Movie Review: A Locksmith lives to Regret Taking that One “Night Call”

I’m of two minds about that subgenre we call the hero/heroine with “particular skills” thriller.

The parade of Liam Neeson/Jason Statham/John Cena et al action pictures where this mobster, that rogue government or rogue government agency or creepy neighbor crosses this or that mild-mannered man or woman who turns out to be ex-CIA, a retired Marine, a former assassin or Navy SEAL has worn out its welcome.

Somebody effs around, somebody finds out they’ve “Taken” the wrong relative, crossed the wrong professional mayhem-maker. Yawn.

It’s always more interesting when somebody a lot more ordinary is tested by an extraordinary situation, and by people ostensibly a lot more capable of what Mr. or Ms. In Over Their Heads is attempting. “Three Days of the Condor” is the template for this sort of film. A more recent example is the snowplow operator tracking down and avenging himself on his son’s mob killers — “In Order of Disappearance.”

Throwing somebody with one “particular skill” that doesn’t include violence, criminal or espionage subterfuge or the like? As an exercise in screenwriting problem-solving that’s almost always a fun film to watch. That’s why I have high hopes for Rami Malek’s upcoming spring fling, “The Amateur.”

Let’s hope that’s as good as the lurid, violent and tight-as-a-drum Belgian thriller, “Night Call.” A young man (Jonathan Feltre) is tricked, trapped and life-or-death tested by one long night at work.

Mady is a student, we gather, and a native-born Belgian with a thing for Petula Clark ’60s pop — in French. His night gig is as a locksmith. On this one night, that job will get him into trouble despite his best efforts to avoid it. And his “particular skills” and the tools of his trade will come in handy just enough to make you mutter, “clever, clever boy” at the screen and what writer-diector Michiel Blanchart has cooked-up for his feature filmmaking debut.

Mady’s the guy you summon when you’ve locked yourself out of your car, business or flat in the wee hours. He’s professional, courteous and honest. No, the quoted price — 250 Euros — is all you owe.

He’s also careful. The young woman named Claire (Natacha Krief) summons him to a Brussels flat she’s locked out of. She doesn’t have the 250. It’s in her purse, in her flat. With her keys. No, that’s where her ID is, too. As she’s flirted, just a bit, and the streets all around them are consumed by Black Lives Matter protests because Black people die at the hands of white cops in Belgium, too, he takes her word for it.

Mady might be the last to figure out that her last lie, about “taking out the trash” (in French with English subtitles) and hitting the ATM downstairs, is her get-away. When she rings him up and warns him to “Get OUT of there” (in French with subtitles) he’s still slow on the uptake.

That’s when the apartment’s real resident, a musclehead with a punching bag and lots of Nazi paraphrenalia on the walls, shows up and tries to beat Mady to death. He fails.

But can a young Black man call the possibly racist cops about what’s happened and have them believe him? Maybe not. It’s when he’s trying to “clean” the scene of the “crime” that he’s nabbed, and his night of hell escalates into torture, threats and attempts to escape from the mobster (Romain Duris at his most sadistic) in pursuit of stolen loot and the “real” thief, the elusive but somehow conscience-stricken “Claire.”

As Hitchcock always said, “Good villains make good thrillers.” Duris, recently seen in the French “The Three Musketeers” and “The Animal Kingdom,” famous for “The Spanish Apartment” and “Chinese Puzzle,”, is the classic thriller “reasonable man” heavy.

“Either you become a friend, or a problem,” his Yannick purrs, in between pulling the garbage bag off the suffocating kids’ head, only to wrap Mady’s face in duct tape, a more creative bit of asphyxiation.

The spice that Blanchart seasons his thriller with is the backdrop — street protests, with Black protesters furious that Mady isn’t joining them and riot police pummeling and arresting every Black face in sight. That’s jarringly contrasted by the oasis-of-calm subway and unconcerned discos where Mady chases clues and Claire.

A getaway on a stolen bicycle, dashing through streets and down into a subway station, suspense via frantic escapes, frantic bits of outwitting or outfighting crooks and cops, a decent confrontation with the not-cute-enough-to-excuse-all-this Claire and a satisfying “ticking clock” finale?

That’s what makes a good thriller. And if those “particular skills” show up here and there, at least we know Mady’s learned something on a job that if he lives to finish school, won’t be his career.

