“Rebel Ridge” begins as Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre) is riding his bicycle on a deserted stretch of Louisiana highway, intently listening to Iron Maiden’s “The Number of the Beast.”

With music blocking the sound of a police car behind him, Terry is rear-ended and is left sprawled on the concrete. Determined to search the backpack that Terry is wearing, the cop summons backup. 

Politely explaining that he’s on his way to nearby Shelby Springs, toting $36,000 to post bail for his incarcerated cousin and then to buy a truck, Terry is persistently harassed and his cash confiscated under suspicion of a drug connection. 

That’s illegal. Terry knows it but the cops (David Danman, Emory Cohen) don’t care. After all, he’s a Black man and they’re obviously accustomed not only to racial profiling but also to acting with impunity in this backwoods town.

Quietly simmering with anger, Terry tries to defuse the conflict with diplomatic Southern civility, verbally sparring with bullying Police Chief Burnne (Don Johnson), only to discover widespread corruption throughout the precinct.

(Meanwhile, a police search on Wikipedia  reveals that Terry’s not only an ex-Marine but that he ran the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program, meaning he’s a self-defense expert.)

Determined to file the paperwork necessary to free his cousin from jail before he’s transferred to a state prison where his life is endangered, Terry is befriended by Summer McBride (AnnaSophia Robb)

Summer works for the county clerk; she was previously cowed by the town’s power players and is desperately trying to regain custody of her child.  She understands all about police entitlement and ‘asset forfeiture,’ which makes her increasingly vulnerable to the avarice-prone men around her.

Writer/director Jeremy Saulnier (“Green Room”) keeps the tension taut, basing the title of the film on the field where the final confrontation occurs. Problem is: the ‘survivalist’ protagonist and action/thriller plot are all too familiar, harking back to Tom Laughlin’s “Billy Jack” (1971) and Ted Kotcheff’s “First Blood” (1982), which introduced the world to Sylvester Stallone’s John Rambo.

On the Granger Gauge of 1 to 10, “Rebel Ridge” is a slow-burning yet satisfying 6, streaming on Netflix.

Taking full advantage of her ‘nepo baby’ status, Zoë Kravitz – daughter of singer/songwriter/music producer Lenny Kravitz and actress Lisa Bonet – makes her directing debut with “Blink Twice,” delving into sexploitation/horror.

Her story begins as fun-loving Frida (Naomi Ackie) and her roommate Jess (Alia Shawkat) leave their dingy digs to report to work as ‘invisible’ cater/waiters, serving champagne and canapes at a posh party hosted by billionaire Slater King (Channing Tatum), a discredited tech mogul.

Later, after slipping into slinky gowns, they manage to ‘crash’ the party, eager to be accepted by the rich-and-famous crowd. Sure enough, they wangle an invitation to board seductive Slater’s private jet for a vacation on his secluded tropical island. 

Upon arrival, they’re forced to surrender their iPhones to Slater’s aloof personal assistant/sister, Stacy (Geena Davis), before being escorted to their comfy quarters, replete with an exotic perfume, identical white bikinis and fetching resort garb. 

Giggling with delight, Frida and Jess join the other guys (Christian Slater, Hayley Joel Osment, Simon Rex, Levon Hawke) and gals (Adria Arjona, Liz Caribel, Trew Mullett), frolicking around the pool.

Drinking and designer drugs are their primary amusements, and their excessive indulgence induces some kind of psychedelic stupor. Eagerly swept up in the bacchanalia, they lose track of what time and what day it is. 

Jess is the first to realize that something’s wrong, although she can’t figure out what. And when she goes missing, no one, except Frida, can remember she was even there.

(If this seems more than a bit reminiscent of Jeffrey Epstein’s ‘Pedophile Island” in the Caribbean, it’s obviously no coincidence. Only Frida and Jess aren’t underage; they’re adults who willingly consent to constant partying.)

Scripted by Kravitz and E.T. Feigenbaum, sexual politics is the name of the sinister game as Frida wreaks feminist #MeToo revenge. The original title was “Pussy Island,” but that was, understandably, rejected for marketing reasons.

Problem is: Neither Kravitz’s concept nor her characters are ever fully developed, so the satirical cynicism and graphic brutality seems inexplicably gratuitous. And the ominous presence of Slater’s therapist Rich (Kyle MacLachlan) is never explained.

On the Granger Gauge, “Blink Twice” is a pretentious 3, streaming on Prime Video.