In his four films to date, Reading-born director Peter Strickland has been to Hungary for Katalin Varga (2009), Italy for Berberian Sound Studio (2012) and a continental neverland for The Duke of Burgundy (2014). Now, he returns home for the first time to set In Fabric in Thames-Valley-on-Thames, a parodic variation on his home town that serves as the perfect time-warp setting for a dark consumerist satire that feels as though Dario Argento and David Lynch had been so smitten with Paul Thomas Anderson's Phantom Thread (2017) that they decided to piece together a giallo-inflected chiller from off-cuts from William Wyler's Jezebel (1938), Julien Duvivier's Tales of Manhattan (1942) and Jack Clayton's unsettling take on Nikolai Gogol's The Bespoke Overcoat (1955). 

Fortysomething divorcée Sheila Woolchapel (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) works at Waingel's Wavelength Bank in a time of landlines, cash transactions and lonelyhearts columns in the back of the local newspaper. Struggling to get a civil word out of aspiring artist son Vince (Jaygann Ayeh) and his new girlfriend, Gwen (Gwendoline Christie), Sheila spots a TV commercial for the Dentley & Soper department store, just as she is contemplating buying a new dress to start dating again. The sound of Gwen's noisy orgasm, heard while snooping through a crack in Vince's bedroom door, convinces Sheila to respond to an ad placed by Adonis Jackson (Anthony Adjekum) and allow sales assistant Miss Luckmoore (Fatma Mohamed) to talk her into purchasing an `Ambassadorial Function' dress in artery red, with a black insect embroidered on the waist and the legend `You who wear me will know me' hidden in the hem.

There's something Mitteleuropeanly eerie about Miss Luckmoore's gnomic sales patter and time seems to stand still as she asks Sheila for her name, address and telephone number, while waiting for the pneumatic tube to provide her change. But the way in which she dictates the details to an unseen scribe after Sheila has returned to work feels even more unnerving, as though she has been marked out in some mysterious way. As Luckmoore removes her wig and crouches in the dumb waiter to descend into the bowels of the store, Sheila dresses for her rendezvous with Adonis in a Greek restaurant. He proves boorishly monosyllabic and Sheila's dour time is exacerbated by the discover that the dress has brought out a rash on her chest. 

Gwen and Vince notice the rash while playing a board game, in which the former delights in defeating Sheila, who has made it clear to her teenage son that she disapproves of the much older Gwen turning her home into a bordello and trying on the red dress without permission. However, they are interrupted when the washing machine goes into a violent spin cycle and Sheila gets a nasty cut in her arm in a bid to stop the appliance from coming apart at the seams. Meanwhile, Dentley & Soper boss, Mr Lundy  (Richard Bremmer), masturbates furiously, as Luckmoore and Miss Lullworth (Susanna Cappellaro) festishistically wash one of the store mannequins (which comes complete with luxuriant pubic hair) and Luckmoore smears her bright red lipstick in response to the old voyeur's seedy pleasure.

The next day, bank managers Stash (Julian Barratt) and Clive (Steve Oram) give Sheila a series of reprimands about the quality of her handshake and the duration of her bathroom breaks. They also provide the name of a reliable washing machine repair man. During her lunch break, she returns an item to Dentley & Soper and is dismayed to learn that Jill Woodmere (Sidse Babett Knudsen), who modelled the dress for the store catalogue, was killed on a zebra crossing shortly after the shoot. Luckmoore tries to be reassuring, but tears out the page and secretes the folded paper in an intimate place to prevent anyone else from seeing it. 

Shuddering at the discovery that Gwen wears underwear bearing Vince's face, while he makes peculiarly erotic drawings of her, Sheila arranges a date with Zach (Barry Adamson). He happens to be a customer at the bank and recalls Sheila sending him a stern note about an overdraft. They get on well and go dancing, while Gwen has a nightmare about being attacked by the dress during an S&M session with Vince. 

Back at the store, Lundy and Luckmoore put on a show of obeisance for the customers waiting at the door for the start of the Dentley & Soper sale, But Sheila is not among them, as she invites Zach over for a stir fry and they wind up in bed after he coaxes her into putting on the red dress. As they sleep, the garment slips under the door and billows above the stairwell. However, it gets torn the next day when Sheila is attacked by a dog while walking with Zach and she is astonished when Vince informs her that there isn't a mark on it when he finds it in a carrier bag. 

That night, the dress causes a scraping noise, as it swishes its coat hangar along the rail inside the wardrobe (as Luckmoore does a series of abrupt gyrations in the shop storeroom). Having reached the end of her tether, Sheila attempts to return the gown, but can't find the receipt and she is so frustrated by the cryptic utterances of Luckmoore and Lundy that she storms out and returns to work. Stash and Clive summon her to their office, where they chide her for waving informally to the mistress of the bank's owner. They ask if she is taking drugs and she reassures them that she has only been having the odd sleepless night because of nightmares like the one involving a dress her mother had worn in the grave, which mysteriously reappeared and gave off such a stench of death that is caused a bus driver to go over a cliff. 

Deciding to give the dress to a charity shop, Sheila drives along an unlit country road to spend the night with Zach. She is distracted by the sight of a naked Dentley & Soper mannequin in the trees and crashes on swerving to avoid another standing in her path. As she crawls from the wreckage, Sheila sees the dress that had been locked in a suitcase on the backseat float into the bare branches of a tree before landing on the tarmac, as the screen fades to black.

While one charity shop customer has a narrow miss, Bananas Brian (Terry Bird) randomly grabs the red dress and forces washing machine repair man Reg Speaks (Leo Bill) to wear it during his stag night. When he wakes the next morning, fiancée Babs (Hayley Squires) spots a rash on his chest, which he puts down to the after-effects of lots of beer and a dodgy kebab. Hauling himself out of bed, Reg goes on his rounds and tries to blind Pam (Caroline Catz) with technical jargon when she starts asking awkward questions about his upcoming nuptials and his undying faithfulness to Babs. She finds the dress and tries it on and is puzzled how it fits her perfectly when she is much smaller than Reg. 

Babs also develops a rash, which she notices while trying on a blue dress at Dentley & Soper, where Reg barely looks up from his magazine as Lundy puts a shoplifter in a neck hold. Walking past a window display of stockinged legs, however, he does have a flashback to a childhood brush with an older woman helping him try on a jerkin. But this is entirely forgotten when the couple return home to find the dress in a puddle of red liquid in front of the open washing machine. While Reg attempts to repair the damage, Babs's eyes glaze over as he gives a droning commentary and we see the dress fluttering ominously on the washing line. 

With Christmas passing and the wedding day approaching, Babs keeps fretting about the music for the night do. But Reg has more to worry about, as he is fired for fixing his own washing machine and his boss, Cottrell (Graham Martin), chews up and swallows his ID card in menacing silence. He doesn't tell Babs about losing his job, as she is upset because her canary has died after the dress covered its cage during the night. 

