A GROUP of sailors is out for a night on the town. A young stranger, drunk or heavily drugged, staggers into the local bar-disco and creates a disturbance. The bouncer drags him outside and viciously beats him. The stranger is taken, just barely conscious and carrying no identification, to a hospital.
So begins ''Remembrance,'' the film being broadcast on Channel 13 tonight at 11. Produced and directed by Colin Gregg, written by Hugh Stoddart, it is being presented as part of a continuing ''festival'' of programs from Britain's Channel 4. Other films from the same source include ''My Beautiful Laundrette'' and ''Letter to Brezhnev,'' currently in theatrical release here. The one common denominator of these productions is an unblinking exploration of segments of British society that tend to be neglected in dizzy comedies or costume dramas. They deal with aspects of contemporary Britain not found in the tourist brochures.
The British sailors in ''Remembrance'' are preparing to participate in NATO exercises. They are less interested in military maneuvers than in an opportunity to visit San Francisco. They are the young men who have not gotten into the schools and clubs that will insure them a relatively comfortable place within the still rigid class system of their country. Some are inarticulately bitter, some resigned. Most are determined to muddle through life.
Mark (David John) looks at his fretting, decent parents as if they were from outer space. Yet he is the one who cares most about the man dying in the hospital and he is determined to discover the man's true identity. His friend Vincent (Peter Lee-Wilson) is not happy about his blowsy mother having an affair with the owner of the bar-disco and is even less happy about seeing his gentle father reduced to a boozy milksop. Steve (John Altman) is an easygoing ''domestic bloke'' who is not averse to walking off casually with someone else's female friend and triggering a nasty riot.
The stories of these and the other sailors are played out against a background that is nearly always threatening to erupt in either disappointment or violence. Steve's mother has turned into a selfish harridan because it is the only way she knows to survive. A young sailor looks at his pregnant wife and, although loving her, feels helplessly trapped. On television, a naval officer, his upper-crust accent impeccable, assures viewers that all goes well with his rank-and-file wards, while at a local party, Steve snidely tells an older woman that ''I'm proud of what I do - all in the cause of protecting bags like you from the Communist menace.''
The key to the identity of the hospitalised victim is eventually linked to elaborate official ceremonies that took place earlier on Remembrance Day, which commemorates the dead of past wars. Colourful ritual is contrasted with seedy reality. Except for one or two of the bystanders, it doesn't matter whether the victim lives or dies. Mr. Gregg's film dissects very ordinary lives as if it were a documentary instead of a scripted drama. ''Remembrance'' rings with the kind of authenticity usually implicit in cinema-variety exercises. There is no effort made to give the assorted lower-class accents a ''mid-Atlantic'' sheen that might make them more accessible. But the film's content and clout come through clearly
So begins ''Remembrance,'' the film being broadcast on Channel 13 tonight at 11. Produced and directed by Colin Gregg, written by Hugh Stoddart, it is being presented as part of a continuing ''festival'' of programs from Britain's Channel 4. Other films from the same source include ''My Beautiful Laundrette'' and ''Letter to Brezhnev,'' currently in theatrical release here. The one common denominator of these productions is an unblinking exploration of segments of British society that tend to be neglected in dizzy comedies or costume dramas. They deal with aspects of contemporary Britain not found in the tourist brochures.
The British sailors in ''Remembrance'' are preparing to participate in NATO exercises. They are less interested in military maneuvers than in an opportunity to visit San Francisco. They are the young men who have not gotten into the schools and clubs that will insure them a relatively comfortable place within the still rigid class system of their country. Some are inarticulately bitter, some resigned. Most are determined to muddle through life.
Mark (David John) looks at his fretting, decent parents as if they were from outer space. Yet he is the one who cares most about the man dying in the hospital and he is determined to discover the man's true identity. His friend Vincent (Peter Lee-Wilson) is not happy about his blowsy mother having an affair with the owner of the bar-disco and is even less happy about seeing his gentle father reduced to a boozy milksop. Steve (John Altman) is an easygoing ''domestic bloke'' who is not averse to walking off casually with someone else's female friend and triggering a nasty riot.
The stories of these and the other sailors are played out against a background that is nearly always threatening to erupt in either disappointment or violence. Steve's mother has turned into a selfish harridan because it is the only way she knows to survive. A young sailor looks at his pregnant wife and, although loving her, feels helplessly trapped. On television, a naval officer, his upper-crust accent impeccable, assures viewers that all goes well with his rank-and-file wards, while at a local party, Steve snidely tells an older woman that ''I'm proud of what I do - all in the cause of protecting bags like you from the Communist menace.''
The key to the identity of the hospitalised victim is eventually linked to elaborate official ceremonies that took place earlier on Remembrance Day, which commemorates the dead of past wars. Colourful ritual is contrasted with seedy reality. Except for one or two of the bystanders, it doesn't matter whether the victim lives or dies. Mr. Gregg's film dissects very ordinary lives as if it were a documentary instead of a scripted drama. ''Remembrance'' rings with the kind of authenticity usually implicit in cinema-variety exercises. There is no effort made to give the assorted lower-class accents a ''mid-Atlantic'' sheen that might make them more accessible. But the film's content and clout come through clearly
