Writer/director Ned Benson’s beguiling little charmer expands upon a premise that’ll feel familiar to everybody: the power of a beloved song to take us back in time to where we were, and who with, the first time it was heard.

After a couple of chance encounters, sparks fly when Harriet (Lucy Boynton) and David (Justin H. Min) playfully argue over who gets to purchase a rare, one-of-a-kind LP in her favorite music store.

This isn’t a happy ability. 

As revealed when this story begins — after Harriet, alone in her apartment, cues up The The’s aptly titled “This Is the Day,” on her fancy turntable — that tune was playing when she and Max were involved in a car accident. He died; she wound up in a coma for a week.

Upon wakening, she discovered — to her horror — that every tune she and Max ever heard, during their four years together, yanks her back to that particular moment of their relationship. Her past self’s awareness of this doesn’t help; we realize, from Harriet’s forlorn bearing, that she has tried many, many times to prevent the accident. And failed.

Two years have passed, during which Harriet has — as a means of self-preservation — cocooned herself into an isolated life. She has forsaken a once-budding career in music production, to work in the silence of a library. When not there, or at home, she wears noise-canceling headphones, in order to prevent accidentally overhearing a “trigger” song; if that happens, her present-day self goes into an unconscious trance ... which, obviously, could be dangerous.

Over time, she has catalogued scores of trigger songs that allow her, in the privacy of her apartment, to re-live happier moments with Max. But this is unhealthy, as it prevents her from processing grief; indeed, such sessions simply fuel her misery. Her only companion is the devoted little dog she “inherited” after the accident.

She always sits in an antique armchair, facing her system speakers, in a pose that cinematographer Chung-hoon Chung cheekily lifts from Maxell’s iconic 1980s “Blown-Away Guy” ads for audiocassettes. (I have to wonder how many of this film’s viewers will recognize the reference.)

Jamie XX’s “Loud Places” sends her back to the music festival when she and Max first met. Yellow Days’ “Gap in the Clouds” finds them during a romantic moment on an isolated beach. And so forth. (Benson’s film is wall-to-wall music; every song is carefully selected to add impact or irony to a given scene.)

It’s like a drug, and Harriet is hooked: “It’s so easy to be pulled back into the past.”

Best friend Morris (Austin Crute), who works as a DJ for hire, doesn’t believe that Harriet actually travels back in time, but he understands that she’s “stuck.” He worries about her — has worried, for a long time — and Crute persuasively plays this role with a gentle, amiable blend of sympathy and snark.

Harriet attends grief-counseling meetings headed by the kind and patient Dr. Bartlett (actress/stand-up comic Retta), who also worries about this young woman who never talks about herself, during the group sessions.

Right about the time we wonder where Benson is taking us, Harriet “meets cute” with David (Justin H. Min), who — by coincidence — also has trouble channeling grief. He misses his parents, and refuses to sell the antique store/upstairs home that they ran, and their family lived in, for his entire life. His sister Edie (Andie Ju) has tolerated this, but her patience is wearing thin.

Harriet and David flirt their way through early encounters. Boynton and Min share sweet chemistry, and Benson takes a patient, old-school approach to their budding relationship ... if, indeed, that’s what it is. David can’t figure her out (no surprise!), and Harriet is torn; as she guiltily admits to Morris, she feels like she’s “cheating” on Max.

And, so ...what will happen next?

Benson takes his time with all this, and his story’s success depends upon each viewer’s willingness to accept the far-fetched premise. He gets considerable help from Boynton, who was so captivating in 2016’s “Sing Street” and has delivered memorable supporting roles in scores of films since then, including 2017’s “Murder on the Orient Express” and last year’s “Barbie.”

Boynton is blessed with a warm, radiant smile; she also persuasively depicts Harriet’s grinding grief. During the rare moments when she’s genuinely happy, she blossoms like a flower ... but closes up just as quickly.

Min is aw-shucks likable as a nice guy who isn’t quite sure what he’s letting himself in for; David knows that Harriet is a “red flag,” but he can’t deny the attraction. Corenswet makes the hunky Max so damn personable, sincere and romantic that we easily understand Harriet’s desire to keep “visiting” him.

Benson and Chung make ample use of the story’s setting in numerous portions of the Los Angeles music scene. A rooftop “silent rave” is a particularly charming tableau.