Instead, he goes to the bank to ask Stash and Clive for a loan and they remember him fixing their washing machine and ask him to repeat the spiel he had given them, as they had found it oddly arousing. Unable to focus, Reg gives a stuttering rendition and Stash encourages him to share any problems he might be having. He relates a dream he had about Babs delivering a baby daughter in a red dress and how disappointed he had been when the newborn had flipped him the finger. In order to shake the memory, he gives his patter another try and Clive and Stash hold hands with rolling eyes, as they listen fervently. 

Having checked the pilot light on the faulty boiler, Babs goes shopping and Luckmoore notices she is wearing the red dress when she pops into Dentley & Soper. She tries to make her leave by explaining that they have a strict dress code. But Babs has worked in retail and knows her rights and reminds Luckmoore that the customer is always right. While Reg watches a Dentley & Soper commercial (as the boiler begins to overheat), Babs tells Luckmoore about a dream she had about being a model in the store catalogue, whose weight kept fluctuating in one of the images. After she had died, the catalogue pages were cut into pieces and placed in a trunk similar to the coffin in which Babs was buried in the dress department. 

Stifling a yawn, Luckmoore shows Babs to an empty changing cubicle and she fails to notice, as the red dress slides under the door. At the counter, two customers get into a fight about who was at the front of the queue and Luckmoore is powerless to stop the fracas descending into chaos, as other patrons start looting the premises. As Reg succumbs to carbon monoxide poisoning, the dress lands on an electric bar fire and begins a blaze. The thieving customers dart towards the exits, as the tannoy warning becomes increasingly hysterical. But, while Babs is locked in her changing-room (or `transformation sphere'), Luckmoore manages to salvage the top half of her favourite mannequin and crawl into the dumb waiter. She looks out, as the elevator descends and sees Jill the model, Sheila, Reg and Babs all sitting at sewing machines making red dresses. 

Closing with a shot of an investigator finding the undamaged dress in the charred shell of the shop, this is a film that also rather peters out after initially burning brightly. Despite the best efforts of Haley Squires and Leo Bill, the second storyline fails to hold the attention after the gripping excellence of the Marianne Jean-Baptiste episode. There's no doubt that the quirky antics of Fatma Mohamed and Julian Barratt and Steve Oram lose their novelty value as the action continues. But it's the lack of idiosyncratic supporting characters on a par with Gwendoline Christie's kinky vamp that leaves the second segment feeling a little threadbare. 

Opting not to dwell on the dress's provenance or the rationale behind its baleful powers, Strickland tells his tales with the stylised archness that has become his trademark. He is ably abetted by production designer Paki Smith, costumier Jo Thompson and cinematographer Ari Wegner in creating the contrasting sites across Thames-Valley-on-Thames. But much also depends on the sinuous editing of Mátyás Fekete, Martin Pavey's babbling sound and a synthesizer score by Tim Gane, Joe Dilworth and Holger Zapf of Cavern of Anti-Matter that takes its cues from the bespoke soundtracks tailored by Goblin for Dario Argento. The influence of executive producer Ben Wheatley can also be detected on the sometimes sluggishly Kafkaesque proceedings. But, for all its visual elegance, thematic acuity and tongue-in-cheek panache, this always feels more off the peg than off the hook and, thus, never quite validates one's paradigm of consumerism.

Despite its continued influence on American independent cinema, Mumblecore has rather fallen into disrepute, largely because so many of its earliest practitioners have dismissed the term. Indeed, it's become increasingly rare for British cinemas to carry the films of Joe Swanberg, Lynn Shelton, Aaron Katz and Ry Russo-Young, while brothers Jay and Mark Duplass appear to have abandoned directing for producing and acting. The exception to the rule is Andrew Bujalski, whose sixth feature, Support the Girls, arrives in the UK on the back of the warm(ish) receptions accorded Funny Ha Ha (2002), Mutual Appreciation (2003), Beeswax (2008), Computer Chess (2013) and Results (2015). 

Lisa Conroy (Regina Hall) is the manager of Double Whammies, a Texas breastaurant run by the bigotedly ignorant, Ben Cubby (James LeGros). Hiding her tears, she greets waitress Maci (Haley Lu Richardson) at the start of a morning briefing for new applicants and assures them that, skimpy uniforms aside, this is a family eaterie frequented by men who need a woman to take good care of them. She highlights the house rules, the first of which is `NO DRAMA!', and promises them that anyone who is informed, efficient, friendly and sexy is guaranteed big tips. They'll also be spared the pawing that happens in similar establishments, providing they keep to the guidelines and don't let flirting go too far. 

A knocking in an air vent calls Lisa away and the cops find a man trapped inside after trying to break into the safe office. While she leaves them to sussing out a way to extract the suspect, Lisa asks new recruits like Jennelle (Dylan Gelula) if anyone would be willing to participate in an unofficial car wash to raise some emergency funds to help Shaina (Jana Kramer), who is staying with her and husband Cameron (Lawrence Varnado) after driving into her abusive boyfriend in her motor. She is also trying to assist single mother, Danyelle (Shayna McHayle). But, as Cubby's Rainbow Policy limits the roster to one black waitress per shift, her hours are limited and Lisa has to warn her to watch her mouth, as Danyelle is quite prepared to speak her mind. However, she also needs her to sweet talk sound system salesman Jay (John Elvis) into lending them some speakers to blast out the music during the car wash and leaves her in the next-door store to endure a demonstration of a newfangled home entertainment package. 

While getting the place ready for opening time, Lisa chats to Bobo (Lea DeLaria), a trucker regular who acts as an unofficial minder to the staff. She shows Lisa phone footage of Shaina arguing with her boyfriend and wonders whether people are going to be happy to donate to a fundraiser for such a dubious cause. However, Danyelle talks Jay into letting them borrow some speakers and Lisa tells her teenage son, McKray (Jermichael Grey), that his mother is a keeper. Unfortunately, chef Arturo (Steve Zapata) proves a bit more dispensable, as Lisa recognises the air vent thief as one of his relatives. But she asks him to finish his shift, as she's short-staffed going into the lunchtime rush. 

When a biker calls one of the girls fat, Lisa asks him to leave and the cops busting the thief loom in the background to ensure he leaves after a flare of temper. Frustrated in her efforts to get a technician to repair the TV sets over the bar in time for that night's big fight, Lisa keeps an eye on McKray, who is drawing ninjas at a side table, while Danyelle helps out with the car wash. She also has to remind Maci not to get too close to the customers after seeing her sitting at the table of kindly old professor Dennis (Dennis Moore). But she lets it slide when she hears that Maci has been inquiring about getting a lawyer to help defend Shaina. 

