Local Hero is actually a rather touching film about one man's bedding into a space, a space that should be as alien to him as a towering Wall Street skyscraper would be to an everyday, highlands local, and how the individual comes to be quite fond of it. Of course, these stories demand it be alienating to him early on before he undergoes a procedure, but what struck me most was the execution of the 'getting there'; the manner in which the film's lead gradually becomes more accustomed to his surroundings. The transition is very gentile; it's very relaxed and it isn't a loud and proud journey involving lots of people and incidences that are supposed to deliver on a visual level but not much else.
If Local Hero were to be remade today, producers would probably wedge in an antagonistic force trying to steal the oil that drives the narrative as the protagonist is forced to come to terms with his new surroundings as well as battle the heavily out of favour odds he faces – it may look a bit like Three Kings meshed with Kingdom of Heaven. But instead, we have downplayed comedy and realisation of both predicament and scenario. The lead must negate motorcycles coming close to running him down every time he steps out the front door; he must come to realise that there are not phones on every desk within sight as was in his office and that a telephone box is the only means of communication to the outside world, but he must also realise an alternate way of life – a calmer and more down to earth method of living, in which time is taken to appreciate the finer things and attention is payed to people and things around him. Much like the beautiful, colourful skies above him at certain points, MacIntyre will learn to observe.
The lead is 'Mac' MacIntyre, played by Peter Riegert. He works for a large oil company owned by Burt Lancaster's Felix Happer, a company called Knox Oil and Gas. MacIntyre is sent to Scotland and the village of Ferness from his solid Texas based lifestyle on the basis of purchasing the entire place for sake re-building, re-brandishing and re-inventing; that is to say, the Knox company want to build a refinery there.
Boss Happer may only be in the film for so long, but his presence is vastly important to the overall study of MacIntyre, for it is he that gives MacIntyre a secondary task; that being to watch the skies above where he is travelling to due to the astronomical activity, something that really excites Happer and his love of space, planets and the stars. The skies refrain from their light blue, vapid look and give off all sorts of hidden pieces of beauty as lights, colour and movement is apparent. It is the nucleus of MacIntyre's journey; an observation of things seemingly mundane or everyday and observing the hidden beauty, the 'real' beauty, of said object. It is linked to what I mentioned about MacIntyre coming to love the village and coming to realise his eyes have been opened.
Of course, the moral decision is pushed to a certain breaking point related to MacIntyre's fondness for the village that grows increasingly evident and the fact he's there to practically force them out of house and home, for a price. Along the way, he meets a Scottish Knox representative in Danny Oldsen (Capaldi) and one of the more memorable web-footed female characters in cinematic history, called Marina, played by the aptly named Jenny Seagrove. On a huge plus side, the film does not divulge off into a series of daft scenes driven on British/American banter designed to pry out a few cheap laughs on the audience's behalf. This is one of those 'Americans in Europe' films that requires a certain respect if you're to either 'get' the humour or understand the predicament the lead is in. I think the burning question MacIntyre asks himself at some point is to do with where all these people will end up, and why get rid of something so small and so harmless when everything's fine anyway.
Instead, the locals seem to embrace the change. The film is, in essence, all about modernity – the want to move on and build over 'pre-modern' settlements, be they fields or in this case beaches and a middle-of-nowhere seaside village. As the film does close, it became apparent to me that never before had I seen a film that pays so much attention to both land, sea and sky. It is a strange study of both the development and moving on of the land; the using of the sky as an initial study of looking at what you see everyday and observing something beautiful at the right moment as well as the use of the sea as a different sort of home for the object of MacIntyre's rare gaze, that being Marina. You might say the quaint village makes quite an impression on MacIntyre and to some of us, the film makes an impression just as significant.
If Local Hero were to be remade today, producers would probably wedge in an antagonistic force trying to steal the oil that drives the narrative as the protagonist is forced to come to terms with his new surroundings as well as battle the heavily out of favour odds he faces – it may look a bit like Three Kings meshed with Kingdom of Heaven. But instead, we have downplayed comedy and realisation of both predicament and scenario. The lead must negate motorcycles coming close to running him down every time he steps out the front door; he must come to realise that there are not phones on every desk within sight as was in his office and that a telephone box is the only means of communication to the outside world, but he must also realise an alternate way of life – a calmer and more down to earth method of living, in which time is taken to appreciate the finer things and attention is payed to people and things around him. Much like the beautiful, colourful skies above him at certain points, MacIntyre will learn to observe.
The lead is 'Mac' MacIntyre, played by Peter Riegert. He works for a large oil company owned by Burt Lancaster's Felix Happer, a company called Knox Oil and Gas. MacIntyre is sent to Scotland and the village of Ferness from his solid Texas based lifestyle on the basis of purchasing the entire place for sake re-building, re-brandishing and re-inventing; that is to say, the Knox company want to build a refinery there.
Boss Happer may only be in the film for so long, but his presence is vastly important to the overall study of MacIntyre, for it is he that gives MacIntyre a secondary task; that being to watch the skies above where he is travelling to due to the astronomical activity, something that really excites Happer and his love of space, planets and the stars. The skies refrain from their light blue, vapid look and give off all sorts of hidden pieces of beauty as lights, colour and movement is apparent. It is the nucleus of MacIntyre's journey; an observation of things seemingly mundane or everyday and observing the hidden beauty, the 'real' beauty, of said object. It is linked to what I mentioned about MacIntyre coming to love the village and coming to realise his eyes have been opened.
Of course, the moral decision is pushed to a certain breaking point related to MacIntyre's fondness for the village that grows increasingly evident and the fact he's there to practically force them out of house and home, for a price. Along the way, he meets a Scottish Knox representative in Danny Oldsen (Capaldi) and one of the more memorable web-footed female characters in cinematic history, called Marina, played by the aptly named Jenny Seagrove. On a huge plus side, the film does not divulge off into a series of daft scenes driven on British/American banter designed to pry out a few cheap laughs on the audience's behalf. This is one of those 'Americans in Europe' films that requires a certain respect if you're to either 'get' the humour or understand the predicament the lead is in. I think the burning question MacIntyre asks himself at some point is to do with where all these people will end up, and why get rid of something so small and so harmless when everything's fine anyway.
Instead, the locals seem to embrace the change. The film is, in essence, all about modernity – the want to move on and build over 'pre-modern' settlements, be they fields or in this case beaches and a middle-of-nowhere seaside village. As the film does close, it became apparent to me that never before had I seen a film that pays so much attention to both land, sea and sky. It is a strange study of both the development and moving on of the land; the using of the sky as an initial study of looking at what you see everyday and observing something beautiful at the right moment as well as the use of the sea as a different sort of home for the object of MacIntyre's rare gaze, that being Marina. You might say the quaint village makes quite an impression on MacIntyre and to some of us, the film makes an impression just as significant.