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Local Hero is a fragment of cinematic whimsy - a genial dramatic comedy that defies both our expectations and those of the characters. Director Bill Forsyth (Gregory's Girl) finds the perfect tone for this not-quite-a-fairy-tale set in a quaint seaside Scottish village named Ferness. By injecting a little (but not too much) magical realism into the mix, Forsyth leavens his pro-environmental message to the point that those not looking for it might not be conscious of its presence.

The film stars Peter Reigert as Mac MacIntyre, a deal closer for Knox Oil who is picked by the corporate head, Felix Happer (Burt Lancaster), to travel to Scotland and buy up an entire fishing village where the company can build a refinery. MacIntyre is chosen because of his name, even though he does not, in fact, have any Scottish ancestry. (He's actually Hungarian; his immigrant ancestors changed their name to MacIntyre because they thought it sounded "American".) And, before he leaves, his boss gives him a secondary duty, which, in some ways, seems more important to Mr. Happer than the primary job: MacIntyre is to keep his eyes on the night sky, watching for new, previously-undiscovered comets. Huppert has decided that the best way to immortalize his name is to get it attached to a celestial body.

Once in Scotland, MacIntyre meets his local liaison, Danny Oldsen (Peter Capaldi), who turns out to be a likable twit. Together, the two make the trip to their destination, where they encounter the colorful locals: their landlord (who also happens to be the town's only accountant), Gordon Urquhart (Denis Lawson); the hermit who owns the beach, Ben Knox (Fulton Mackay); the local priest, Reverend Macpherson (Christopher Asante), who came to Scotland on a mission from Africa and stayed; the appropriately named Marina, a marine biologist with certain mermaid-like characteristics (Jenny Seagrove); and others. It is MacIntyre's job to get everyone to agree to give up their homes in exchange for a cash payment.

At this point, one might reasonably expect Local Hero to turn into a parable about corporate greed displacing people from their homes. MacIntyre, swayed by the sprit of the village, would become their champion. And, while that approach has been the fodder for more than one feel-good, big screen endeavor, it's not the case here. Instead, the villagers are ecstatic to sell. The idea of getting rich, even at the price of giving up their homes, appeals to everyone except one old curmudgeon. That's the reason MacIntyre is welcomed as a hero. Corporate greed is their ally, not their enemy.

But it gets a little more complicated. MacIntyre, who doesn't have much of a life back home in Texas, finds himself becoming seduced by the simplicity and beauty of the Scottish shorelands. In Ferness, people connect - they are not isolated by glass walls. MacIntyre has always done his best work over the phone; now he begins to understand the simple pleasures of face-to-face interaction. He spends the better part of the day collecting seashells and loses his taste for negotiating, essentially giving in to whatever demands the townspeople make. On a distant shore, far from his antiseptic apartment in Houston, he finds that piece of himself that was missing. One of the big questions at the end is whether or not he will settle down with a nice local lass and run a pub, or return to the rat race which has defined his existence to that point. Forsyth's answer, while not necessarily offering the perfect happy ending, is true to the character and makes a telling point for those viewers who see more than a tiny piece of themselves in MacIntyre.

For the most part, Local Hero goes for smiles, not belly laughs. There are exceptions, however, most of which deal with Mr. Happer's interaction with an underling who is offering him an unusual form of therapy. Convinced that his boss has a need to be bullied and insulted, this pseudo-therapist frequently barges into Happer's office and verbally berates him. The intended patient quickly tires of this routine, but the employee is enjoying it so much that he refuses to heed the cease-and-desist order, which leads to a series of increasingly amusing scenes. Credit both Burt Lancaster and Norman Chancer for playing these scenes just broadly enough that they're funny without being idiotic.

The least appealing performance belongs to Peter Reigert. Admittedly, the actor is playing a low-key character, but there are times when his approach is unnecessarily bland. In those instances, instead of empathizing with MacIntyre, we end up watching from a detached perspective. It is precisely this quality, which is evident in all of Reigert's performances, that kept him from developing much of a name. He is, however, boosted by a sterling group of supporting actors. Cantankerous Burt Lancaster is effective cast against type as a man who turns gentle when we expect him to be gruff. In primarily comedic turns, Denis Lawson is delightful as Urquhart and Peter Capaldi plays the perfect fop as Danny. Jenny Seagrove provides a little sex appeal as Marina, the girl whose webbed feet bring her true nature into question.

Forsyth's point, which he makes without resorting to a sermon, is that the lure of the quick buck can cause anyone to lose sight of what really matters. As the villagers celebrate their anticipated wealth without considering the consequences, MacIntyre broods on how little satisfaction he has attained through the pursuit of money and career. Only one local cares about the impact a refinery would have on the environment. While the businessmen see the area as nothing more than a convenient location on a map, he sees it as his home - a place where he has invested much time and effort.

Local Hero is suffused with the kind of almost magical color that typically characterizes comedies set in Scotland, Ireland (Waking Ned Devine), and Wales (The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill But Came Down a Mountain). For films like Local Hero, the setting is often as important a character as any being played by a human being. Indeed, in this film, it isn't the veteran Lancaster or the bewitching Seagrove who steals the most scenes, but the village and its surroundings. This is the best kind of light fare: a motion picture that offers a helping of substance to go along with an otherwise frothy and undemanding main course. 

© 2000 James Berardinelli