As we see the various customers tucking into their fast food, Cubby shows up unexpectedly and gives Lisa a rollocking about the break-in, the car wash and the broken TVs. She barks back that running this joint isn't a cakewalk, but he is in a foul mood after being forced to come back from holiday to deal with things. Just about buying Lisa's explanation that the car wash is an experiment to lure customers, Cubby insists on taking the money she's raised and orders her into his car so they can go and bank it. 

They drive past the soon-to-open Mancave, which is part of a nationwide chain that is going to eat into Cubby's business and he tells Lisa that she's lucky he doesn't fire her. As he's pulling a dinghy and driving erratically in his tantrum, Cubby gets buzzed by a passing motorist and he follows him to his suburban home in order to confront him. However, the driver punches him in the stomach and Lisa gets out of the car and calls Cameron to collect her because she can't stand to be around Cubby any longer. 

At least she gets to hang on to the cash and is counting it when Cameron arrives. She has arranged for him to view an apartment because she wants him to move out because he has become so morose that he's bringing her down. He is reluctant to go, however, and Lisa ticks him off for giving up on the world. Entrusting him with Shaina's cash, Lisa returns to work, where several missed calls from Cubby convince her that he is finally going to follow through on one of his frequent threats and fire her. Fighting off a panic attack, she scarcely appreciates it when Maci lets off a confetti popper and whoops out that everyone loves her. 

Lisa spots Krista (AJ Michalka) in the nearby café and can't believe she has had a torso tattoo of basketball star Steph Curry, as Cubby has a zero tolerance policy on body ink. They wander back to Double Whammies to find Danyelle on the phone to Cubby. He has offered her Lisa's job, as he plans to fire her for not contacting him about the  robbery. But she has no intention of taking Lisa's job, even though she could do with the money. However, Lisa has reached the end of her rope and is ready to quit. She tells Jennelle to follow Maci's example if she wants to succeed, but has to ask the latter to jump start her car, as her battery has gone flat. 

Arriving home, she finds that Cameron has moved out. She also discovers that Shaina has got back with Chris (Sam Stinson) and plans to use the cash to pay his medical bills. But Lisa refuses to let them take it and is willing to risk her friendship with Shaina to prevent Chris from benefiting in any way from the efforts of her former workmates. She asks Arturo to sneak the money into the safe during the evening shift and gives him a ski mask so that he won't be recognised on the CCTV. 

While Lisa sits alone with a bowl of soup, Danyelle and Maci try to keep the customers happy while Cubby makes an illegal connection to the cable to get the boxing on. There are boorish comments from the impatient customers, as Maci climbs on to the bar and suggests a toast to Lisa. But, when Danyelle gets a drink spilt over her, she decides enough is enough. Sabotaging the cable link, she clambers on to the bar with Maci and talks Jay into shaking his booty with them. 

Cubby's sidekick, Mark (Jonny Mars), tries to talk them down, as off-duty cop Dominguez (Luis Olmeda) is watching proceedings with a jaundiced eye. But, when Bobo threatens to thump one of the patrons who tells Maci and Danyelle that they aren't hot enough to distract them from the boxing, things start to get out of control. In an effort to help out, Jennelle jumps on to the bar and reveals some cleavage. But she exposes a nipple by mistake and Dominguez orders everyone to leave and Cubby emerges from the back room to an empty restaurant and a decidedly uncertain future. 

A short time later, Lisa goes for an interview at the Mancave and gets along well with the interviewer, Kara (Brooklyn Decker), who is very much into the corporate ethos. As she leaves, however, Lisa is dismayed to see Maci and Danyelle in the corridor waiting to be seen about waitressing jobs. She hangs around until they emerge and follows them on to the roof to share a bottle that Danyelle has hidden in her bag. Lisa apologises for quitting and letting them down. But they aren't bothered, as they all hated Cubby and Maci can now date Dennis without getting into trouble. They question her taste in hooking up with such an old man, but she seems happy and shouts from the rooftop, as the sound of the highway traffic drowns her out, Danyelle suggests a few therapeutic yells are in order and Lisa joins in, as they get it all out of their system and prepare to face whatever gets hurled at them next. 

There's an irony in the fact that great women in the workplace films like Martin Ritt's Norma Rae (1979), Colin Higgins's 9 to 5 (1980) and Mike Nichols's Silkwood (1983) have all been directed by men. This grown-up version of David McNally's Coyote Ugly (2000) isn't quite in their league, as it drifts towards a denouement that recalls William Friedkin's The Night They Raided Minksy's (1968). But this cannily scripted saga is a solid celebration of sisterly solidarity that slips in a few choice `state of the nation' observations to give the action a sharper socio-political edge, as Bujaksi highlights the chauvinism, bigotry and I'm All Right Jack insularity that bolsters the current misguided bid to make America great again. 

The ensemble playing is immaculate, with Haley Lu Richardson, James LeGros and newcomer Shayna McHayle (who is perhaps better known by her rap moniker, Junglepussy). But Regina Hall is outstanding as the manager struggling to maintain her dignity in the face of domestic and shopfloor provocations. One suspects the clamour would have been louder had the role been played by a high-profile actor like Viola Davis, Octavia Spencer or Regina King. However, Hall holds the picture together with a pragmatic grasp of the reality of her situation that makes it all the more authentic. However, Matthias Grunsky's restless camerawork, Jake Kuykendale's splendid interiors and Karen Skloss's relentless editorial pacing enable the admirably non-judgmental and resolutely unpatronising Bujalski to spice the comedy with generous dashes of sour truth.

While Bollywood movies have become a familiar part of the British cine-scene, the pictures made in Lollywood are rarely shown here. Admittedly, the film industry based in Lahore is nowhere near as prolific as its Mumbai counterpart and has a much smaller diasporic following. But the odd Pakistani voice gets heard above the clamour and it's good to see that Sadia Saeed's Arifa has managed to find a UK distributor. 

Born in Karachi, Saeed was raised in Australia from the age of six and started writing and making films while studying at the University of New South Wales. However, she has been based in London for the last seven years and followed the 2015 short, Aleeza and Harriet - which centred on Aleeza Daulat's anger management sessions with speech and behavioural pathologist Harriet Whitby - with the 2016 play, The Deported. Keen to present an insight into the realities of being a woman in the British Asian community while striving to avoid clichés and caricatures, this is a thoughtful and sincere piece that deserves to find its audience. 

Branded high maintenance by workmate Michael (Rez Kempton) after she confesses to being a 28 year-old virgin at the end of a date, Arifa (Shermin Hassan) gets so little support from her mother Farida (Taru Devani), and sister, Amina (Nimisha Odedra), that she confides her feelings to her therapist, Shabana (Shazia Mirza). Best friend Sara (Zehra Naqvi) isn't sure she should trust a shrink who keeps giving her bad advice and nagging her about her self-image. But Arifa follows her suggestion about going to a gym and is feeling the effects when Italian gamer Ricardo (Luca Pusceddu) approaches her in the Soho café where she is working on her novel. Initially, she thinks he's a creep who believes in stereotypes, but they get chatting and she warms to his quirky worldview. 

