Stranger in a Strange Land: ‘Local Hero’ (1983)

Local Hero is a fish-out-of-water comedy about an American oilman who travels to a tiny Scottish town and tries to do business with the locals. So far, so run-of-the-mill. But look again. Bill Forsyth’s film is also about the price we pay for progress, the emptiness lurking in seemingly full lives and the beauty of learning to stand and stare.

The film begins in Houston, Texas, where ‘Mac’ MacIntyre (Peter Riegert) works as a negotiator for the corporate behemoth that is Knox Oil and Gas. Knox is due for another oil refinery and the company’s board have chosen the perfect location on the west coast of Scotland. True, the spot is currently occupied by the small town of Ferness, but that’s a mild inconvenience: Knox can buy up the place then build to its heart’s content.  MacIntyre is given the task on the grounds that his name is as Scottish as bagpipes. Except he isn’t a Scot: his parents were Hungarian immigrants who changed their name to MacIntyre because they thought it sounded more American. None of his bosses bothered to ask. When Knox’s CEO, Happer (Burt Lancaster), summons Mac to his office it’s to ask him to keep an eye on the stars and report what he sees: Happer is an amateur astronomer.

Mac soon arrives in Aberdeen and is met by Danny Oldsen (a young Peter Capaldi), a very eager, very green underling who claims to speak half a dozen languages (none of them Gaelic) and greets him at the airport with a welcome sign half hidden under his trench coat, like the world’s most conspicuous spy.

Ferness itself might as well be the dark side of the moon. The locals’ names are unpronounceable.  Mac asks the hotelier where he can find a “Mr. Ur-qu-hart” and is told he’ll be at the office next door in 15 minutes. Fifteen minutes later, Mac and Danny arrive and find the same man waiting for them. Gordon Urquhart (Denis Lawson) doesn’t just run the B&B; he’s also an accountant, publican and part-time taxi driver. “We tend to double up on jobs around here,” he explains.

In a more conventional film, the townspeople would rally against Knox. Instead they’re all for the deal. They dream of wealth. After Mac and Danny leave, Gordon bounces gleefully on his chair and sings. The entire town gathers in the church to discuss Knox’s offer—a meeting which quite literally takes place behind Mac’s back. (The vicar is sent out to distract him.) When Gordon asks Mac and Danny to stay in town for a few days, it’s so he can haggle.

Mac can’t wait to leave. He dislikes face to face meetings; he’s more of a Telex man. It’s only when he’s forced to hang around town that we get to the heart of the film. Marooned far from home, Mac stops and takes a look around. To his surprise what he sees is beauty. The beach is pristine, white sand rippling out to a tranquil sea. (Forsyth shot on location on the west coast, mainly at Morar, Arisaig and Pennan.) One night the aurora borealis light up the sky. Mac rushes to Ferness’ only public phone, the red phone box in the harbour, calls Happer and struggles to describe the lights overhead. This is beauty the locals take for granted; beauty that will soon be lost.

Forsyth, who also wrote the script, lets Mac and Danny take their time, learning to see the world anew. Danny is smitten with Marina (Jenny Seagrove), an enigmatic marine biologist working on the beach, and courts her in his own fumbling way. Mac goes beachcombing, takes his watch off and doesn’t notice when it drowns in a rock pool. He also measures his life against Gordon’s and finds it wanting. Gordon is rich in ways Mac isn’t. They both know this. But material possessions are nice all the same.

Which leads Mac to the dispiriting truth: for Knox and the townspeople to prosper, Arcadia must fall. Victor (Christopher Rozycki), a visiting Soviet fisherman, reminds him that he’s made everyone happy. “It’s their place. They have a right to make what they can of it,” he says. “You can’t eat scenery.” Yet Mac longs for another way and so do we.

The performances are excellent. Local Hero was Peter Capaldi’s first film and he gives Danny an endearing awkwardness, topped off with a side-splitting run. (Interestingly, the latter seems intrinsic to Capaldi himself. Three decades later, Doctor Who companion Bill Potts will ask Capaldi’s Twelfth Doctor why he runs “like a penguin with its arse on fire”.) Denis Lawson plays Gordon bone dry, never telegraphing a laugh and Peter Riegert is the film’s understated centre: mordant and ultimately melancholy. Burt Lancaster cheerfully commits grand larceny in his scenes as Happer, an eccentric with an innovative method of keeping his ego in check. Roman generals afforded a triumph would parade through the streets in a chariot while a slave allegedly stood behind them and whispered: “Remember you are only a man.” Happer employs a psychiatrist to come in once or twice a week and insult him.

Local Hero begins as a culture clash comedy and slowly reveals itself to be much more. It is gentle but sharp, quirky but not condescending, clear-eyed enough to recognise its characters’ foibles, yet wise and generous enough to laugh at them too. It is also a defence of all that is wondrous and unspoiled. For in this life so full of care, we must find time to stand and stare.