Paranoid

If history has taught us anything, it’s that no one is truly safe. That gathering dread fueled some great ’70s paranoid thrillers, such as “The Parallax View” and “The Conversation,” but it’s been difficult to replicate that eeriness in today’s extremely online world, when our devices explain and obfuscate with abandon, conspiracies are lifeblood and we feel persecuted one day, invincibly anonymous the next.

The nifty premise of “Relay,” a new white-knuckle ride from “Hell or High Water” director David Mackenzie, is that a certain type of tech-savvy hero can, if not completely ease your anxiety, at least navigate a secret truce with those out to get you. And Riz Ahmed’s solitary off-the-grid fixer, Ash, who hides in plain sight in bustling New York, can do it without ever meeting or talking to you: His preferred mode of traceless communication is the text-telephone service that hard-of-hearing people use in conjunction with message-relaying operators. Like a ready-made covert operation, it keeps identities, numbers and call logs secret.

For the simple fact that “Relay” is not about an assassin (the movies’ most over-romanticized independent contractor), screenwriter Justin Piasecki’s scenario deserves kudos. Rather, Ash’s broker helps potential whistleblowers escape the clutches of dangerously far-reaching entities — unless, of course, they want to settle for cash. It’s a fascinatingly cynical update: Should we make an uneasy peace with our tormentors? (Hello, today’s headlines.)

Before those questions get their due, however, “Relay” sets itself up with clockwork precision as a straightforward big-city nail-biter about staying one step ahead. Seeking protection from harassment and a return to normal life, rattled biotech scientist Sarah (Lily James) goes on the run with incriminating documents about her former employer. When she’s rebuffed by a high-powered law firm, she’s provided a mysterious number to call. Ash, armed with his elaborate vetting methods, puts Sarah through the paces with rules and instructions regarding burner phones, mailed packages and a detailed itinerary of seemingly random air travel. It doesn’t just test her commitment, though — it’s also a ploy to scope out the corporate goons on her trail: a dogged surveillance team led by Sam Worthington (who should maybe only play bad guys) and Willa Fitzgerald.

As the story careens through airports and post offices and New York’s hidey-holes, the cat-and-mouse chase is dizzyingly enjoyable, worthy of a Thomas Perry novel. We wait for the missteps that threaten everything, of course, and they begin with learning that Ash is a failed whistleblower himself, one who is beginning to question his chosen crusade. Another vulnerability, recognizable in the occasional cracks in Ahmed’s commanding stoicism, is the loneliness of the gig. So when a restive Sarah, on one of their protected calls, gently prods for a smidgen of personality from her mysterious unseen helper, one is inclined to shout, “No feelings! Too risky!”

But that, of course, is the slippery pleasure of “Relay,” which pits individuals against venal institutional might. Flaws are the beating hearts of these movies, triggering the peril that makes the blood pump faster. Some of that effectiveness is undercut by some off-putting music choices, but McKenzie’s command of the material is rock solid, Giles Nuttgens’ cinematography achieves a sleek, moody metallic chill and Matt Mayer’s editing is always fleet. In a year that’s already given us one superlative case of adult peekaboo — Steven Soderbergh’s “Black Bag” — “Relay” proves there’s still more room for smart, punchy cloak-and-dagger options.

A balladeer in the body of a headbanger, Ozzy Osbourne brought soul and emotion to the heavy-metal genre he helped invent as the frontman of Black Sabbath and which he turned into a global force as an outrage-courting solo act. Osbourne, who died Tuesday at 76 — just weeks after he gave what he billed as his final performance in his hometown of Birmingham, England — sold tens of millions of albums, was twice inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and late in life found an unlikely second career as a pioneering reality-television star. Here, in the order they were released, are 10 of his essential songs.

Black Sabbath, ‘Paranoid’ (1970)

As heavy as Black Sabbath was, the band could also be remarkably light on its feet, as in the group’s zippy breakout single, which hit No. 4 on the U.K. pop chart. “Paranoid” is narrated by a depressed young man who “can’t see the things that make true happiness,” as Osbourne sings against Tony Iommi’s chugging guitar riff. Yet the song keeps hurtling forward with a kind of dogged determination. Black Sabbath closed with “Paranoid” — current stream count on Spotify: 1.3 billion — at this month’s farewell concert.

Black Sabbath, ‘War Pigs’ (1970)
An antiwar protest song as pointed as John Fogerty’s “Fortunate Son,” “War Pigs” couches its musings on the mendacity of Vietnam’s architects in images of witches and sorcerers poisoning brainwashed minds. The disgust in Osbourne’s sneering vocal is still palpable.

Black Sabbath, ‘Iron Man’ (1970)
Leave it to Osbourne to find the empathy in this bludgeoning yet weirdly tender account of a guy who travels through time to save humanity only to be “turned to steel in the great magnetic field” on his return trip. “Nobody wants him / They just turn their heads,” he sings, “Nobody helps him / Now he has his revenge.”

Black Sabbath, ‘Sweet Leaf’ (1971)
A love song addressed to weed? Osbourne stretches the bit about as far as it can go as Iommi cranks out the sludgy lick that would later be sampled prominently by the Beastie Boys in their “Rhymin & Stealin.”

Black Sabbath, ‘Changes’ (1972)
Osbourne’s most touching vocal performance came in this woebegone piano ballad from Black Sabbath’s fourth album; he sings with so much agony about a romantic breakup that the song doesn’t even bother with guitar or drums. In 2003, Osbourne recut “Changes” as a duet with his then-19-year-old daughter Kelly; a decade later, the soul singer Charles Bradley recorded a wrenching cover not long before he died.

‘Crazy Train’ (1980)
Osbourne got the boot from Black Sabbath in 1979 after his bandmates tired of his drug and alcohol abuse. Yet Osbourne quickly rebounded as a solo act, scoring a Top 10 rock radio hit on his first try with “Crazy Train,” which he wrote and recorded with guitarist Randy Rhoads, who’d left Quiet Riot to join Osbourne’s band. Lyrically, “Crazy Train” contemplates the “millions of people living as foes” amid the Cold War — a dark theme that somehow led to Osbourne’s most euphoric song.

‘Mr. Crowley’ (1980)
To follow up “Crazy Train,” Osbourne and Rhoads — who would tragically die in a plane crash in 1982 while on tour with Osbourne — revived Black Sabbath’s preoccupation with the occult for this midtempo jam about the self-styled prophet Aleister Crowley.

‘No More Tears’ (1991)

Unlike many heavy-metal elders, Osbourne stayed relevant into the grunge era with hits like the bleakly hypnotic title track from his quadruple-platinum “No More Tears” LP, which showcased his close collaboration with guitarist Zakk Wylde.

‘Mama, I’m Coming Home’ (1991)
“No More Tears” yielded another staple of early-’90s MTV in this soaring power ballad that Osbourne and Wylde wrote with Lemmy Kilmister of Motörhead.

Post Malone featuring Ozzy Osbourne and Travis Scott, ‘Take What You Want’ (2019)
At 70, Osbourne surprised many with his robust vocal cameo in this trap-metal pile-up from Post Malone’s smash “Hollywood’s Bleeding” LP. The singer’s collaboration with producer Andrew Watt on “Take What You Want” led to Osbourne’s recruiting Watt to oversee his final two solo albums: 2020’s “Ordinary Man” and 2022’s Grammy-winning “Patient Number 9.”