MAGNET contributing writer Jud Cost is sharing some of the wealth of classic films he’s been lucky enough to see over the past 40 years. Trolling the backwaters of cinema, he has worked up a list of more than 100 titles—from the ’20s through the ’80s—that you may have missed. A new selection, all currently available on DVD, appears every week.
Restless Natives (1986, 89 minutes)
Scottish filmmakers are particularly adept at making movies about kids, whether youngsters (Ratcatcher), teenagers (Gregory’s Girl, Hallam Foe) or those staggering toward adulthood (Restless Natives).
Two young men straddle a motorcycle leaving Edinburgh at daybreak for a narrow road into the highlands where they sit in wait. As a car approaches, the lanky one raises his hand in front of the vehicle. “This is a holdup,” he says through a foggy helmet visor. “I beg your pardon,” says a young lady in the passenger’s seat. “This is a holdup,” he repeats, raising the visor. “What’s he talking about?” asks the irritated gentleman behind the wheel in a green hound’s-tooth jacket. “Oh, rag week,” says the woman knowingly. “Students, you moron,” she explains to the driver, handing over a 50-pence coin to the kid in the helmet.
“No, no, you don’t understand,” protests the would-be highwayman. “Don’t waste your breath asking for any more. You’re the third this week already,” she replies firmly. “What I want to know, young man,” says the driver, “is are we on the right road to Inverlochy?” Rolling up the window, she says, “Oh drive on. They live in a world of their own today, these kids.”
Back at Hardwick’s Jokes & Tricks, an Edinburgh shop, Will (Vincent Friell), tall and bent forward from the shoulders like a stick-bug, is assessing their aborted robbery. “Don’t you think it’s a bad thing to take other people’s money?” Before the shorter, bespectacled Ronnie (Joe Mullaney) can answer, a kid bursts into the shop. “Listen, I’m in a hurry,” he commands. “Stink bomb, rusty car scratch, nasty sugar and a plastic turd.” He hands over the exact change and leaves before Ronnie can figure out the total.
“Have you been selling that awful sugar to my wee Angus?” demands an irate lady, that afternoon, as she cuffs Ronnie with an oversized plastic bat that squeaks each time she lands a blow. Later that evening, Ronnie asks Will, “What do you want out of life? The point is: We’re smarter than they are.” Will answers, “I think I know where we can get a gun.”
Next morning, the pair motorcycles into the country again. As a guide inside a tourist coach drones on about Bonnie Prince Charlie, the cyclists, one in an oversized, white clown’s mask with orange hair, the other in a scruffy wolfman costume, flag down the bus. They step onboard brandishing weapons: a realistic, plastic pistol and an absurd kids’ blunderbuss. “Please get all your jewelry and cash ready for collection!” demands the wolfman. “OK, smart-ass!” says an overweight American, trying to be a hero. The clown shoots a thick cloud of powder at the man who begins to sneeze uncontrollably. “Bless you,” says the wolfman as the robbers make a clean getaway.