Arifa agrees to meet Ric again and is amused by his gauchely sincere compliments and mock sense of injustice when he tells her about the breakdown of his last relationship. She agrees to go out with him and promises to still be his girlfriend when he gets back from a gaming tournament. Ironically, just as they become an item, Michael drops by her desk at the insurance company where they work and she invents a deadline to end an awkward silence that was similar to the one that followed her attempt to hug her mother, who is too preoccupied with the prospect of ex-husband Hameed (Jeff Mirza) moving back home to offer Arifa any maternal warmth. 

With Sara also being too busy to go out with her, Arifa has to stay home and work on her writing. However, when she shows a story to Eddie (Brett Fancy), he is cuttingly dismissive of what he considers to be a magazine article before giving her a tutorial on how to set up conflict between a protagonist and antagonist (during which Arifa scribbles some notes). When she tries to talk to Hameed, he goes into a rambling spiel about how his phone and e-mail accounts have been hacked and snaps at Arifa when she tries to make suggestions about diversifying his share portfolio. She gets suspicious when she sees him weighing what he insists is tobacco for some respectable elderly customers and loses her patience with Farida when she announces that Hameed wants to borrow £5000 to buy some more shares. 

Her real source of frustration, however, is that Ric has returned to Italy and keeps leaving long gaps between phone calls. When he resurfaces, she is in a bad mood after being informed by Eddie that she should be embarrassed by her writing. However, Ric does little to cheer her up by refusing to explain why she can find nothing about him online and declining to show her his passport. She likes him, but doesn't want to commit to a phantom and dismisses his protestations that he takes his privacy seriously and doesn't like giving too much away.

Following a row with her father over his reluctance to contribute to the mortgage, Arifa decides to move out and rents a room from Shabana. However, she immediately has second thoughts after an unpleasant encounter with the eccentric Stella (Tina Gray), who owns the building. Arifa also accuses Sara of talking too much and has a run in with a gym instructor (Athene Parker) who refuses to let her leave her bag on the floor. When she complains to the manager (Jon Scott-Clarke), he says other class members heard Arifa swearing at the instructor under her breath and he refuses to reprimand his employee.

While Amina tries to help her father by hiding some of his tobacco supplies in a flat being searched by the police, Arifa goes to Brighton to meet Ric. He fails to show and Arifa rushes back to London when she hears that Hameed has been arrested. Detective Cameron (George Camiller) tell them that there is a possibility that Hameed might be pushing merchandise for the Taliban and Arifa has a blazing row with her mother and sister when she admits to being exasperated with her family. But, while the charges are dropped, the words cannot be retracted and they return home in taxi sience. 

That night, Arifa apologises to Hameed, who tells her that his life has been weird over the last two years and she begins to cry and climbs on to the sofa to hug him. The next day, she also apologises to Jason (Lenox Kambaba) at the corner shop for snapping at him over the size of the carrier bags and heads out into the cold chill to get on with her life.

Written and directed with considerable care and charm, this is a noteworthy debut that contains echoes of those 1960s dramedies about single girls in the grim north and swinging south. There's also a hint of TV series like Take Three Girls (1969-71), as Arifa negotiates the pitfalls of modern life. Forever facing assumptions from strangers and from within her own community, she can't understand why nobody is willing to accept her on her own terms. But, in her own way, she's as tricky a character to empathise with as Emily Beecham's hard-drinking waitress in Peter Mackie Burns's Daphne (2017). However, such is the honesty of Shermin Hassan's performance (which keeps recalling Mindy Kahling in The Mindy Project, 2012-17) that it's easy to be drawn into Arifa's world.

The action occasionally errs towards melodrama, as it does in the subplot involving Hameed's shady antics, while, the attempts at wry self-reflexivity by having Arifa's story ideas shredded by a smugly disengaged critic, don't quite come off. Similarly, while comedian Jeff Mirza provides solid support, not all of the support playing is so accomplished. But there's much to commend in Giuseppe Pignone's Sohoscapes and views of the wintry coastline, as well as the piano score by Level 42's Mike Lindup. Moreover, it takes courage to coax the audience into investing in an offbeat romance and then dispose of it without providing any explanation and leaving lots of unanswered questions hanging in the air. But the most puzzling aspect of this Kickstarted picture is why it remains its star's sole credit. 

Although it won the Academy Award for Best Picture, Mel Gibson's tubthumping Pom-basher, Braveheart (1995), did more for the cause of Scottish nationalism than that of academic accuracy. The role of Robert the Bruce was played in this paean to William Wallace by Angus Macfadyen and he has long planned a film devoted to the warrior king, whose victory over the forces of Edward II at Bannockburn in 1314 resulted, six years later, in the establishment of an independent kingdom through the Declaration of Arbroath, 

Unfortunately, while Macfadyen and Australian director Richard Gray were developing their project, Netflix commissioned Scot David Mackenzie to make Outlaw King (2018) with Chris Pine in the title role. Both films have their authenticity issues. But, while the Glasgow-based Mackenzie opted to shoot in his homeland, the more cash-strapped Gray had to make do with Montana as his backdrop. More damningly, Robert the Bruce is saddled with a slipshod screenplay by Macfadyen and Eric Belgau that presumes far too much foreknowledge and dots the action of this Haggis Western with inconsequential subplots and unidentified characters who are played by gaggle of multinational players with seemingly little grasp of the Scottish brogue.

Opening captions inform us that Scotland has been left in turmoil by the death of Alexander III in 1306, as several nobles are competing for his crown. With some of the clans siding with the English monarch, Edward I, Robert the Bruce, who had fought alongside William Wallace, clings to the hope that Scotland can repel the invader, secure its independence and maintain the fire of freedom that burns in the hearts of its people. 

In telling the story to three children - nephew Carney (Brandon Lessard), niece Iver (Talitha Bateman) and son Scottt (Gabriel Bateman) - widowed crofter Morag Macfie (Anna Hutchison) takes over to explain (in the sketchiest terms) how a deal had been struck for the lands belonging to Robert the Bruce (Angus Macfadyen) to be signed over to his rival, John Comyn (Jared Harris), in return for him relinquishing the Comyn claim to the throne. But, when they meet at Greyfriars Monastery in Dumfries, Bruce senses an ambush and a fight breaks out when Comyn pulls a sword from under the altar. 