Rating: unrated, graphic violence, sex scenes in a brothel

Cast: Jonathan Feltre, Natacha Krief, Jonas Bloquet, Thomas Mustin and Romain Duris.

Credits: Scripted and directed by Michiel Blanchart. A Magnet release.

Running time: 1:37

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Netflixable? A cuppa “Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl,” if you please

Well cor blimey and “butter me crumpets,” Wallace & Gromit are back.

Britain’s most adorable exports since the Minis — the Cooper and the Skirt — are back for another twee stop-motion animated farce that reminds us of how much we’ve missed them.

“Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl” sees our keep-calm-and-keep-inventing duo still snug and comfy in their Wallace & Gromit “Escape to the Country” small town living. But doggoned if the Foe that Made Them Famous — the disguised pengiun known as Feathers McGraw — isn’t ready to escape prison and finish the heist that began back in “The Wrong Trousers,” nearly 30 years ago.

And this time, he’ll pin his “blue diamond” theft on hapless Wallace and his always-underestimated “best pal,” Gromit.

Wallace’s latest invention is a help-around-the-home digital garden gnome, a “smart gnome” who can “tidy up” your garden, clean your house, make your tea and do your knitting, all chores those pottering Brits are famous for loving to do the old fashioned way.

“Norbot” (voiced by Reese Shearsmith) is a persistent, quick-learning bot who just might be Wallace’s first lucrative invention ever. He’ll program the robot to make more Norbots and hire them out as handy-gnomes.

“The more Norbots, the merrier,” the broke Wallace crows. “What could possibly go wrong?”

The dog knows. The dog always knows.

Feathers McGraw, doing hard time (for an Adelie penguin) in a local zoo, silently and expressionlessly cooks up a scheme to hijack the gnomes, bust out of “prison” and pin all sorts of crimes on Wallace, and by extension Gromit.

The late voice actor Peter Sallis died in 2017, and there really is no replacement for that daft, befuddled and ever-cheerful “blokety bloke” North Country accent he summoned for the screwball inventor who always has his biscuits saved by his clever boy dog. So longtime Wallace & Gromit filmmaker Nick Park got actor Ben Whitehead to come in and do his best Peter Sallis. It works.

But as amusing as Wallace’s sputtered reactions to their predicaments always are, as cute as the work song the singing gnomes compose might be — “We break our little backs, and never stop to have a brew ’cause we’ve got battery packs!” — it’s the parade of sight gags that sell these clay-animated comic jewels.

Gnome puns abound. Gromit’s mastered using his retractable leash as a grappling hook. Gadgets like Wallace’s ever-evolving “wake me up/bathe me/dress me/jelly me toast” conveyor belt/amusement park ride tickle.

To break Feathers out of the zoo, the gnomes DIY an escape submarine out of the sheds and contents of sheds from assorted English gardens. Naturally, they don’t forget to include a pipe organ. Every Brit villain should know how to play Bach’s Tocatta and Fugue in D Minor, even the penguins.

And what penguin escape would be complete without a nun’s habit as a disguise?

Chief Inspector MacIntosh (Peter Kay) now has a new trainee, Police Constable Mukhergee (Lauren Patel), one way these films have “evolved” over the decades. Aardman Animation has taken DEI lessons to heart, as this film looks like the clay-animated diverse Britain of today.

Granted, both MacIntosh and Mukherjee leap to the wrong conclusions about who the “bad’un” is here. MacIntosh is long enough in the tooth to still refer to the police as “Old Bill.” He’s distracted by dreams of a puttering retirement on his canal boat (“narrowboat”), which he’s named “Dun Nickin’.”

There are more grins than laughs in this outing, but Aardman addicts (myself included) will get a kick out of “The Night of the Hunter” and other film references, at the sight gags that land hard and the ones that just tickle.

It’s comforting to think there’ll always be an England, and even more comforting to hope that there’ll always be a Wallace and his Gromit “over there” to amuse us.

Rating: PG, kiddie slapstick, one very funny man-on-a-toilet gag

Cast: The voices of Ben Whitehead, Peter Kay, Lauren Patel, Reese Sheersmith, Lenny Henry, many others

Credits: Directed by Nick Park and Merlin Crossingham, scripted by Mark Burton and Nick Park. An Aardman Film for Netflix.