Although Benson appears to have written himself into a corner, as we near the story’s conclusion, savvy viewers will anticipate a nod toward 2004’s The Butterfly Effect. Even so, the outcome may leave some unsatisfied.

In this case, the journey is superior to its destination.

This one has it all:

Taut suspense; superb direction and pacing; well-crafted characters played by a terrific cast; dry, mordant humor; and a jaw-dropping, war-era assignment that unfolds like Mission: Impossible without the gadgets, and is based on actual events related within Prime Minister Winston Churchill’s declassified memoirs, as detailed in Damien Lewis’ 2014 nonfiction book, Churchill’s Secret Warriors: The Explosive True Story of the Special Forces Desperadoes of WWII.

Gus March-Phillips (Henry Cavill, center) believes that he and his lads — clockwise from left, Geoffrey Appleyard (Alex Pettyfer), Anders Lassen (Alan Ritchson), Henry Hayes (Hero Fiennes Tiffin) and Freddy Alvarez (Henry Golding) — can seriously compromise Nazi U-boat activities.

But enough truth remains to make this one of the most audacious covert operations ever to emerge from World War II.

England is in dire straits as this story begins, with London enduring nightly Nazi bombing raids, and American forces unable to cross the Atlantic due to the persistent threat of German U-boats (that latter detail stretching the truth a bit). Determined to break this impasse, Churchill (Rory Kinnear) authorizes an off-books assault — dubbed Operation Postmaster —  proposed by Special Operations Executive Brigadier Colin Gubbins (Cary Elwes) and his personal assistant, Lt. Commander Ian Fleming (Freddie Fox).

(Yes, that Ian Fleming. He had quite the colorful career during the war.)

The details are to remain a secret between Churchill, Gubbins and Fleming: withheld, in particular, from War Office senior officers who favor trying to cut a deal with Hitler (!).

The plan: a clandestine black-ops mission — in other words, “ungentlemanly,” by the norms at that time — involving a small group of carefully selected mercenaries, tasked with destroying a crucial U-boat supply ship berthed in a neutral Spanish port on the volcanic island of Fernando Po.

Gubbins’ choice to head the mission: Major Gus March-Phillips (Henry Cavill), currently a guest of Her Majesty’s prison system.

(Well, naturally.)

What follows is a thrilling blend of The Dirty Dozen, The Magnificent Seven and, yes, the aforementioned Mission: Impossible. Once released and apprised of the assignment — when he isn’t cadging fine spirits, cigars and Fleming’s lighter (a cute bit) — March-Phillips assembles his team, each of whom would walk through fire on his behalf:

• Henry Hayes (Hero Fiennes Tiffin), an Irish navigations expert;

• Freddy “The Frogman” Alvarez (Henry Golding), a demolitions pro fully at home underwater; and

• Anders Lassen (Alan Ritchson, recognized from Amazon Prime’s “Reacher” TV series), an unstoppable killing machine, equally adept with knives and his beloved long-range bow and arrows, who has a charming habit of collecting the hearts of his Nazi victims.

Their first job: to rescue master planner Geoffrey Appleyard (Alex Pettyfer), March-Phillips’ right-hand man, currently a prisoner at an isolated Nazi encampment in the Canary Islands.

By this point, however, we’ve already seen — during a flash-forward prologue — how March-Phillips and the others deal with a Nazi naval contingent that stops their ocean-bound trawler.

March-Phillips further liaises with the gentlemanly Heron (Babs Olusanmokun), who wields influence and is highly respected in the colony at Fernando Po; and femme fatale Marjorie Stewart (Eiza González), who has ... well ... all manner of helpful talents.

Life at Fernando Po evokes the prickly dynamic at the heart of 1942’s Casablanca, with — in this case — German, Italian and Spanish forces co-existing uneasily. Spanish commander Capt. Binea (Henrique Zaga), aggrieved by how the Nazis are running roughshod over his beloved port, is mollified only when Heron periodically hands him a glass of “the good stuff” at the bar he runs.

Heron also arranges for further assistance from cigar-chomping local mercenary Kambili Kalu (Danny Sapani), the sort of good ol’ chap who’d just as soon cut a throat as smile.

