THE SYSTEM: Blu-ray (Bryanston Films, 1964) Indicator/Powerhouse

It has been said of director, Michael Winner, that he was his own worst enemy. If this is true, it takes nothing away from his capabilities as one of Britain’s most accomplished film-makers; writer, producer, director par excellence – and – the innovative dynamo behind 1964’s The System (a.k.a. The Girl-Getters), to began a life-long friendship between Winner and his star, Oliver Reed, who would go on to appear in 5 more pictures for Winner over the next 25 years. Staunchly conservative, though outspoken in support of gay rights, Winner’s caustic nature, in hindsight, paved the way to a relatively consistent career, toggling between his native U.K. and Hollywood, ultimately to achieve a level of distinction as an action director. Although Winner had already made 8 feature-length movies, The System would mark his first international hit. Released states’ side as The Girl-Getters, The System was exceptionally popular; America – then, having caught the popular zeitgeist for all things British, as well as tapping into the changing times and tastes of picture-goers. The movie’s half-ass ‘critical’ praise – it was given ‘honorable’, if back-handed, mention in both the New York Times and Variety – bewildered Winner. By the time The System made it across the pond, nearly 4 years had passed. Time to be ‘fashionable’ again, I suppose. And Winner, never one to shrink from controversy, or promote a little of his own, was decidedly circumspect here, if frank about what the future might hold, commenting in 1972, “I’ve never had the Oscars and I’m not regarded as the Bergman or Bunuel of the British industry…and I don’t imagine I ever will be. I’d like more appreciation in my own country. It does hurt when I read what I can only call ‘trivial consideration’ of my work. People will never forgive me, you see, for being right…and, I’m right most of the time.”

The System offers a candid, un-embroidered view of love as a commodity, easily confused with lust, and, even more effortlessly traded for sex. Set in the fictional seaside resort community of Roxham (although shot mostly in Devon), we arrive upon a rough-hewn gang of marvelous hooligans, front-lined by the fantastically nefarious Oliver Reed – all of 26 yrs. old in 1964. In later years, Reed would cultivate a reputation as a deliriously unhinged alcoholic and hellraiser; an ‘impression’ to linger and largely black-ball him in the industry; perhaps, partly warranted, but mostly skewed by the media to discount the actor as a ‘difficult’ personality. To be sure, there was no shortage of self-inflicted ‘incidents’ to fan the flames of this tainted repute; Reed, often giving interviews while clearly under the influence. And yet, Reed’s physical stature – a rather stocky build, capped by a squared-jawed head of a pit-bull, with as penetrating a stare, to pierce through cement and melt steel, seems remarkably at odds with his precise, aristocratic tenor. The way an Englishman speaks absolutely classifies him. But in Reed’s case, it remained difficult to deduce whether he was of the working class, exorcising his vices as a boozer/baller and brawler, or the haughty heir, to have secretly forsaken money and position, simply because he could never directly relate to them.

Reed’s female costar in The System, the luscious Jane Merrow (a last-minute replacement for Julie Christie, whom Winner desperately wanted for the part) has gone on record, stating, that although Reed enjoyed carousing at the bar, and, could be counted upon to have a devious streak, it was hardly sadistic. Indeed, when a scene in The System called for Reed’s character, semi-pro photog, Tinker to haul off and belt Merrow’s Nicola, Reed repeated threw his slaps (a term, for staged fighting) until Winner demanded he give the actress her due with a good, clean wallop. “It hurt like hell,” Merrow later reflected, “But it wasn’t Oliver being a sadist.” The System unravels a tempestuous ‘fictional’ summer romance between Tinker and Nicola - an interesting twist on the usual ‘boy meets girl’ fodder, as this boy, unabashedly celebrated as a rough-housing cad, who uses women like Kleenex, is, himself, taken by the ‘entitled’ girl from the affluent upper classes.

Nicola is out of Tinker’s league. Therein lies the conquest. While Tink’s approach to hunting girls is meant to lead him into just another disposable summer tryst, their first ‘cute meet’ – he plants a wet one during a lavish house party while barely introduced to her, sheepishly to admit a moment later he should have waited for their second date to commit to such a kiss, and to which she, already having tagged his modus operandi, casually tosses off, “It would have been a change” – Tinker is in for a rather rude awakening. Indeed, he has already exposed far too much of that heart he otherwise coolly professes to lack. Tinker’s crew is made up of a stellar brood of up-and-comers; David Hemmings as David, Ian Gregory (Sammy), John Alderton (Nidge), Clive Colin Bowler (Sneakers) and Andrew Ray (Willy).  And while The System is decidedly skewed to appeal to male adolescence – a story about a bunch of oversexed mates, out to get all the tail they can while the summer sun hangs high in the sky – the women who fall victim to their clear-cutting carnal lust are as carefully wrought and expertly played; first, and foremost, by Merrow – whose appeal as the aloof model in full ‘princess-mode’ is uneasily erotic without even trying. Ann Lynn, as Ella – just one of Tinker’s wounded cast-offs – is sublime too in all her self-pity.

