In theaters

RED EYE, directed by Wes Craven, written by Carl Ellsworth, 85 minutes, rated PG-13.

No screen fatigue here. The new Wes Craven thriller “Red Eye” is among the director’s finest efforts: a lean, focused work that concentrates much of its claustrophobic terror within the not-so-friendly skies.

This surprisingly smart, insidious little film from first-time feature writer Carl Ellsworth is really just a collection of cliches, but they are assembled so well and directed with such verve, the familiar groove they create allows for a movie that achieves an admirable briskness.

The film stars Rachel McAdams (“The Wedding Crashers,” “The Notebook”) as hotel manager Lisa Reisert, who is exactly the sort of person you want in your corner should you ever arrive at your destination with a bum reservation.

Efficient and accommodating to a level that suggests she’s next in line for sainthood, Lisa, when we first see her, is busy multitasking her way to LAX, where she plans to board a plane that will take her home to Miami.

Problem is, the weather outside is frightful, with a hail of electrical storms keeping her grounded in Los Angeles longer than she anticipated. This is of particular concern to Lisa since soon to arrive at her hotel is Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security Charles Keefe (Jack Scalia), a VIP guest whose own security is of obvious national importance.

Still, what can she do? When she meets cute with fellow stranded passenger Jackson Rippner (Cillian Murphy), whose disarming sense of humor and quirky good looks heighten her attraction to him, there’s the sense in Lisa’s reluctant smile that being delayed in the company of a stranger sometimes has its advantages.

And sometimes it doesn’t.

The moment they board the plane and are seated next to each other, the nightmare for Lisa begins, with Jackson quickly dropping the cute act, demanding that she make a phone call to change Keefe’s room to that of another, where he will be assassinated. If she chooses not to make the call, her father (Brian Cox) will be executed. If she does, Keefe and his family will be dead.

The film is at its best when we’re on the plane. In its tight, intimate close-ups of its jittery stars, what you notice are traces of Alfred Hitchcock – the sexual undertones, the reality within the surreal – infused with Brian De Palma’s slick, sloping camerawork.

Toward the end, when we’re on the ground running, Craven has unleashed his new modern-day monster. Just who and how won’t be revealed here, but it’s a nice touch and well worth the ride to find out.

Grade: B+

On video and DVD

BEAUTY SHOP, directed by Billie Woodruff, written by Kate Lanier and Norman Vance Jr., 105 minutes, rated PG-13.

Queen Latifah as a beleaguered hairstylist fighting the system and fighting the man. She’s a widow struggling to raise her daughter while also making a go of it as the owner of her own beauty shop in an Atlanta ghetto.

The film is an offspring of the popular “Barbershop” franchise, with all signs suggesting it will feature the same biting social satire that made the original “Barbershop” such a smart, controversial hit. But that’s not the case. “Beauty Shop” is so timid and homogenized, it could put a flop in your flip.

The film stars Latifah as Gina Norris, who has recently moved from the south side of Chicago to Atlanta, where she works at an exclusive salon for the Euro-trashy Jorge Christophe, played here by Kevin Bacon in full mincing swish.

The likable cast is squandered, with Alicia Silverstone lost as the dumbest of hair-burning hillbillies, Djimon Hounsou almost wordless as Gina’s grinning love interest, and Andie MacDowell and Mena Suvari serviceable as members of Gina’s wealthy, white clientele. They dig Gina’s homegrown hair conditioner, Hair Crack, so much, they follow her to her new digs, thus causing all sorts of problems with Jorge.

This is Latifah’s fifth disappointment in a row, and it deepens the divide between the outstanding work she did in her Academy Award-nominated performance in 2002’s “Chicago,” and her more recent work in such underwhelming duds as “The Cookout” and “Taxi.”

“Beauty Shop” doesn’t lack charisma, and it does offer the occasional chuckle, but it leans so hard on its ethnic, gender and sexual stereotypes, it mines a comedy of no significance. Its situations are forced, the writing is trash, and as a result, it has the stink of a home perm all over it.

Grade: C-

Christopher Smith is the Bangor Daily News film critic. His reviews appear Mondays in Discovering, Fridays in Happening, Weekends in Television, and are archived at RottenTomatoes.com. He may be reached at BDNFilm1@aol.com.