Oh, and the über-villain of the piece: Nazi commandant Heinrich Luhr (Til Schweiger), “much worse than your average Nazi,” Heron warns Stewart.

All of these characters are played with the broadest strokes possible, but that simply magnifies the fun. The rapidly moving plot divides into self-contained assignments, either planned or the result of hiccups along the way (and quite a few of those impede things).

Cavill’s refined March-Phillips is veddy proper — in Gubbins and Fleming’s presence — but unruffled and calmly ruthless in the field, even when things go wrong. Olusanmokun’s Heron is disarmingly polite and gentile, while masks his abilities as a seasoned saboteur.

Ritchson is a force of nature. Lassen is unapologetically gleeful while methodically embracing and inflicting gory violence; his behavior is darkly hilarious, particularly when he mows down rows of adversaries with his trusty bow, yanking bloody arrows from each victim, in order to use them again.

Schweiger is the pluperfect Big Bad: a smiling sociopath who undoubtedly pulled the wings off flies as a lad, and now likely pulls the limbs off interrogation victims.

González makes Stewart voluptuous and just tart-tongued enough to intrigue and set the average man’s mind at ease ... more fool they. She also looks fantastic in the breathtaking gowns into which she’s poured by costume designer Loulou Bontemps.

(The actual Marjorie Stewart, best known as a 1950s film actress, married Gus March-Phillips shortly after the events of Operation Postmaster. There’s no indication that she had anything to do with that mission ... but who really knows?)

Composer Christopher Benstead supplies a militaristic, drum-beat score that ratchets up the intensity and excitement.

In all respects, this is a lot of fun (if quite violent). It deserves to do well. 

Movies about reporters have been a cinema staple ever since talkies emerged.

Early classics leaned toward comedy, most famously with 1931’s The Front Page and 1940’s His Girl Friday (actually a gender-switched remake of the former). Following World War II, the genre focused more on social issues, with notable examples that included 1947’s Gentleman’s Agreement, 1948’s Call Northside 777 and 1951’s Ace in the Hole.

Prince Andrew (Rufus Sewell), naively believing that his "royal bearing" will win the day, hasn't the faintest notion how his oblivious behavior will come across on camera, when interviewed by BBC journalist Emily Maitlis (Gillian Anderson)

Recent classics similarly ripped from actual events include 1999’s The Insider, 2005’s Good Night, and Good Luck, and 2015’s Spotlight. They remind us of the crucially important role played by the Fourth Estate in a democracy, at a time when honest journalism — in print or on television — is in a death spiral, and an increasing number of corrupt individuals exclude truth-tellers and speak solely to “friendly” reporters.

Bloggers don’t break stories or create news; they merely repeat it.

All of which brings us to Scoop, adapted from a chapter in Samantha McAlister’s 2022 memoir about her most (in)famous journalistic “gets”: in this case, the events that led to the 2019 BBC television interview that brought down Prince Andrew.

As was the case with All the President’s Men — which captivated naysayers who initially scoffed at the notion of investigative journalism being interesting — director Philip Martin’s well-paced handling of these events is fascinating. He gets a significant boost from the sharp script by Geoff Bussetil and Peter Moffat — the latter a veteran of crime-oriented British TV shows such as Criminal Justice and Silk — and a terrific cast.

The story begins in 2010, with a suspenseful prologue that finds tabloid photographer Jae Donnelly (Connor Swindells, excellent in this brief role) finally getting the photo — on December 5 — that showed Prince Andrew strolling amicably through New York’s Central Park with his good friend Jeffery Epstein.

That picture would haunt Prince Andrew for almost a decade, as he tried to distance himself from the slowly widening sex scandal that embroiled Epstein and his equally complicit partner, Ghislaine Maxwell.

Martin and his writers then move events to 2019, as staff members of the BBC current events program Newsnight listen with dread when massive layoffs are announced. Emotions are high, prompting an uncomfortable exchange between “booker” Sam McAlister (Billie Piper), producer Esme Wren (Romola Garai) and on-air interviewer Emily Maitlis (Gillian Anderson).

Sam is by far this story’s central and most interesting character: no surprise, since the actual McAlister took an active role during production. She’s the single mother of an adolescent son, Lucas (Zach Colton), whom she adores — the feeling is mutual — but who too frequently gets left in the care of her kind and wholly understanding mother, Netta (Amanda Redman).