The chest-thumping male machismo – affected or otherwise – on display in The System, speaks to a more carefree era when certain liberties could still be taken with the fairer sex, ostensibly, without reprisals (no ‘Me Too’ movement then!); the bright young holidaymakers, unsuspecting, or perhaps anticipating being trolled for their female flesh. Tinker is a legit seaside photographer by day, working for Larsey (Harry Andrews), to whom he owes his livelihood. Tinker’s the tough sort though. He does not suffer fools or the competition, landing out-of-town photog, Alfred (Derek Newark) on his pompous ass during a rather violent confrontation inside a ballroom. Having tapped into the lucrative sideline of free sex, Tinker exploits his profession to procure names and addresses, later shared with his mod squad of bad boys, eager to rack up as many conquests. The slick maneuvers by which these boys get in their licks – literally and figuratively – creates a minor monopoly on free love into which newcomer, David stumbles.  David's initial reluctance – as ‘the virgin’ of the piece - as he quietly observes Tinker’s well-oiled machinery kick into high gear, even more startlingly gives way to David’s keen abilities to apply Tinker’s methods to practical usage, so that, by the end of the picture, he is all set to usurp Tink’s leadership. At first, Nicola is presented as just another of the easy marks – albeit, a cut above, sporting an air of world-weariness we later discover is the result of her working for several years as a model. Sensing Tinker in her midst, though as easily having pegged his dishonorable intentions, she nevertheless allows him to make his move – it amuses her – but only to choose for herself the right opportunity to allow him into her bed. All this occurs in a sort of ‘matter-of-fact’ way that is both refreshing – and outwardly genuine – and yet, a tad off-putting to Tinker – unaccustomed to playing the part of the fool.

To reaffirm his male pride and gird his loins for a day’s outing with the accomplished Nicola, in whose social circles he later finds himself to be decidedly ill-equipped, Tinker instead seduces Lorna (Julia Foster) in his archetypal callous way - to take the edge off. Having planned for an unspoiled day on a stretch of deserted beach, Tinker muses Nicola with physical feats – the poor man’s way of showing off. And, although he is momentarily successful in this primary objective – she does, in fact, find Tinker marginally charming, strips naked for a quick skinny-dip, before bedding him inside an abandoned stone cottage near the sea – from this moment on, Tinker will be the one taught in an abject lesson of England’s well-ensconced class distinction. Nicola can make love without actually being in love, just like him. Recognizing the awkwardness in their advancing affair, Nicola’s father (Guy Doleman) lures Tinker to the family’s home - a chance for him to see just how out-classed he is; deliberately antagonized by Nicola’s hoity-toity fair-weather friends, and, ruthlessly defeated during a tennis match. Worse, for Tinker, as the ‘elder statesman’ of his gang, he has begun to realize time is running out. Indeed, when Nidge informs Tinker he will marry the girl he accidentally impregnated while on one of his devil-may-care conquests, asking, not only for Tink’s acceptance, but also to be his ‘Best Man’, it suddenly dawns on Tinker, he is at the tail end of a young man’s game. Time to grow up and, presumably, become a real man. Begrudgingly accepting his duties as MC at Nidge’s wedding, Tinker marginally blows the reception off by getting snookered and then turning up at Ella’s flat while her own unsuspecting husband is away. Tinker and Ella had ‘a thing’. Only now, rather bitterly and begrudgingly, it is over. While Ella longs for Tinker’s touch, she cannot abide the man who so readily tossed her out like the rubbish, returning to her only when no other prospects are at hand.

Hooking up with an inebriated Suzy (Barbara Ferris) at the post-reception beach party in Nidge’s honor, Tinker laments he cannot get Nicola out of his heart. While the drunken revelers burn the ‘happy couple’ in effigy on a pyre of sticks, a manic scene ensues in which David seizes the opportunity to lead the parade of wild-eyed revelers. Meanwhile, Tinker takes Nicola to his flat where they again make love. But by the steely blue-gray of early dawn, remorseless, informs she is off to Rome for two months’ work on another modeling job. Believing he has been taken advantage of by Nicola, Tinker belts her in the mouth; then, even more bizarrely, professes his love. She accepts this as his apology. But their amicable parting fools no one. Theirs’ was a summer affair. As the season is now over, so too is the relationship – loosely predicated on nothing more than casual sex. Nicola and Tinker find David, Willy and several other gang members on the beach, preparing to toss an upright piano into the surf to mark the end of summer. As Nicola looks on, Tinker, hands in his pockets, bids her goodbye, superficially promising to write while knowing they will never see each other again. He rejoins his gang on the beach. Nicola gets into her car and drives off.