Running time: 1:22

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Movie Preview: Bad times on a Wisconsin farm — Can the Packers save it? “Green and Gold”

Irony is dead in “conservative” virtue signalling cinema like this Craig T. Nelson (Don’t get me started.) star vehicle.

Bank’s about to take his farm. Banker offers to bet on Green Bay’s lone tourist attraction to give him time, and it all comes down to a “miracle” season from that government hand-out stealing dick pic mailer Brett Favre.

Jan.31.

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Movie Preview: Kristen Stewart, Steven Yeun, after the apocalypse — “Love Me”

Can an ocean-monitoring buoy and a satellite find “love?” Via, we assume, their avatars?

This trippy, existential sci fi romance from the Zuchero Brothers comes out just before Valentine’s Day.

Jan. 31.

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Movie Preview: Griffin Dunne, James Norton, Rosanna Arquette and Richard Benjamin — “Ex Husbands”

Griffin Dunne plays winds up crashing a vacation bachelor party his sons are attending,

He’s splitting up from Rosanna A., his dad (Richard Benjamin) is splitting from his latest. And one of his sons (Norton) is breaking up.

Greenwich Entertainment is serving up Noah Pritzker’s dramedy right after Valentine’s Day (Feb. 19 release).

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Classic Film Review: Baby Brian (De Palma) and Baby Bobby (DeNiro) — “Hi, Mom!” (1970)

Brian DePalma’s fourth “experimental” indie feature is a time capsule of New York in decay and political disarray. It’s the movie in which his no budget guerilla filmmaking connected with the zeitgeist, and an audience of the young and the hip, which “launched” him and his first muse, Robert De Niro and put both on the path to bigger and better things.

“Hi, Mom!” (1970) is Tom Wolfe’s “Radical Chic” in cinematic form, a smart yet seemingly slapdash pastiche that’s part parody — in the “Hellzapoppin’,” “The Kentucky Fried Movie,” “The Groove Tube” and more recently “more recently Movie 43” tradition.

We see New York racism and slimy slumlords at their worst. De Palma sends up TV and public radio news, socially conscious documentaries and revolutionary, race-baiting theater. A porn industry on the cusp of “Deep Throat” respectability is ridiculed by the notion that “art” is what these sleazeballs are making and selling.

Uneven, amusingly organized and painfully dated, one can see flashes of De Palma’s bracing, under-your-skin technique and De Niro’s “Taxi Driver” Travis Bickle in between the dark and even disturbing laughs served-up.

De Niro plays Jon Rubin, a Vietnam Vet and aspiring movie maker who figures he’ll break into “the business” by shooting a peeping tom “Rear Window” for motor-mouthed producer Joe Banner (Allen Garfield, hilarious).

“It that art?” Banner wants to know as Rubin tags along with him as he’s watching dailies from others’ peep show pictures. Rubin follows Banner into a porn house cinema, where both men are groped by other men. Banner sees this as a moment where the kid learns respect for his audience — within reason.

“A pervert,” he says of one groper. “Leave him alone. Who knows where he’s been?”

Rubin needs $2000 and a zoom lens to shoot an 8mm silent (sound to be added later) movie. He’ll film from a rented slum, peeking through the windows of an artist putting a model through her poses, a radical (early De Palma collaborater Gerrit Graham) dabbling in activst art and Black theatre and the frolics of a group of single girl roommates who dress and undress and date in front of Rubin’s unblinking lens.

Actually, he does blink…and doze off during his vigil. It’s when he hits upon a way to get his producer the sort of sexual content he craves that we see the DIY nature of indie cinema in an era when cameras, film and everything else was beyond the reach of most and only the most creative, persistent and often ethically flexible could get their movie made.

Rubin will lie and trick his way into that girl group apartment, date and seduce the wallflower of the lot (Jennifer Salt). And he’ll contrive an filming elaborate set-up that entails using a clock radio, a camera, a red light wired to let him know he’s out of footage and two watches to time that footage as he launches into that seduction.

Little does Rubin know that young New York women of the era are a lot more sexually sophisticated and “open” than they might have been before he went off to Vietnam.