Although intuitive, ferociously intelligent and trained as a lawyer, Sam hasn’t abandoned the attitude and “look” that signal her working-class origins. She’s a true fish out of water in a newsroom filled with mostly male colleagues from upper-class backgrounds: a distinction that vexes Sam, but certainly doesn’t deter her. Piper plays her as a resolute force of nature: blessed with curiosity, sharp instincts and the savvy to exploit them, and a down-to-earth warmth that encourages trust from potential interviewees who’d be turned off by her stuffy colleagues.

Her job, bluntly, is to “get bums on seats”: to sweet-talk targets into interviews that they should recognize are ill-advised ... but, ego being what it is, feel they can control. She’s very good at it, which prompts no small amount of jealousy from those same colleagues.

The merde hits the fan when Sam gets a tip that Epstein is about to be arrested by the FBI — again — on sex-trafficking charges, when his plane lands in New Jersey. Knowing that this will place a renewed spotlight on Prince Andrew (an almost unrecognized Rufus Sewell), she reaches out to his private secretary, Amanda Thirsk (Keeley Hawes). It’s a crucial first meeting, with Sam turning on the us-girls-gotta-stick-together charm.

Hawes deserves an award for the subtle nuances of her performance. Thirsk is responsible for protecting Prince Andrew’s public image, which puts her in conflict with Jason Stein (Alex Waldmann), the “spin doctor” recently hired for the same purpose. But he’s a condescending little twat, and Thirsk — having been at the prince’s side for six years — believes that she knows him more intimately, and is a better judge of how he should be “handled.”

Viewers will wonder — eventually, if not immediately — how Thirsk could continue to work alongside a man who had sex with underage girls. (Seriously. By this point, there was no doubt.) The answer is revealed in Hawes’ quietly anguished gaze, when the prince isn’t looking: Thirsk loves him, and truly believes that his role in this scandal has been misunderstood, and if he can just tell his side of it, everything will be all right.

A belief that Sam nurtures, slowly and carefully.

Although no fan of Sam, Maitlis recognizes the importance of what they might accomplish. At first blush, Anderson’s performance seems more caricature than character: Maitlis is a stiff, pompous fashion plate with an overly cultured speaking voice, who is obsessed with her dog (and the pooch’s ubiquitous presence annoys everybody else on staff).

But this is her “celebrity self,” which she unapologetically maintains far too often. When it comes to crunch time, Anderson transforms; Maitlis becomes a consummate professional. Her behavior during the climactic interview is a master class of acting: the subtle little gestures, the carefully lowered gaze — intended to appear disarmingly deferential — and the smoothly quiet persistence with which she circles back to questions left unanswered. Sheer poetry.

Sewell’s performance is equally sublime, and quite damning. His Andrew swans above everybody else, seemingly oblivious to anyone’s humanity beyond his own. He radiates effete, childlike indifference, still referring to the Queen as “Mummy.” He’s totally loathsome, never more so than when he coldly berates a young staff woman for failing to properly arrange the tower of teddy bears always placed on his bed pillows.

On the other hand, exposing Andrews’ bare bum, when he exits a bath at one point, is needlessly, weirdly exploitative: a tawdry misstep in an otherwise refined film.

Martin and his writers also take serious liberties with time. Much of this film’s tension results from the scramble to secure the interview a mere 72 hours after Epstein’s arrest: to catch Prince Andrew off-guard, before Stein and everybody else can circle the wagons. 

Well ... no. In the real world, Epstein was arrested on July 6, 2019, and was found dead in his cell on August 10. Maitlis’ interview with Andrew took place November 14, and was broadcast two days later. Sam and her Newsnightcolleagues therefore had four months to prepare ... but, hey, that’s show business. The three-day timetable definitely is more exciting.

That calculated transgression certainly doesn’t hurt the film, which in all other respects is rigorously faithful — when possible — to actual events. Anderson even made a point of mimicking Maitlis’ posture and movements, during key portions of the interview. The takeaway is the sort of journalistic triumph that reminds us anew of the Fourth Estate’s function as essential advocacy.

The fact that this particular saga was orchestrated entirely by women, also is pretty damn cool.