The kids just don't get it, do they? Occidental youth continue to gallivant through the exotic, rudely governed ends of the earth despite Hollywood's repeated warnings that behind every Buddhist stupa or casbah gate awaits some nightmarish twist of fate. The routine has gotten pretty old by now. One moment you're taking in a rich eyeful of non-Western scenery, and the next, poor Claire Danes and Kate Beckinsale are behind bars in a Thai prison ("Brokedown Palace"), or Deborah Winger has morphed into a Touareg sex slave ("The Sheltering Sky"), or the sumptuous French actress Virginie Ledoyen, thanks to some diabolical alignment of the stars, is making out in a watery paradise with Leonardo Di-Caprio ("The Beach").

A film that really wanted to up the ante could take one of these freshfaced Westerners abroad and, say, shackle him to a murderous African dictator. How about one with a reputation for cannibalism? "The Last King of Scotland" pairs a young Scotsman with the Ugandan strongman Idi Amin and delivers two hours of taut drama and brisk, gut-wrenching action — and, yes, a forceful lesson on thirdworld adventures.

The essential premise of this blend of fact and fiction, which is based on a novel by Giles Foden and set in the 1970s, is a bit of a stretch: A young doctor (James McAvoy) volunteering at a village clinic in Uganda happens to be the only medical expert around when Amin's (Forest Whitaker) convoy gets in a smash-up on a back road. General Amin, who served with Scots during Uganda's days as a British colony, is partial to Dr. Nicholas Garrigan's native land (the film's title refers to one of many titles His Excellency President for Life bestowed upon himself during his eight-year rule). Amin also takes a shine to Nicholas, a brash, candid type, and makes him his personal physician.

Because the filmmakers have done their homework, and because the film ends up as more of a parable about post-colonial Africa than the final word on Amin's reign of terror, the plot can afford a weak hinge. Nevertheless, it's a credit to director Kevin McDonald and his fine leading men that exactly how Nicholas got where he is for most of the movie is quickly forgotten.

Mr. McAvoy's Nicholas is sporting, friendly, obtuse, and totally recognizable; Mr. Whitaker's rich but loose impersonation (the real Amin spoke an eighth-grader's English and managed to sit still from time to time) begins with his impressive physicality and could well end with an Oscar. With his terrifying, on-a-dime switches from bonhomie to barbarism, you can feel Mr. Whitaker siphon the schizophrenia of the Olympians into a single modern autocrat — without, amazingly, ever giving the impression he's trying to steal the show.

Mr. McDonald, best known for his Oscar-winning documentary "One Day in September," uses the tools of non-fiction filmmaking — mainly zooms and sharp edits — to send the viewer hurtling through one man's experience of a revolution gone awry.

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