Later, we’ll see this “couple” progress into a marriage where he’s still dabbling with revolutionary politics — bombing their high rise’s laundromat as a “statement.” And “Hi, Mom!” will transition into its most riveting segment, a black and white documentary about a movement turned radicalizing theatre production.

“Be Black Baby” begins with man and woman on the street interviews with white New Yorkers who are questioned about if they know what it’s like to be “Black” or “a Black woman in New York City?” It’s for a TV documentary.

That documentary breaks format as Rubin auditions for the role of a New York cop — racist, violent and unaccountable — in a production of an evening of interactive theatre. “Be Black Baby,” for which the radical artist (Graham) has painted a nude model black as an advertising come-on, will put “liberal” white New Yorkers on the ground floor of a radically hip new theatrical experience.

Black activist/actors (Carole Leverett, Bubby Butler, Carolyn Craven, others) will bring the well-heeled in pursuit of a unique “experience” they’ll be the first to see. Theatergoers will be questioned, chastized, talked into surrendering their wallets and purses and dignity as they’re painted in blackface by Black actors in whiteface.

Confused, disoriented, not wanting to come off as racist or unhip, they endure this right through the racist taunting that begins when they’re in sloppy blackface, then assaulted and robbed. And when a cop (De Niro’s Rubin) shows up, he only listens to the folks in whiteface, doubling down on the abuse and dehumanization of the Upper East Side whites in blackface.

It’s far and away the cleverest thing in “Hi, Mom!” and a big reason this movie resonated with underground cinema fans who’d moved on from the amateurish “experiments” of Andy Warhol and others of the ’60s.

De Palma would soon transition to studio-backed horror (“Carrie,” “The Fury”) and thrillers (“Dressed to Kill,””Blow Out,” “The Untouchables”). Through blockbusters, acclaimed thrillers and bombs, he never quite hit “respectability” until people started looking back at his career.

De Niro was soon to break out of “The Godfather: Part 2” into stardom, with “Taxi Driver,” fame and Oscar glory.

Garfield and Charles Durning, playing the building super in a slum in the film’s opening recreation of a TV public service announcement, would go on to become two of the most recognizable character actors of their era.

And “experimental” cinema would recede into the same, out-of-the-public-eye niche that porn was destined to inhabit as Hollywood flirted with ’70s auteurs, blockbusters and mainstream cinema that pushed the boundaries of what was allowed or understood on screen far beyond what “Hi, Mom!” poked at.

Viewed today, this primitive, fitfully amusing “radical” comedy is most appreciated for the history lesson it provides, reminding us of how seedy New York was in its last truly gritty decade, and of how hard it used to be to get any movie made in that pre-film schools proliferation, pre cheap cell phone camera and streaming distribution era.

Rating: R, nudity, violence

Cast: Robert DeNiro, Jennifer Salt, Lara Parker, Carole Leverett, Bubby Butler, Carolyn Craven, Gerrit Graham, Charles Durning and Allen Garfield.

Credits: Directed by Brian DePalma, scripted by Brian DePalma and Charles Hirsch. A Sigma III release streaming on Tubi, Amazon, etc.

Running time: 1:27

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Why Netflix is eating Amazon’s Lunch on Streaming

Netflix has 280 million subscribers, worldwide. People who pay for Netflix are paying for unlimited access to thousands of movies and series they watch.

Amazon Prime, the online retail giant’s answer to Netflix, has 200 million “members” worldwide, but only some of them use the video streaming Amazon platform as a part of that. We use it for goods from a wide variety of vendors, shipped free to the house.

Both produce series and original movies. But there’s a pretty big gap in video usage, and there are infuriatingly obvious reasons for this.

Netflix has their streaming tech down. You can watch Netflix movies or series etc. on your phone or a laptop at the airport, at home, at a fast food joint or waiting for your concert or sporting event to start. It’s a simple, smooth, rarely-buffered viewing experience.

Amazon? It works at home. Sometimes. Often. Depending on your wifi speed. I experience hangups — buffering crashes — that often seem tied to the “limited ads” they try to tailor (Hah!) to my “profile” with Amazon. Go to smaller devices or leave home and it can be even clunkier.

Amazon has its hit series, and every now and then, one becomes a phenomenon (“The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel,” “The Boys,” “Clarkson’s Farm”). Their hits-to-misses track record seems on a par with Netflix’s (which produces far more series) but not with say Hulu or Apple TV, which focus heavily on series, don’t produce a lot of them, and have a better batting average in the hits-to-misses dept.

