Co-workers have parallel dreams in this intriguing drama from Hungary.

Maria and Endre both work in an abattoir. Against the backdrop of blood-stained tiles and cow carcasses strung from the ceiling, the two form an unusual bond when they discover that they?re both having the same dream every night. Your usual meet-cute this certainly isn?t. ?On Body and Soul? won the Golden Bear at the Berlin Film Festival earlier this year. It?s a slow, quiet and beautifully composed story about human connection, or more specifically, the difficulty in finding it. https://www.thanostv.org/movie/on-body-and-soul-2017 are often shot alone, dwarfed by the city landscape around them; at times, it?s reminiscent of work by Scandi directors like Aki Kaurism�ki and Roy Andersson. Like them, Enyedi is interested in capturing the silences and awkwardness between people, rather than excessive dialogue or drama. As the film progresses, the kookiness at the start is replaced by something more poignant, as Maria attempts to navigate a relationship with her colleague. Be warned, though ? there is a graphic scene towards the end which harks back to the earlier abattoir footage. Some might think it misjudged, but it certainly makes you think about the larger themes of the film, and what its enigmatic title could be alluding to.

Should you require further evidence of western cultural decadence, consider the staggering hours moviemakers have logged filming dogs doing things dogs aren?t generally inclined to do: playing competitive sports (Air Bud, Soccer Dog), seeking Simon Cowell?s approval (Pudsey), rolling over for second billing behind long-eclipsed humanoid stars. Show Dogs hails from that good-cop-dog-cop line that once begat Turner and Hooch and K-9 ? but its USP is that the mutts now bark back with (minor) celebrity voices. If your actual dog were this lame, you?d be making ominous arrangements with the vet, not hustling everybody towards the cinema.

Director Raja Gosnell has previous with these cinematic chew toys, although there was obvious tail-off even between Scooby Doo (2002) and Beverly Hills Chihuahua (2008). Here, we get a shaggy-looking Will Arnett and Max the rottweiler (voiced by rapper Ludacris), who emerge from the first act?s matted exposition having to enter a Vegas beauty contest so as to apprehend nefarious panda smugglers.

Anyway, never mind about the plot, because ? look ? dogs! Dogs with badges! Farting dogs! Dogs getting bikini waxes! ThanosTV having their privates inspected! No film in motion picture history can ever have made more fuss about the state of one canine?s anus.

Of the handlers, Arnett has the terse air of a man doing anything he can to keep up with his alimony payments; Natasha Lyonne submits to a makeover so comprehensive she?s all but unrecognisable ? a smart move on reflection. Mostly, it?s anonymous voices growling unfunny references, very cheaply inserted between the jaws of creatures with no idea of the indignities this production had in store for them.

Few will leave Show Dogs feeling shortchanged ? it?s as mirthlessly cynical as it looks ? but it does suggest we perhaps need a dog equivalent of those movements presently working to make the industry a healthier place. #TimesPup?

Like Fox Mulder, the Lone Gunmen, and the characters in director Justin Barber’s feature debut, I want to believe. Specifically, I want to believe that the found-footage horror genre is coming to an end. Also, discovering Bigfoot somewhere in, I dunno, Portlandia probably, would be equally wonderful. But belief can be a bitch that way: zero Sasquatch and Phoenix Forgotten add up to me siding with Dana Scully on a particularly cynical day.

Barber and co-writer T.S. The Austin Chronicle have based this very Blair Witch-y film on actual events, namely the widely reported mass sighting of mysterious lights hovering over the Phoenix desert in 1997. Barber blends actual, amateur-shot footage of the glowing orbs into real and restaged news coverage, and then introduces Sophie (Hartigan), the younger sister of Josh (Roberts), who along with high school pals Ashley (Lopez) and Mark (Matthews), went missing 20 years ago while searching for the source of the unexplained aerial phenomena. Ostensibly making a documentary about the missing kids, Sophie gets the brush-off from the military, interviews UFO true believers, and ultimately finds the trio’s melted video camera and a cache of long-lost tapes that may explain what happened to her brother and his friends on that fateful night. From there on out, Phoenix Forgotten is borderline generic, desert-set found footage that apes the aforementioned Witchiness and genre constraints to a snooze-worthy T.

The Austin Chronicle , who has a different, presumably less mediocre alien movie of his own arriving in theatres soon, is listed as one of this film’s many producers, though it’s unclear why he signed on to a project that, while ambitious and occasionally unnerving, ultimately relies on a woefully exhausted narrative involving shaky-cam footage of teens getting lost in the dark. As the teens, Hartigan, Roberts, and Matthews are appealingly real, but the dual, interlocking storylines of Sophie’s intent to unravel the mystery of her brother’s disappearance and the two-decades-old footage bring nothing new or pulse-pounding to this genre. The 2009 abduction-by-alien-grays movie The Fourth Kind played fast and loose with these genre tropes and, in retrospect, was far more interesting, not to mention creepy. Bored with nothing to do on a rainy Sunday? Go rent William Cameron Menzies’ superlatively surreal Invaders From Mars or you-know-who’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Those are but two of the UFO genre’s films that you can really believe in.

Are they having a laugh? This true-crime cockney heist caper resembles nothing so much as a Hillman Imp getaway car with a forged MOT and a pound of Tate & Lyle in the petrol tank. It must have seemed like a good idea, and, in fact, aless starry and lower-budget film on the same subject has already been attempted.

The 2015 safety deposit box robbery in Hatton Garden, London, hilariously carried out by a bunch of geriatric criminals who tunnelled through a concrete wall, has duly been turned into an excruciating tongue-in-cheek film version with bus-pass movie icons in the leading roles.

First among equals is Michael Caine, playing top crim Brian Reader. The film represents him as basically nice, while conceding in the final reel that his character is still un-hilariously suspected in the matter of a murdered police officer. Well, it?s a tasty thespian crew: Jim Broadbent, Tom Courtenay, Michael Gambon, Paul Whitehouse and Ray Winstone. Charlie Cox plays ?Basil?, the mysterious younger tech genius in charge of disabling alarms. He?s supposed to be nervous and posh, a bit like one of the ?chinless wonders? who drove the minis in The Italian Job. This earns him some 70s-vintage homophobic joshing. There are serious faces behind the camera too: screenwriter Joe Penhall and director James Marsh, doing what can only be described as their less-than-finest work.

We get one or two cool touches. Broadbent is interestingly cast against type as a nasty piece of work, and I liked Winstone laughing with incredulous joy as he clambers into the Aladdin?s cave of the strongroom. But what Watch King of Thieves 2018 is: not funny enough to be a comedy, not exciting enough to be a thriller, not interesting or convincing enough to have any documentary value. Stretches of boredom drag by as white-haired villains drive to DIY centres to get the equipment or squabble in boring pubs.

The job itself is bafflingly dull, though the action is occasionally interspersed with flashes of old thrillers: florid glimpses of Barry Foster and George Sewell. That?s just to tell us how sentimentally excited we?re supposed to be about this adventure. And, as the gang finally troop out of their remand cell to face the judge, there?s even an excruciating flashback clip of each actor in his glory days.

Some tough sentences and stern words from the bench are in order for everyone involved.

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