Cutting away from Morag putting her younger two to bed and reassuring Carney that Bruce will never abandon his people, we leap forward to see him disbanding his loyal followers under James Douglas (Diarmaid Murtagh) and his son Hamish (Judah Nelson) and heading into hiding with his crown in his knapsack. Unaware that three of his band - Donald (Seoras Wallace), Will (Patrick Fugit) and Thomas (Nick Farnell) - are pursuing him to claim the bounty on his head, Bruce happens upon Morag's croft and listens to her making Scott's 11th birthday by telling him what happened after Bruce slashes Comyn's throat in the chapel. Having been excommunicated by the pope, he loses his wife, Elizabeth de Burgh (Mhairi Calvey), and is defeated in a series of battles that leave him an outlaw. However, Morag has faith that he will rise again and they will all be free. 

She says this again (without any suggestion of what this freedom might entail) after the pursuing threesome enter the cottage under cover of darkness to demand food and ale. Carney pulls a sword when Will gets fresh and his companions usher him away. The next morning, they spot Bruce drinking at a pool and he is hit in the shoulder by an arrow. He kills two of the triumvirate, but loses his sword, which is used by the local sheriff, Brandubh (Zach McGowan), to kill Will after he offered to show him where Bruce is hiding.

He's in a cave learning a lesson about perseverance from his famous spider and ignores Brandubh's bellowing invitation to surrender. He is Morag's brother-in-law and she is scarcely pleased to see him when he shows up at the croft. He wants her to move into his house in the village so he can protect her. But she wishes to retain her independence and is repelled by his lascivious glances after he sends Carney to see Sean (Kevin McNally), the blacksmith to whom he is apprenticed, to get Bruce's sword repaired. It's wielded playfully by Sean's daughter, Briana (Emma Kenney), who is Carney's sweetheart.

When he shows the sword to Morag, she recognises it and pays a visit to Ylfa (Melora Walters), the soothsayer who had foretold that Scott would fight alongside Bruce on the battlefield. Meanwhile, Carney, Iver and Scott are out hunting deer when they find Bruce collapsed in the snow. They bring him home and Morag removes the arrowhead from his flesh and he recovers after having a vision in which Scott brings him news that he has triumphed and is undisputed king. Morag introduces him to the children and explains how each of their fathers served him well and he is inspired by a poem that Iver recites about never giving up. But, while Iver and Carney are happy to have him under their roof, Scott blames him for his father's death and pull a knife on Bruce at the dinner table when he patronises him about being too young to fight the good fight. 

Meanwhile, Briana eavesdrops on Brandubh talking to her father, who is happy to do what he is told for a bag of coins. Bruce confides in Morag that he had mistakenly believed that God had chosen him to be king and tells her about the dream with Scott. She is afraid her boy will die like his father, but she remains loyal and brushes off talk of treason to keep nursing him. Bruce is also impressed when Iver says she would like to live in a castle, but wouldn't feel right owning one when the land should belong to all the people equally. He also admires Carny's courage when he says he would prefer to defy his uncle and let his king keep his sword and he rewards the children by showing them where he has buried his crown. Yet, when he promises Morag that there won't be any more wars, she insists that Scotland's wives and mothers wouldn't want their sacrifices to be in vain. 

A montage follows showing Bruce becoming part of the family, as he sharpens Carny's fencing skills and helps Iver teach Scott to shoot a bow and arrow. He even dances with Morag by the cosy firelight inside the croft. But they are too busy having fun to realise they are being snooped upon until Briana comes to warn them after Brandubh's slow-witted sidekick, Finley (Shane Coffey), boasts of the imminent slaughter. She trudges through the snowy night and confirms to the Bruce that these people represent the true Scotland and he swears that he will rule for their benefit if he is ever able to reclaim his power. 

Thanking them for showing him the true way, Bruce waits inside the croft when Brandubh arrives with his posse. Morag tries to buy time by kissing her brother-in-law and promising to become his wife if he lets them see out the spring in peace. But he is not to be fooled and Bruce is forced to show himself to protect them. He urges Brandubh's men to join him and fight for justice, but a skirmish breaks out that sees Iver and Scott firing arrows from treetop platforms, while Carny and Briana kill the other henchmen with their swords. While Morag looks on in terror, Bruce and Brandubh go hand to hand inside indoors until she beans the latter with a log to stop him throttling her king before bludgeoning him to death. 

Sadly, Finley kills Briana and Carny is distraught. But, as he weeps at Briana's simple grave, he now knows what duty and combat are and he readily accompanies Bruce across the spectacularly photogenic terrain. Luckily, the first people they run into are commanded by the loyal Angus McDonald (Daniel Portman). He summons Douglas, who climbs on to a horse to urge his cohorts to fight for Scottland and, from behind the wooden pallisde, they begin to chant `Bruce' in the way cricket crowds shout `Root' for the England captain. As Bruce responds by thrusting his sword towards the sky, Iver and Scott take up the cry, pumping their fists in a suspiciously fascistic form of salutation. 

As the action ends with Morag kneeling at the grave of the son who perished at Bannockburn, we read a caption praising the efforts of thousands of (hard-working) Scottish families who made sacrifices to drive the English out of their land. After three decades of conflict, the Sassenachs accepted his right to rule and the nation flourished under his leadership. Following Iver's advice, he remained a man of the people and lived among his soldiers, without ever owning a castle. All that's missing is a shot of tartan-clad Nicola Sturgeon dabbing away a tear against a billowing Saltire.

Such 14th-century populism might play well north of the border and in the diaspora. But, despite being preferable to the boorish bombast of Braveheart, it feels a bit feeble by comparison. It also pales beside Outlaw King and rather wastes the fact that Angus Macfadyen is reprising one of his most iconic roles. As co-scenarist, however, he only has himself to blame for turning Bruce into a silent watcher of treachery and fealty, whose readiness to look and learn makes him a model monarch. He also fails to provide him with worthy adversaries, as Brandubh is essentially the McSheriff of Nottingham, in the same way that Carny, Iver and Scott are Highland variations on the Pevensie children in CS Lewis's The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. However, Iver also has some added Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games and Merida from Disney's Brave (2012) mixed in for good measure. 

Indeed, this feels a lot like the Disney Live Adventure, Rob Roy: The Highland Rogue (1953), in which Richard Todd was directed by Harold French. However, they didn't have filler drone shots of the rolling moors in those days and the support playing was a darn site better, no matter how many Game of Thrones alumni you toss in. Not that there is anything wrong with John Barrett's photography, Zach Depolo and April Hopkins's production design or Vicki Anne Hales's costumes. But the omnipresent skirl of the uilleann pipes reduces Mel Elias's to clichéd mush that deposits this in the same worthy, but dull basket as Nils Gaup's The Last King (2015) and David L.G. Hughe's Viking Destiny (2018).