Then there’s the movie selection. Jeff Bezos and Amazon via Amazon/MGM are blowing money on the occasional film — “Red One,” “Air,” “The Big Sick,” “Manchester by the Sea,” etc. But new “originals” aren’t a weekly offering or feature of Amazon. And their acquisitions dept. doesn’t have the budget Netflix throws at even money-losers like short films.

Amazon buys a lot of bottom-shelf “entertainment,” self-financed or cheaply-made movies from assorted indie operators. If I want to review something “new” on Amazon, I am almost always disappointed in the quality. Well-intentioned piffle like “Chicken Coop” or “The Crossroads” or one I just got through, “The Window,” dominates their New on Prime” menu.

They get around this “We don’t have much, and much of it is s–t” shortcoming by mixing up menus, showing off a wide selection of “new releases” that are rentals because they’re still in theaters or just dropped off big screens, and an even wider selection of content they don’t advertise as “available for rent” by which should be more clearly marked as such.

There are other deceptions Team Bezos trots out. I started to watch “The River King,” a FilmRise title pitched by Amazon Prime as a “2024” release. It has some names in the cast — Edward Burns and Jennifer Ehle.

But I watch a few minutes of it, speculate on how much plastic surgery “work” Burns and Ehle might have had done, only to check and see that the damned movie was made in 2005. It’s “new to Amazon” content that Amazon labeled as “2024” “new.”

I think, well maybe they made a deal with Lionsgate’s limited-release/direct-to-video division. I posted the trailers to “The Thicket,” a bounty-hunter Western starring Peter Dinklage, and “Armor,” a Stallone quick-and-dirty heist picture “released” this year. Amazon has them. But it’s not until you click on the title that you see it’s only for sale or “rent.”

Kids, if nobody and I mean NOBODY bought a ticket to see these films, and legions of smaller distributors’ titles, in theaters, how do you figure it’s worth $6.99 now? It isn’t and they aren’t.

Amazon Prime’s slim pickings are most pronounced, to me, over the holidays at the end of the year, when new titles in theaters have all premiered, I run out of reviewable titles among the limited releases during the year and Amazon is where I go to catch up.

On and on you scroll — or I do — looking for something Amazon Prime has that make Prime a viable alternative to Netflix. Some classic titles, sure. Not all. And many of those are “for rent” or purchase.

The latest releases for rent just as they’re leaving theaters is an understandable “upselling.” I’d expect to pay near cinema prices for “Gladiator II” or “Wicked.”

But as a “Let’s watch a movie as part of our ‘Prime’ membership” experience, Prime just sucks.

Netflix finances film production directly or via purchasing of screen rights all over the world. And there are plenty of examples of money wasted on these films from North America, Europe, South America, Africa, the Middle East or Asia. But by and large, there’s professional content on offer, even from countries whose film industries aren’t well known or necessarily well-regarded in the West.

Hulu and Apple don’t pitch themselves as true Netflix alternatives. You expect fewer series and very few films from them, or Disney+ or Max or whoever.

Amazon Prime Video, a Netflix-competitor hyped and offered-up by the most valuable retail corporation on Earth, is a joke.

It’s no wonder they don’t publicize usage rates, etc. I review a title on Amazon, even a conceivably popular one that is getting a lot of viewers, and the review only generates a small fraction of what your average review of a Netflix title — even a Polish thriller or Italian comedy — rounds up.

I don’t have access to Amazon’s balance sheets, and their business plan may have wrinkles in it that are beyond the conventional streaming model. But what seems obvious as of now is that they’re blowing money on “Red One” that could very easily have been broken up and paid for scores of Lionsgate, A24, Neon, etc. releases and produced a steady stream of actual “offerings” that make Prime membership a home video boon.

There’s just not enough worth watching on Prime. And making your glitchy, data-mining/data-hungry video streaming platform just an excuse for upselling users to more expensive content is just another way greed gets in the way of providing true “fair value.”

And whoever is running your “anything and anyone who got a movie made” acquisitions needs to go back to Film Appreciation class. Is it a bot that’s making these bottom-dollar buys?

