You’ve seen guys like this in many a city throughout the world. They stroll down a less busy street, eyes darting back and forth under their hoodies, tried to look casual as they take hold of every car door handle they pass, hunting for one that’s unlocked.

Maybe you’ve even seen them find one that opens. They could be intent on boosting it, or maybe theyll just steal whatever’s inside.

Suppose one of those guys got his comeuppance by robbing the wrong SUV? He gets in, he can’t get out. He can’t call for help. His screams are muffled by extra soundproofing. He can’t bust windows or tire-iron a door or the hatch open. And his captor, the owner, conceives a way to lecture, torment and torture him for being that one car thief that owner is determined won’t get away with it. He won’t even survive it.

That was the killer premise of “4×4,” a claustrophobic, paranoid class war parable that came from Argeninta a few years ago. Reviewing it then, I called it “simplicity itself,” and it was only a matter of time before Hollywood took a stab at it.

Bill Skarsgård plays the scrawny, “street smart” punk who breaks into the wrong SUV and Anthony Hopkins is the sadistic, rich, too-much-time-on-his-hands owner who hectors, hurts and taunts him in “Locked,” an almost note-by-note remake of the Argentinian thriller.

The “politics” of it all may be unusual for a Hollywood production (filmed in Vancouver). It deviates, here and there, from the original thanks at least partly due to the killer casting of the leads. But it has almost exactly the same impact. Simplicity translates easily. “Locked” in a “”4×4” still works.

Eddie should have known better than to open that most luxurious SUV door on the backstreet inner city lot where he found it. He’s “street smart” and reasonably well-read, we learn. “Self taught.” But he never learned Latin.

That tank with the mock Bentley/Tesla shaped badge is a “Dolus.” Any ancient Roman could tell you that’s a warning. “Deceit,” “trickery” — that high-dollar ride is a trap.

A prologue establishes Eddie’s “character,” an urban “loser” who can’t get his run-down van out of the shop, can’t meet his obligations and can’t get help from anybody he calls. Every “I hate to ask” gets him disconnected. Every bit of bargaining with rude big city mechanics earns a brusque “Get the f— outta here.”

He may have his pride, cursing out the stranger who gives him a few bucks, thinking he’s a homeless “junkie.” But he’s an idiot with impulse control issues. He grabs a wallet from the garage where his car is under repair. He spends that donated panhandler cash on a scratchoff.

His ex is “over it.” His little girl wonders if Daddy’s picking her up after school, but she’s starting to figure out the answer will always be “I have a lot goin’ on…I gotta go to work.”

Eddie’s immediate need is $475. And “go to work” means stealing. He needs something worth $475 under the seats, in the glovebox, storage compartment or hatch in that luxe Dolus he ducks into. He finds his doom instead.

He’s too panicked and furious to answer the “Answer Me” calls on the car’s bluetooth. He regrets it the moment he connects.

“Jolly good,” the plummy-voiced old Brit chirps. “Welcome aboard!”

Eddie’s “such a naughty boy.” He’s about to get a lesson in “consequences.” Pulling a Glock and firing it in fury, trying to break a window, only earns him a bloody ricochet round in the leg. Pleas that his captor “call the cops,” earn a dismissive “complete waste of time.”

William, the owner, has has his car broken into six times, he tells the career crook. The police are too distracted to bother with property crimes, even those committed against the rich.

You’re bleeding? “You’re in luck! I’m a doctor.” Tell him where it hurts.

As this SUV is soundproofed, with cell phone and wifi blockers, bullet-proof glass, even getting hold of the tire iron in the hatch is no help. Eddie’s to be starved, denied food and water, and lectured. And when he curses his captor, he’ll be tased. The seats can shock.

Eddie is forced to listen to classical music and William’s personal history as they bicker, curse and debate “justice,” who’s the “criminal” here, Dostoyevsky’s “Crime and Punishment” as Eddie is tortured by deprivation, too much heat, too much AC, and blasts of polka music.

“Communist manifesto!” our would-be oligarch bellows when the topic turns to a world made of haves and have-nots. “So you want ANARCHY!” “No one will miss you” is his reassurance when Eddie’s fate seems sealed.

And God forbid Eddie give his name or allows himself to be coerced into surrendering his Social Security number. We all know what the rich want with that. Or think we do.

“Brightburn” director David Yarovesky makes the violence in-your-face and the action beats kick you and Eddie around. Mostly, though, he just lets two good actors, separated by cell, do their stuff, bite of chewy dialogue and sweat and spit and fume and make their cases. Sympathies will shift and maybe even make you think.

Sure, “Locked” is a remake. It doesn’t hold a lot of surprises if you’ve seen the original. Yes, it has “Hollywood” touches.

But Hopkins and Skarsgård and Yarovesky deliver, even if they leave out my favorite joke from the original film. When all else fails, reading the owner’s manual is the surest sign a guy’s at his most desperate.

Rating: R, bloody violence, drug use and profanity

Cast: Bill Skarsgård and Anthony Hopkins.

Credits:Directed by David Yarovesky, scripted by David Arlen Ross, based on the film “4×4” by Mariono Cohn and Gastón Duprat. An Avenue release.

Running time: 1:35