Despite using the name Suzie Halewood on her previous screen ventures, SA Halewood has opted to follow the example of JK Rowling by gender neutralising her byline. Following the shorts Rocket Man II (1995) and Two Minute Warning (1999), Halewood made the first Internet movie, Running Time (2000), which was co-scripted by The Full Monty's Simon Beaufoy, along with Lone Ildgruben Bodot and Merle Nygate. Having herself scripted One More Kiss (1999) for Vadim Jean, Halewood made her feature bow with Bigga Than Ben (2008), which starred Ben Barnes and Andrey Chadov as a couple of Russian crooks on the make in London. For her sophomore outing, however, she dips into the near future in Division 19, a dystopian saga that's more notable for creating some half-decent visual effects on a modest $2 million budget than for the novelty of its storyline. 

In 2039, anonymity has become a crime and those who resist registration run the risk of being disappeared. Among those living off the grid is  cyber-terrorist Nash Jones (Will Rothhaar), who hacks into the Big Brother-like screen network so Barca (Toby Hemingway) can harangue those acquiescing in the authoritarian rule of Charles Lynden (Linus Roache). As the interventions of his Division 19 cadre are becoming more frequent and insistent in their threat to crash the system unless five key demands are met, Lynden orders Alexandra Neilsen (Alison Doody) to keep a close check on Nash's brother, Hardin (James Draven), who is in prison and the boxing star of Panopticon TV's 24-hour reality show, which shows on screens on buildings across the metropolis and frequently draws viewing figures of over 70 million. 

Resenting the fact that his brother is being exploited to pacify the populace and sell them stuff they don't need, Nash decides to liberate Hardin before he can be transferred from the maximum security prison to the Newtown facility. Trading a doughnut for some clothes with a man who is zapped from a hovering craft for smoking in the street, Hardin slips through a manhole and takes refuge in the ruined slum quarter known as Favela Town, where he cuts out the tracking device from his arm and feeds it to a rat in a piece of bread. However, he's unaware that he has a second implanted device that allows Neilsen to keep tabs on his every move and he only discovers that he's a reality star when he creeps around the nocturnal streets and catches sight of himself on a giant screen. 

Having been waylaid by some thugs in a derelict house, Hardin is rescued by Nash, who gives him contact lenses and a blade to remove his tattoos. He even advises him to change his walk so that he isn't so recognisable on the surveillance cameras. As he wanders around a bonfired wilderness, Lynden orders Michelle Jacobs (L. Scott Caldwell) and her team to round up the usual suspects in a bid to get to the Jones brothers. But, like the cops pursuing them, the Division 19 crew are parkour ninjas in hoodies and beanies are exceptionally difficult to pin down. But, just as Hardin finds refuge in a technology-free community in an abandoned zoo, Nash is captured and interrogated by Lynden.

When Hardin begins an affair with Aisha (Lotte Verbeek), Neilsen watcher George (Jennifer Soo) spots them during a drone search. But she pretends she's had no luck in tracking him down and Neilsen warns her that this isn't the time for scruples. Hardin is appalled to learn that Nash has been detained and is now the favourite felon on Panopticon. He is sheltered by Perelman (Clarke Peters), who removes the second tracker from his neck and treats him to a meal with freshly grown ingredients. His base is full of annotated maps and he tells Hardin how he can pluck Nash from Newton. Unfortunately, with Lynden and Neilsen looking on, Hardin kills his brother while trying to remove the chip and the premier is dismayed that his regime has resorted to such sensationalist bread and circusising. 

He zooms along a desert road in a red sports car in his distress and Neilsen watches in panic as he breaks into a top security facility. But Hardin rejects her entreaty to work with her and he appears to crash his vehicle into a speeding goods train. However, the baffling closing montage suggests that he is no more dead than Nash, who is seen leaving town in a trademark manner by lying on the roof of a bus. Adding to the confusion caused by the climactic smokes and mirrors, is a shot of Hardin sitting opposite Lynden in his skyscraper office before a closing image shows him looking back over his shoulder at the city lights twinkling as dusk descends. 

Credit must be given to the cast for committing so wholeheartedly to this earnest, if rarely interesting and occasionally incoherent dirgeful variation on Neil Blomkamp's District 9 (2009). But the stars of the show largely operate behind the camera, with Halewood devising a credible futureworld, designer John Collins realising it on such meagre means in the more rundown quarters of Detroit, and editors Jessica Brunetto and Laura Morrod coming up with the jittery elisions that reinforce the sense of intrusive ubiquitousness generated by Ben Moulden's camera. 

It's a bit corny to name Neilsen (sic.) after the company that registers American tele-ratings, while the score booms a bit in places. But the deft sound design and downbeat visual effects go some way to atoning, as do some of the throwaway social details Halewood includes and the Division 19 demands, which would make a decent protest agenda in this day and age. However, anyone familiar with pictures like John Carpenter's Escape From New York (1981), Ridley Scott's Blade Runner (1982), Paul Michael Glaser's The Running Man (1987), Paul Verhoeven's Total Recall (1990) and Peter Weir's The Truman Show (1998) will have seen this kind of thing done much better before. 

There have been a clutch of enjoyable documentaries about viniculture since Jonathan Nossiter got the ball rolling with Mondovino in 2004. Now, the likes of Ryan Page and Christopher Pomerenke's Blood Into Wine (2010), Jason Wise's Somm (2012), David Kennard's A Year in Burgundy (2013) and Reuben Atlas and Jerry Rothwell's Sour Grapes (2016) are joined by Bruno Sauvard's Wine Calling, which takes us into the foothills of the Pyrenees to see how various organic rebel fare during the 2016 grape harvest. 

In the dizzying opening 20 minutes, we are given a whistlestop tour of the region to meet Laurence Manya Krief of Domaine Yoyo in Banyuls, Jean-François Nicq of Les Foularos Rouges in Montesquieu-des-Albères, Stéphane Morin and Caroline Baux-Morin of Domaine Leonine in Saint-André-des-Albères, Jean-Sébastian Gioan of Domaine Potron Minet in Trouillas, Loïc Roure of Domaine du Possible in Jajakistan, Sylvain Respaut and Olivier Cros of La Cave Apicole in Montner and Michael and Céline Georget of Le Temps Retrouvé in Laroque-des-Albères. We see the various owners interacting with their staff, revealing a few trade secrets and sampling their own produce while socialising of an evening. 

As we see Krief and the Morins testing their wines during the fermentation process, they scoff at the idea that natural wine-making is the easy option, as there's much more to it than dumping grapes into a vat. The others chip in with observations about the trial and error nature of wine-making and the need to adapt to make sure each vintage work. An example occurs when the automatic press breaks down at La Cave Apicole and Respaut and Cros resort to treading their crop while waiting for the engineer to get the spares needed to repair their machinery. 

The Georgets use horses in their vineyard and Michael gets emotional when recalling his childhood living in a trailer, while Céline tries to explain to their two young children how they get large grapes into small bottles. Michael also describes how to produce cow horn manure in order to aid their organic methods. Yet Krief laments the fact that their wines are not always taken seriously by the cognoscenti, although Japanese importer Masaaki Tsukahara is very enthusiastic about the wines made by the Morins, as they go well with the fish dishes his clients serve. 