The amount of Daddy’s money-financed indulgences, with a script so weak the filmmakers weren’t able to attract a single “name” to act in it, cluttering your platform shows contempt for subscribers and a penny-pinching greed that makes one inclined to cling to that Costco membership for anything one wants shipped, and to tell Bezos bye-bye. Because Amazon Prime isn’t “prime” anything.

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Movie Review: A Woman is enslaved by a “Blood Money” debt in Pakistan — “The Window”

“The Window” is a brutal and pitiless Pakistani melodrama about primitive practices (mostly) in the provinces, the tradition of marrying women off to pay “blood money” debts.

It’s harsh and judgemental enough to be an Indian anti-Pakistani/anti-Muslim propoganda film, but the slow-to-die practices depicted here — chiefly treating women as property, property men can abuse as they see fit — is seen all over the Subcontinent.

We meet Mina (Suhaee Abro) on her wedding day, which is anything but a happy occasion. Her father (Hameed Sheikh) has sold her in marriage to a family whose youngest son died at the hands of his son, Babar (Sami Khan). The village elders will excuse that killing with this “blood money” debt.

And Farhad (Faran Tahir), the groom and monstrous older brother of the dead man, is determined to get his full, bloody value out of this blood money.

Mina is subjected to beatings and gang rapes, clocked in a single-window cell in their property on the edge of their village. As her own father has ordained “Do not bring her up again in this house” (in English and Urdu with English subtitles) to her mother, his wife, Mina’s doom seems sealed.

“You are to spend the rest of your days in this room,” Farhad spits (literally) at her. Even his sister, Deeba (Rubya Chaudhry) has limits to the pity she shows their prisoner, who is soon chained for having the temerity to try and flee this fate.

Co-writer/directors Ammar Lasani and Kanza Zia use flashbacks to tell us how it all came to this, the ill-fated lovers who tried to flee to Lahore, only to be chased down, setting up the confrontation where someone was going to die — either from “bringing shame to my family” or from trying to carry out the “traditional” rough justice sentence for such a crime.

Other flashbacks double down on the “forbidden love” causes of all this, and underscore just how poorly women are treated in the more primitive corners of this part of the world. Mina joins in on a soccer match, scores a goal, and is promptly pummeled for it by the manly men she scored on.

Mina’s pathetic plight is ham-fistedly underscored by the one creature she can speak to without judgement, “Mr. Ant,” crawling in and out of her cell.

The acting is wildly uneven here, with some players either amatuerish or uncomfortable enough acting in English as to stand apart from the rest. The explain-it-all flashbacks are paired with simplistic fantasy hallucinations, all that Mina has to cling to as her lot doesn’t improve and more and more time passes.

The graphic nature of the violence reinforces how pitiless and hopeless this situation is portrayed. Mina has no agency in any of this. Attempts to free her or remind the village of her plight are hapless and futile.

As decades of outrage, protests and international shaming do little to lessen this savagely repressive treatment, can a movie melodrama change anything? If not, one really does wonder what the point of “The Window” is.

Rating: 18+, rape, graphic violence, smoking, profanity

Cast: Suhaee Abro, Faran Tahir, Rubya Chaudhry, Sami Khan, Hameed Sheikh and Angeline Malik

Credits: Directed by Ammar Lasani and Kanza Zia, scripted by Ammar Lasani, Kanza Zia and Randy Zuniga. An Amazon Prime release.

Running time: 1:22

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Classic Film Review: A Scottish Bay, a Burt and a Baby-Faced Peter Capaldi — “Local Hero” (1983)

Oh to make the pilgrimage to Pennan, flying in to Aberdeen, recreating the journey a “Local Hero” makes in perhaps the quaintest, cutest film of that golden age of excess, the ’80s.

Scottish writer-director Bill Forsyth’s “Gregory’s Girl” announced to the world a great cinema talent with an eye and an ear for “adorable.” But “Local Hero,” a Hollywood studio film (Warner Bros.) with a Hollywood legend (Burt Lancaster) adorning the cast, is where Forsyth best-blended his twee Scots sensibility to a Major Motion Picture.

It’s a classic “fish out of water” comedy, one that flips the conventions of such films, suggesting the predictable, then veering away from it. The ’80s and early ’90s were a golden age for fish out of water comedies, with this film, “The Coca-Cola Kid,” “The Efficiency Expert” and “Crocodile Dundee” among those making their merry way into cinemas around the globe.

