A week into the World Cup and British film distributors are still shying away from releasing anything whose core constituency is currently preoccupied with qualification for the second phase. So, the schedule is packed with oldies and curios that might just appeal to those prepared to venture out in search of screens not showing the footie.

The ICA in London, for example, is showing 10th District Court: Moments of Trial, whose fascination is scarcely revealed by its title. Having already explored the French legal system in Caught in the Act (1994), documentarist- photographer Raymond Depardon secured unprecedented access to a Parisian courthouse for this compelling collection of cases. None of the misdemeanours is particularly remarkable, but each provides a little human drama, which generates its own humour, heartache and suspense, as the defendants plead mitigation and Judge Michle Bernard-Requin delivers her carefully considered verdicts. Concentrating on the contrasting confusion, contempt and complacency of the accused, Depardon treats drunk driver, drug dealer, phone pest and pickpocket with equanimity, although he can't resist exposing the inadequacies of some of the advocates, whose scorn for and prejudice against some of the defendents is excruciatingly obvious. Consequently, it gradually becomes apparent that France much like Britain is a society riven with class, racial and gender tensions.

The law resorts to less honorable tactics in Lobo, Miguel Courtois's fact-based thriller about the infiltration of the Basque separatist group, ETA, in the 1970s. But while this steady survey provides a detailed insight into the operation of a terrorist cell, it's very much a piece of film-making by timetable which makes its sudden leaps in chronology so disconcerting and damaging. Eduardo Noriega turns in a solid performance, as the stooge on the tail of hard-line commander Patrick Bruel. But his affair with trusted insider Melanie Doutey rarely rings true and too little time is devoted to his discussion of the politics of the Euska Herria with idealogue Jorge Sanz. His relationship with secret service handler Jos Coronado is much more intriguing, however, especially as the flashbacking story begins to come full circle.

The mid-seventies also saw the release of Michelangelo Antonioni's The Passenger, which is on a limited re-issue. This forgotten oddity forms a loose quest trilogy with L'Avventura (1960) and Blow-Up (1966). But while its predecessors concern respective searches for a missing girl and a corpse that might never have been, this anti-thriller centres on a man who assumes the identity of a stranger in a doomed bid to find himself. The fact that he fails so meekly is conveyed in a closing shot of famed ingenuity and terrifying bleakness, as it confirms the utter futility of existence even someone else's. Reminding you of the fine actor he once was, Jack Nicholson exudes ennui as the globetrotting reporter posing as a dead arms dealer, while Maria Schneider emerges from her Last Tango shadow, as the fellow traveller who is both moved and intrigued by his desperate deception.

Even more cheerless, but in a curiously amusing way, is Fruit Chan's tenement horror Dumplings. Expanded from his 37-minute contribution to the portmanteau picture Three, this deliciously dark satire manages to poke fun at both Hong Kong and Chinese mores, while weaving a sinister story of diet, deception and death. In addition to suggesting that the entrepot has been corrupted by the base practices of the mainland, Chan also uses retired soap actress Miriam Yeung's pathetic quest for eternal youth to show how the perpetual colony has learned how to bite back since 1997. Moreover, he also keeps the enigmatic subplots bubbling before delivering a satisfyingly nasty denouement. In her first dramatic role, Yeung (a major comedy star) brings plenty of deadpan nous to her humiliating visits to the creepy apartment of singer-turned-medicine-woman Bai Ling, whose rejuvenating delicacies also entice Yeung's entrepreneurial husband, Tony Leung Kar-fai, to over-indulge in an increasingly desperate bid to satisfy his demanding mistress. But, for all its spice, this tempting, but insubstantial treat leaves you wanting more.