We drop into the Covered Market in Narbone to glean the opinion of some of the traders before heading to Béziers to meet Romain Henry Niess, who owns the Pas Comme les Autres restaurant. He is proud of bringing natural food and drink to his customers and Julien and Mélanie Privat of La Cranquette in Grussian and Florence Datessen from Le Brindezingue in Thiers also proclaim their support for the local growers. Those attending the Vinicircus Festival in Guipel are equally enthusiastic, with Emmanuel Chavasseux from Sausage Wizard in Saint-Romain Lachalm and Olivier Lomeli from the Chambre Noir bar in Paris claiming that natural wines are changing drinking habits across France. 

Justine Saint-Lo and Fleur Godart, the authors of the comic album Pur Jus enthuse about getting to know the growers personally and being able to gauge the wine from the personality of the producer. Olivia Mann and Jean-Hugues Bretin from Raisin #AppVinnaturel and journalist Antonin Iommi-Amunategui love the fact that the neo-viniculturalists are making wine because it's their passion and have left other occupations to follow their star. The latter makes clear that this isn't a hipster fad and notes that the rebels don't poison the soil like the major commercial labels, while Sébastien Leroy from the Sauvage restaurant in Paris says they have made wine fun again. 

Back in Latour-de-France, there's an open day and Jean-Louis Triboulet of Domaine Triboulet reveals that the local growers operate on a collective basis and are always ready to help each other out because they know how precarious the existence can be. Others concur and admit that they have known tough times and often struggled to keep their heads above water. But persistence and a game plan has enabled them to build sustainable businesses that more often break even than make a profit. 

Confirming this `all for one' mentality is a partnership day to help Manu Giocanti of Domaine Giocanti, who needs a helping hand after losing his father. Raymond Manchon from Bota Nostra recalls how his neighbours rallied round when he was poisoned by his pesticides and Édouard Lafitte of Domaine Le Bout de Monde and Alain Castex of Les Vins du Cabanon are among those to celebrate the communal aspect of their lifestyle, as they can always learn from one another and pick up tips about pruning or weeding that they can apply to their own domaines. They accept that oenologists like Jean-Pierre Mignot (who is seen lecturing) have made a valuable contribution, but suggests that nothing is more important to understanding how wines work than getting one's hands dirty.

Quoting his father, Christophe Barbier from Domaine Bouisset declares that you only get 40 cracks at making a good wine if you work from 20 to 60 and the chances are high that you will only succeed five or six times, with the rest being a mix of mediocre vintages and disasters. Krief jokes that you only discover a partner's faults when you start to live with them and wine-making is a similar journey of discover. Roure's ceramic artist partner Marie Matal agrees that it's a time-consuming occupation and wishes he was a bit better organised. However, he can do nothing about a piece of machinery breaking down on the slopes and has the resourcefulness to fix it. But every delay means time borrowed from some other part of the day. 

Respaut and Cros add some sulphur to the natural crop spray, but not all agree with using chemicals of any sort. They hope to be vigilant in removing potential threats like mildew and moths and the same goes for reacting to market trends. At the moment, they provide products the big growers can't, but they are aware that they will attempt to seize the sector if it proves sufficiently popular and profitable. As we see friends fishing in a mountain stream with their kids, it seems evident that they have succeeded in their ambition to reconnect with the land and create an authentic product.

All of which is grand. But Sauvard misses the opportunity to forge a bond between his audience and these affable pioneers, who represent just 3% of the 3000 wine growers in France. Gaël Astruc's images of the Pyreneean countryside are wonderfully evocative and there is much to learn about the methodology of a vinicultural revolution. But, while Sauvard uses pop-up graphics to explain the odd term, he essentially leaves non-aficionados to pick up what they can from the jargonese that's bandied around in a cavalier manner that was notably absent from Andrew Peat's similarly themed, Scotch: The Golden Dram (2018). 

It also doesn't help that Sauvard wants to include as many local vineyards as possible, as some contributors get markedly more screen time than others in editor Emilie Orsini's overly skittish mix. A closing title boasts that no sulphites or subsidies were employed in the making of this affectionate picture. But, having gone to the trouble of clearing the rights for the excellent songtrack, surely a little more of the precious budget might have been spent on the subtitles, as the unedged white captions are often impossible to read against the light backgrounds. Moreover, the remarks made during the final credit crawl aren't translated as all. Given that this is a documentary in which it's important that non-Francophonic viewers can understand what's being said, surely it wouldn't have represented too much of an artistic compromise to use legible lettering?

As John Lennon once eloquently put it, `Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans.' Doubtless, this lyric from `Beautiful Boy' occurred to Bettina Perut and Iván Osnovikoff while making Los Reyes, as their plan to shoot a documentary about the kids who congregate at the oldest skateboard park in the Chilean capital of Santiago took an unexpected turn when they came across a pair of inseparable street dogs, whose antics provided them with the perfect cover surreptitiously to coax their original targets into opening up about their lives on the wild audio track. 

Football and Chola own El Parque de los Reyes. The former is a reddish Shepherd cross with grey on his muzzle and a look of Oliver Hardyesque world-weariness as he watches his younger Black Labrador companion charge after every vehicle that dares cross her path. She's also a mean footballer and chases after a ball kicked across one of the shale basketball courts abutting the skate runs. Indeed, given half a chance, Chola will nose a ball to the end of one of the hollows and nudge it off to watch it roll down the slope. While being capable of living up to his name, Football is happy to watch, with a tennis ball or plastic bottle in his mouth. 

The pair clearly love the skaters and trust them so implicitly that they doze in the shade provided by the ramps in the knowledge that they won't crash into them. Moreover, they live off the packed lunches the kids bring with them, with Chola sitting to attention while waiting for a half-eaten sandwich to be tossed her way. Nearby, a couple of unseen lads roll a joint, while one describes an argument with his father over whether he's entitled to breakfast after getting up late. Later, as Chola and Football sleep together on the floodlit grass, a youth reveals that his grandmother threw him out of the house for spitting on his brother. He was shocked that she called him a dog and his pals roar with laughter at the fact that an old lady could know so many curse words. Another kid tells his buddy that he wants to open a snack bar and hopes they legalise cannabis so that he can sell treats and joints to the skaters. 

Having barked at a couple of mounted policemen, Chola steals a burst ball from the unconcerned Football's jaws and plonks herself down on the edge of a crater to wait for someone to entertain her. When the skaters go weaving past, she perks up and pads across the concrete to keep up with them, as if she was one of the gang. Nothing gets her attention more than a passing biker or cyclist, however, as she gallops after them with a woofed warning about trespassing on her turf. 

