in general, and marginalized by fair-weather friends, repeatedly to have taken advantage of her goodness, but fail Georgy when she needs them most. Hence, Georgy’s escape from this ‘dead end’ is more of an awkward retreat into the arms of the proverbial ‘dirty old man’ who insidiously lusts after her silliness and sass – hardly the virtues any ‘normal’ man would find appealing. No, Leamington does not love Georgy for herself. Rather, his kink is stirred by the prospect of drawing younger flesh against his own. While sixties feminism would have argued Georgy has played the ‘go getter’s game to perfection, game, set and match, to attained her goals swiftly and without any sacrifices made in tandem, from the vantage of fifty plus years removed, we can clearly see Georgy has not won this war – nor even the immediate battle. She has simply traded the proverbial ‘frying pan’ for the scalding hot embers of the fire.

Georgy Girl arrives on Blu-ray via Powerhouse/Indicator in the U.K. As this is a Columbia Picture, under the custodianship of Sony Home Entertainment, the 1080p transfer herein is ‘region free’. But is it most welcomed? Hmmm. In the past, I have championed the work Sony’s VP Grover Crisp has achieved on the studio’s deep back catalog. And while Georgy Girl was shot quick n’ dirty, on location, and, on a relatively minuscule budget of $400,000 (the picture grossed a whopping $16,873,162 at the box office), the elements preserved and presented here are in less than stellar condition. For starters, the B&W image is decidedly thick, suffering from weaker than anticipated contrast. Never having seen Georgy Girl in a theater, I am unable to state whether or not the picture looked this way projected. But what is here just seems to lose all mid-register gray tonality, even when we move away from the natural light conditions found on location and go into light-controlled sound stages for interiors at Shepperton Studios. Overall, this image just looks unrefined, and infrequently, plagued by heavier than usual amounts of film grain appearing semi-indigenous to its source. As problematic are the age-related artifacts. Georgy Girl’s print has built-in dirt and scratches throughout. At times, these draw undue attention to themselves. Such anomalies ought to have been given a basic clean-up.

The 1.0 DTS mono audio is adequate, but just – intermittently sounding a little too strident, with several overdubs adopting a severely muffled characteristic. Indicator’s extras are noteworthy, beginning with an informative audio commentary by Kat Ellinger. We also get nearly an hour-long interview with Charlotte Rampling from 2001. An all too brief 8-min. interview with Peter Nichols, addressing the social importance of the picture follows, as well as a half-hour homage conducted by editor, John Bloom, and 4-minutes with art director, Tony Woolard. Jim Dale discusses his contributions to ‘the song’ (another 5-minutes). There are also, TV and radio spots and a theatrical trailer. As with other Indicator titles, this one comes with a 40-page booklet of essays, fascinating in their own right, by Leanne Weston and Howard Maxford. Bottom line: Georgy Girl is an unusually forthright and sad-eyed/slightly depressing entertainment. Director, Narizzano’s attempts to ‘lighten’ the severity of the plot, in retrospect, play as more sophomoric than sophisticated. Perhaps, this is part of the picture’s ‘charm’. The Blu-ray, while adequate, is hardly stellar. The extras are a nice touch, but more should have been done to make the print master ready for its hi-def debut. Regrets.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

3