Peter Riegert of “Animal House” and later “A Shock to the System” plays a young “acquistitions” closer at Knox Oil & Industries, a Houston concern with an interest in buying “Scotland, or a piece of Scotland” for a North Sea oil storage and shipping terminal.

They’ve settled on tiny Ferness. The aged and eccentric CEO, Mr. Happer (Lancaster), a man working with a shrink who figures humiliating and abusing the born-filthy-rich is a way of “treating” him (Worth a try.), is a bit distracted by to be all-in on this project. But he summons MacIntyre (Riegert), an executive chosen for these “delicate” negotiations because of the surname his Hungarian family took at Ellis Island, and in between getting his name wrong, tells him to “watch the skies” over there.

Happer thinks he’ll make his true mark on the world by getting a comet named for him.

Mac flies over, meets the multi-lingual local Knox company man Oldsen (future Doctor Who Peter Capaldi, barely old enough to shave), sees the scale-model that shows his rapacious company’s plans for buying and destroying Ferness and its bay, and they’re off.

In the grand tradition of city-slicker-goes-rural fish out of water comedies, Mac and Oldsen arrive in the one-phone/one-telephone-box village and never know what hit them.

The hotelier, bartender, taxi driver and only-accountant-in-town Urquhart (Denis Lawson) can barely be bothered to interrupt his lusty attentions to his wife Stella (Jennifer Black) to wait on them. But he, like every other thrifty Scot within earshot, knows exactly why “the Yank” is here.

The only person who doesn’t “know” what Knox Oil has in mind for this town, this beach and this bay is the fetching marine biologist Marina, whose name is so on-the-nose that she simply had to be played by an actress named Jennifer Seagrove.

Oldsen is instantly smitten, and it will take all his professionalism to keep the “secret” to himself. Because the other locals, even the Afro-Scottish priest (Gyearbuor Asante) are already seeing dollar signs, or pound notes, which is one of the points Mac and Gordon Urquhart must haggle over before a price is asked and met.

Meanwhile, the beach that the two gents in three-piece suits keep walking, the cozy pub where the locals gather for sing-alongs and Cèilidh (debates), even the hotel which has no idea what to do with “an electric briefcase” (pre-computer era), but where the three-star chefs (Stella and Gordon) know exactly what to do with an “injured rabbit” Mac brings them (they cook it), start to work on the Yank and his Scots protege.

The clever touches start with the ways Mac’s “bringing the community together to make a collective deal” go wrong for both the Houston hustler and the Ferness finagler Gordon.

One soon-to-be-rich wag is repainting his sailboat and gives it a new name — “The Dollar Bill.”

“Are you sure there are two l’s in ‘dollar’, Gideon?”

“Aye, an’ are there two g’s in ‘bugger off!'”

Writer-director Forsyth sets up characters and love interests that seem destined to derail the deal, and then surprises us when they don’t. He introduces us to the “charms” of the village, while letting us see how “charm” has its limits, and how living in such a place can seem to those stuck there.

The spry-to-the-end Lancaster brings a grand twinkle to the mad Happer, a goof more interested in shooting stars and Northern Lights than in oil.

That reckless motorbiking kid that everybody in the village knows to look out for every time they step out is Ricky, drummer in a local band and played by the “Gregory” of “Gregory’s Girl,” John Gordon Sinclair.

Riegert’s role in all of this is that of the straight man — the reactor — and he handles that with a faintly smarmy ease. He’s enjoyed a long and never-idle career, but his great run was”Animal House” through “Local Hero,” to “Crossing Delancey” and “A Shock to the System,” always great in support, rarely the lead.

Capaldi’s career didn’t truly blow-up until he tore through his profane turn in the wickedly funny political comedy “In the Loop.”

With “Local Hero,” the Oscar-winning legend Lancaster started his career’s home stretch — lots of twinkling old man roles; “Rocket Gibraltar,” “Tough Guys” and “Field of Dreams.”

About the only thing that seems dated in Bill Forsyth’s early films is the juvenile leering and ogling evident in this movie and “Gregory’s Girl,” even hinted at in his male-dominated feature debut, “That Sinking Feeling.” It’s sexist and cringey, seen today.

