#pennan

One of Scotland's' most iconic films, Local Hero was released on February 18th 1983.

In the days before mobile phones we used to use things called phone boxes when we were not at home, and the phone box  in Local Hero has become as iconic as the film itself. 

There aren’t many films that have a 100%  Tomatometer , on the movie website Rotten Tomatoes, backed up by an impressive 87% audience score, it should be all you need to know when choosing a movie to watch, expecially if you haven’t seen it before. IMDb also rate it highly with 7.4 out of 10.

Bill Forsyth’s oil-refinery comedy isn’t billed as a weepy. It is, however, a love poem to Scotland, and that’s what brings the lump to my throat.

Quirky, wry, gentle are words most often used for this comedy on the movie database site, IMDb, the starting point for many of my posts about those Scots in the acting profession in my posts. They brief story line on the site does not hint at the emotional turbulence you might soon be experiencing. So maybe it’s just me being a big sissy. Wouldn’t be the first time I lost the plot. All it says is "An American oil company sends a man to Scotland to buy up an entire village where they want to build a refinery. But things don't go as expected." The film is so much more than this and it stands the test of time much better than other Forsyth films like Comfort & Joy and Gregory's Girl, well in my opinion anyway!

Crackpot Texan oil magnate Felix Happer (Burt Lancaster) gets the idea that a small Scottish fishing village would be a marvellous acquisition for his so-rich-it-makes-you-sick company, Knox Oil and Gas, so he sends an executive gopher named MacIntyre (because that sounds Scottish, yeah – played by Peter Riegert) to close the deal and get the pipeline pencilled in.

“Mac” is met by some local “dork” called Oldsen (a young Peter Capaldi), who attempts to steer him through a tartan microculture that includes a lawyer-cum-publican/hotelier (Denis Lawson) who tapdances while standing on a chair shouting “Stella” – the name of his ever-randy wife; there is a super-hard marine biologist played by Jenny Seagrove who, after delivering a short lecture on the North Atlantic drift, ends up helping Oldsen to find that pistol in his pocket; and then there is a scene in which a very whisky-sodden Mac calls Texas from a red phone box on the harbourside, a phone box that has featured in so many peoples snaps when visiting Pennan in Banffshire.

Other bits of business in the film involve a salty Russian seafarer and overflying warplanes. You can see how it got the comedy tag, and I haven’t even mentioned the thing with the rabbit. And you can see how Mac ends up smitten.

This is all top material from a very talented writer/director, with photography and music from Glasgow born Mark Knopfler matches the acting and direction perfectly. But on first viewing I found myself asking halfway through, “What is this film actually about?” After not very much thought, I came to the conclusion that it was not a How Things Never Go According to Plan story, but a love poem to Scotland and the Scots. A bit slushy, but never mind. It’s only a film.

The scene when Mac phones to describe the Northern Lights, to me is very special, but the scene that prompted the lump in my throat at the end of the movie is when, having failed in his mission to secure the Knox refinery deal and mutilate one of Planet Earth’s most beautiful locations, Mac returns to his frigid steel-and-glass Houston apartment. He stands at his kitchen counter wondering what to do next, the hushed march of oil capitalism buzzing gently outside. He pulls from his coat pocket a handful of pebbles and shells, smelling one of them poignantly remembering as he spreads them on the work surface.

Illuminated picture ledge Acrylics on plywood by Cornelius Brombach, 2020

The 4 scences can be taken out and swaped over or changed to new motives in the future. An LED strip illuminates the scene from the back.

The groove, in which the wooden scene is stuck, and the deeping for the led strip was done with my router tool.

The 4 scenes are taken from Scotland:

One of Scotland's' most iconic films, Local Hero was released on February 18th 1983.

Bill Forsyth’s oil-refinery comedy isn’t billed as a weepy. It is, however, a love poem to Scotland, and that’s what brings the lump to my throat.

Quirky, wry, gentle are words most often used for this comedy on the movie database site, IMDb, the starting point for many of my posts about those Scots in the acting profession in my posts. They brief story line on the site does not hint at the emotional turbulence you might soon be experiencing. So maybe it’s just me being a big sissy. Wouldn’t be the first time I lost the plot. All it says is "An American oil company sends a man to Scotland to buy up an entire village where they want to build a refinery. But things don't go as expected." The film is so much more than this and it stands the test of time much better than other Forsyth films like Comfort & Joy and Gregory's Girl, well in my opinion anyway!

Crackpot Texan oil magnate Felix Happer (Burt Lancaster) gets the idea that a small Scottish fishing village would be a marvellous acquisition for his so-rich-it-makes-you-sick company, Knox Oil and Gas, so he sends an executive gopher named MacIntyre (because that sounds Scottish, yeah – played by Peter Riegert) to close the deal and get the pipeline pencilled in.

“Mac” is met by some local dork called Oldsen (a young Peter Capaldi), who attempts to steer him through a tartan microculture that includes a lawyer-cum-publican/hotelier (Denis Lawson) who tapdances while standing on a chair shouting “Stella” – the name of his ever-randy wife; there is a super-hard marine biologist played by Jenny Seagrove who, after delivering a short lecture on the North Atlantic drift, ends up helping Oldsen to find that pistol in his pocket; and then there is a scene in which a very whisky-sodden Mac calls Texas from a red phone box on the harbourside, a phone box that has featured in so many peoples snaps when visiting Pennan in Banffshire.

Other bits of business in the film involve a salty Russian seafarer and overflying warplanes. You can see how it got the comedy tag, and I haven’t even mentioned the thing with the rabbit. And you can see how Mac ends up smitten.

This is all top material from a very talented writer/director, with photography and music from Glasgow born Mark Knopfler matches the acting and direction perfectly. But on first viewing I found myself asking halfway through, “What is this film actually about?” After not very much thought, I came to the conclusion that it was not a How Things Never Go According to Plan story, but a love poem to Scotland and the Scots. A bit slushy, but never mind. It’s only a film.

The scene when Mac phones to describe the Northern Lights, to me is very special, but the scene that prompted the lump in my throat at the end of the movie is when, having failed in his mission to secure the Knox refinery deal and mutilate one of Planet Earth’s most beautiful locations, Mac returns to his frigid steel-and-glass Houston apartment. He stands at his kitchen counter wondering what to do next, the hushed march of oil capitalism buzzing gently outside. He pulls from his coat pocket a handful of pebbles and shells, smelling one of them poignantly remembering as he spreads them on the work surface.

As Knopflers music gently plays he goes to his balcony and looks out to the city......the scene fades to black, then reopens 4,500 miles away, where, on the harbour side of a small Scottish fishing village, we see the phone box, perhaps ringing and the credits begin as the horns of Going Home blast out.

Pennan e Crovie, tra i villaggi di pescatori più suggestivi di Scozia