When a new dog bounds up with a tennis ball, Chola and Football wander over to watch admiringly. The former winds up with the ball, of course, while Football makes do with half a lemon. He trots over to fetch the tennis ball when Chola drops it. But he is just as content with plastic bottles, tin cans and long twigs, which he clamps between his teeth as though he was about to cross Niagara Falls on a tightrope. Football is also prone to lying under the water sprinklers on the grass verges, although he charges over in solidarity whenever Chola barks. Moreover, he also gets into a tizzy when she drops the yellow tennis ball over the lip of a deep bowl with a skeleton tagged on the floor. 

Some lads complain about the heat and mock the one who frets about getting `skinny cancer'. Another talks about the Inca-Cola on sale at a nearby Peruvian restaurant, while a third counts the 21 tattoos on his body. Football and Chola lounge around, with a stone and the tennis ball for company. They seem to notice the camera and shoot doe-eyed expressions into the lens. But they don't like downtime and hate rainy days, when there's nobody to play with and they sit around getting wet. When some tweenagers do turn up, however, the pair leap into action and charge around the rim of the crater in the hope that someone will throw their ball. Bounding through the puddles, they have a lovely time until the kids drift off and Chola is left to nudge the ball down the slope and look after them in an effort to remind them of the fun they could all be having together. 

Waking on a sunny morning, Football lumbers off with the tennis ball to lie on the grass, while Chola remains in the warm sun. Some boys banter about opening a kiosk to sell cakes and noodles laced with cannabis, while another relates how he had got stoned on his way to school and spent the whole day in a stupor until the bell went for home time. Unconcerned, Chola and Football snooze in the sun. The former rouses herself to howl in harmony with a passing siren before returning to her slumbers with the ball lodged in her mouth and a fly crawling over one of her filed-down fang. 

Workmen place a couple of wooden kennels at the edge of the park, but the dogs continue to flop on the concrete and watch the passing parade. They sprawl across the pathway and only move when Football decides he'd like a bit more shade. Chola also springs into action when two men cycle past leading a pair of roped mules. She also does a bit of digging in some newly laid soil, while Football relieves himself against a workman's sack. Exhausted by their exertions, the doggy duo settle down for 40 winks, while we listen to a kid describing how he got mugged by a cop. We also hear an argument caused by one lad badmouthing another's mother. Football and Chola appear to listen with their snouts resting on the lip of a crater, with the former breaking into a bark when the bottle falls out of his mouth and rolls down the slope. He also gets agitated when Chola hogs the tennis ball. 

Otherwise, nothing seems to bother these contented canine hobos, as they watch some park keepers fishing rubbish out of the pond. Chola is delighted to see the mules making the return journey, but she's less enamoured by the sight of Football playing with another dog during a rowdy night-time session at Los Reyes. Having rejected the advances of a frisky white poodle, she seems affronted that her friend should find a submissive sandy pooch so fascinating. However, they soon make up and slump down beside each other, as the noise dies down and the cars continue to rumble past on the busy road adjoining the park. 

The next morning, all three dogs charge around after a white plastic buoy that some lads are kicking around. Football then tries to get a bit too up close and personal with the newcomer, but it's Chola who winds up in the doghouse during a downpour. However, Football eventually has the sense to come in out of the rain and he peers through the opening at a bird pecking on the grass. Another torrential day follows and, with nobody around to skate, Chola tries to pass the time by picking an amorous fight with a sandbag. As night falls, Football takes shelter under a palm tree, while Chola seeks refuge in the larger kennel.

The pair perch on the rim of the deepest bowl and look down as someone fishes a skateboard out of a puddle. On the soundtrack, a lad describes how he was ambushed at gunpoint while selling drugs and he laments that it's becoming impossible to be honestly dishonest. He talks about moving out, but his pal tells him he wouldn't be welcome anywhere else, as his face would betray his roots. Besides, he's just as crooked as anyone else, so he can hardly complain. 

Dry weather returns and Football celebrates by unearthing a lump of stone. He scrabbles at it with his paws before trying to chew it. Barking hoarsely, he carries it over to show Chola, who is sleeping with her tennis ball. She looks back to see what he's brought, but is unimpressed and picks up her ball and slowly walks away. Undaunted, the increasingly arthritic Football follows and watches as his companion rolls on her back, with her legs akimbo and the ball fixed in her mouth. While we hear some youths cursing the mess that pills have made of their lives, some workmen erect a temporary stand for a sponsored skating event. The bowls are whitewashed and Football and Chola are placed the other side of a metal fence. When the tennis ball rolls under the railings, the former gets into a right state trying to squeeze through to recover the mud-caked sphere that means everything to the pair of them. 

As some kids debate the merits of getting a proper job, Football finds another slab of stone to fuss over. Both dogs are covered in flies, but they endure the intrusive indignity, although some rather arch cross-cutting makes it look as though Chola is barking at the flies that have drawn blood at the tip of Football's ear, when she is really trying to get someone to retrieve her ball from the bottom of a dip. Extreme close-ups show a fly excreting on his cracked paw pad and a small droplet of blood oozes out like a red balloon. 

Suddenly, Chola is alone and she wanders around the park searching for her soulmate. She visits all of the old familiar places, but there's no sign of Football and she howls plaintively, as the skaters glide past her without seeming to notice she's there. As Christmas comes, we hear a girl telling her mates over the phone that they are going to be godparents because she's four months pregnant. Chola mooches around the park, but the fun has gone out of everything. Nocturnal shots suggest that Football is watching over her before a closing captions dedicate the film to the memory of `a unique and exemplary dog' and reassure us that Chola is still living a free and happy life with her skater pals. 

Doubtless, some will want to know why the film-makers didn't seek veterinary assistance for Football once they knew he was suffering. But such is the quirky code of the documentarist. And, after all, shouldn't the real question be, why didn't they intervene to help kids living in a constant state of hardship, inebriation, segregation and risk? Apparently, Perut and Osnovikoff had tried to get the teenagers to talk on camera, but they kept clamming up. However, they were happy to wear microphones on the proviso that the focus remained firmly on Football and Chola and they appeared only as blurs and shadows in the background. It proved a beneficial trade-off, as the blend of candid disclosure and canine delightfulness makes this is one of the most compelling pictures that Dochouse has shown in some time. 

In many ways, it resembles Ceyda Torun's Kedi (2016), which presented a cat's eye view of everyday life in various neighbourhoods of Istanbul. Apart from a couple of cornball instances, the editor-directors have successfully avoided anthropomorphising Chola and Football, whose personalities shine through, as they take whatever life and the elements can throw at them - and, despite their sedentary existence, they rarely take things lying down. Pablo Valdes's camerawork is quite remarkable, as is Osnovikoff's sound recording, with the barks, pants and whines bound to haunt audiences for days after the screening. However, the lesson that should linger is how little is actually needed for a fulfilling life.