The System is a starkly contrasted minor masterpiece, rarely discussed, or even included as part of the short list of truly outstanding British New Wave classics, Room at the Top (1959), Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (1960) and A Kind of Loving (1962) among them. Nevertheless, The System typifies that resplendent ‘go to hell’ attitude of mod-ish sixties cinema, ironically, to neatly fit into our current cultural malaise and disenchantment with life in general. Shooting amidst the real tourist trade in Brixham Harbor, Elberry Cove, Paignton Beach and Torquay, adds ambiance and genuineness to the piece; Nicholas Roeg’s cinematography, with blown out contrast, reconstituted as a highly-stylized monochromatic palette. Winner, then, age 29, and, the youngest director working in British cinema, is obviously inspired by Peter Draper’s clever screenplay. These characters speak with a sort of ‘brass tacks’ sophistication, more honest than witty, and just as razor-sharp.  And, while The System may have come late to New Wave’s party, it nevertheless remains influential, while ruffling the British censor, John Trevelyan, primarily over Tinker’s veiled offer to Nidge - a phone number for an abortionist to make all his problems go away; also, a brief flash of bare breasts – perhaps, the first ever in a legitimate movie. Mercifully, The System avoided the censor’s dreaded ‘X’ certification, after renown producer, Michael Balcon screened the picture, withstood the criticism and championed its general release against the strenuous objections of the Chief censor, Herbert Morrison, who had pursued a campaign to ban the picture.  

If The System does have a flaw, it remains the penultimate wedding sequence and its aftermath beach party. From Tinker's inelegantly curt and scruffily indifferent speech as Nidge’s Best Man, to the torch-lit and rain-soaked revelry in which David asserts his newfound position within the gang, The System departs into an uber-reality on an almost Fellini-esque scale. But this just seems to come out of nowhere and is grotesquely a disconnect from all that has gone before it.  The best sequence in the movie is undoubtedly Tinker meeting his match against Nicola’s sycophantic rich friends; the disparate importance of their affair pared by class distinction, culminating with the badly bungled tennis match, where Tinker is badly beaten by Ivor, an upper-class twit (Jeremy Burnham) whose insufferable ego and manners are not all that more contained than his own. Winner’s direction is a miracle here; moving with a tenacity that is swift, though never hurried. And Winner’s faith in Oliver Reed, whose early career in Hammer horror movies almost tainted his reputation to even be considered herein, is justly rewarded by Reed’s superb central performance as this brooding Lochinvar who has been had – and suddenly, comes to know it. Reed and Merrow have a wonderfully sad symbiosis as the diametrically different lovers.  Reed is an acquired taste. Indeed, his bravado, as well as his impenetrable self-confidence, are often intimidating hurdles to overcome at a glance. And indeed, Reed – in life – similarly affected the impression he could suddenly break from the strain of cordiality to throttle anyone who challenged, or even marginally questioned, his self-anointed authority. So, to discover Tinker left to sheepishly lament the loss of this one ‘great love’ is a refreshing twist on Reed’s public persona. It works, as does the movie.  

Indicator’s new Blu-ray is uneven at best. While it does capture Nicholas Roeg’s textured cinematography, especially in close-up, the high-contrast monochromatic image intermittently falters into a sort of muddy, slightly out of focus, and very thick visual presentation with exaggerated grain levels that threaten to distract. In close-up, detail is nicely realized, though never entirely crisp. Certain exterior daytime sequences suffer from heavily blown-out contrast, while night scenes occasionally appear slightly under exposed. Age-related artifacts are mostly absent, but there is edge enhancement scattered throughout. The PCM 1.0 mono is strident to a fault.  I found this audio presentation grating on the acoustic nerve; dialogue, scratchy; music cues, blaring to the point of distortion and excessive reverb. Extras include a fairly comprehensive audio commentary from Thirza Wakefield and Melanie Williams. We also get, nearly 20 minutes with Jane Merrow, who has amazing recall. John Porter-Davison pays a brief homage to the on-set party-like atmosphere, and, Jeremy Burnham offers a few anecdotal stories about what occurred during the in-between times, after the cameras stopped rolling. There is also an image gallery. Finally, we get ‘Haunted Britain’ – a half-hour short by Winner – remarkably, in good shape, but otherwise a real dull affair. Indicator’s handsome booklet with notes from author/critic, Andy Miller, and excerpts from an interview with Winner, plus lots of glossy photos, is a Criterion-styled winner in its own right. Bottom line: The System is a good solid movie that is overdue for rediscovery. Rumor has it, the original plan was to get The Beatles to record the songs, eventually done by The Searchers. If only The Beatles had been involved, The System would likely have endured as part of their pop canon. Regardless, the picture is a solid and sobering entertainment, well worth your coin. This Blu-ray is hit or miss in terms of quality. So, judge and buy accordingly.

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

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

3