Our writer-director all but ended his career with “Being Human,” an ambitious and twee Robin Williams misfire that took a lot out of both of them. But he added “Comfort and Joy,” “Housekeeping” and “Breaking In” to a list of movies that suggested producers should have been beating down his door all through the ’90s and beyond.

Scotland had Connery and Lulu and Annie Lennox, The Proclaimers, Billy Connolly, Kelly MacDonald and Craig Ferguson. But nobody in recent years has done “Scotland” better than the guy who put it on the screen at its most adorable, Bill Forsyth.

Rating: PG, innuendo

Cast: Peter Riegert, Peter Capaldi, Denis Lawson, Jenny Seagrove, Jennifer Black, Christopher Rozycki and Burt Lancaster

Credits: Scripted by directed by Bill Forsyth. A Warner Bros. release on Tubi, Youtube, other streaming platforms.

Running time: 1:52

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Netflixable? Polish “Justice” turns Old (Communist) School in this ’90s thriller

“Justice” is a solid if somewhat unsatisfying slow-burn thriller from Poland, a drama set shortly after the country shed Soviet era Russian dominatation.

It’s about a heist that went wrong, the pitiless murders that took place when that happened and the pitiless former totalitarian government investigator brought back to “solve” the crime and deliver “Justice,” old school or otherwise.

Olaf Lubaszenko of Kieslowki’s “A Short Film About Love” stars as Tadeusz Gadacz, an aging outcast from the Communist regime, an ace detective whose “methods” don’t work in a civil rights-treasuring democracy. He’s still got the Mercedes his prior work earned him. But these days, the loner scrapes by making garden gnomes.

A prosecutor (Magdalena Boczarska) from the justice ministry brings him back. She and her boss, the justice minister (Miroslaw Haniszewski) remember the man’s brutish methods. But two weeks of such rough trade might solve a bank robbery that went wrong and got several people — most of them women clerks — killed.

Gadacz is called in so quickly that the crime scene is still active. He can poke around the bodies and note details and get a handle on the awful ways it all went down. He can check behind the cops still on the job and turn up one “person of interest” who turns out to be a body that his replacements have missed.

“I recognize when someone has made a mistake and there’s no time for them to undo it,” he muses (in Polish, or dubbed into English).

With the former protege he still nicknames “Pocket” (Wiktoria Gorodecka) Gadacz will quickly settle on a theory, suspects and a means of pinning the crime on them. Surveillance, interrogation and shoe leather work will be involved.

Here’s what’s not particularly satisfying about this version of “Justice.”

There’s no urgency, and the stakes seem low. Gadacz hardly harbors any hope that he’ll be allowed to return to the force. The “two weeks” he’s allowed to put this case to beg is charted with “Day One” through “Day Twelve” and beyond with intertitles is meaningless and arbitrary, and seems leisurely.

Gadacz and we “know” who did it. Flashbacks and shifts in point of view only confirm that. There’s no cliched “pressure from above” to solve this case. After all, they basically brought him in before the bodies were moved. He’s their first resort, not their last.

Director Michal Gazda and screenwriter Bartosz Staszczyszyn immerse us in a place and a time, reminding us of the ugliness of the communist past and the unjust, unsettling adjustment to “capitalism,” when the country is asked to celebrate a bank merger as something new and patriotic, heedless of the human cost.

But they’ve made a “ticking clock thriller” and ignored the damned clock. They give away the killers, making their movie focus only on the ways a cunning and ruthless detective traps and coerces them to deliver his idea of “justice.” That’s interesting only in the melodramatic hokum implicit in that approach — the corny, old-fashioned and unrealistic attack of “conscience.”

“I’ve got to CONFESS!”

The players are in sharp form, with screen veteran Lubaszenko anchoring the film in world weariness, and Jedrzej Hycnar suggesting sinister grievances and psychoses that justify his “smart” villain’s choices, no matter how ruthless.

And the narrative carries you along, even if it takes its sweet time, even if there’s not a lot of mystery about it as it does.

Rating: TV-MA, graphic violence

Cast: Olaf Lubaszenko, Wiktoria Gorodecka, Jedrzej Hycnar and Magdalena Boczarska

Credits: Directed by Michal Gazda, scripted by
Bartosz Staszczyszyn, A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:55

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