Life of a Russian doctor/poet who, although married, falls for a political activist's wife and experiences hardships during the Bolshevik Revolution

A gripping true crime yarn, a juicy slice of overheated New York atmosphere and a splendid showcase for its young actors, Dog Day Afternoon is a minor classic of the 1970s. The opening montage of New York street life (set to Elton John's lazy "Amoreena") establishes the oppressive mood of a scorching afternoon in the city with such immediacy that you can almost smell the garbage baking in the sun and the water from the hydrants evaporating from the sizzling pavement. Al Pacino plays Sonny, who, along with his rather slow-witted accomplice Sal (John Cazale, familiar as Pacino's Godfather brother Fredo), holds hostages after a botched a bank robbery. Sonny finds himself transformed into a rebel celebrity when his standoff with police (including lead negotiator Charles Durning) is covered live on local television. The movie doesn't appear to be about anything in particular, but it really conveys the feel of wild and unpredictable events unfolding before your eyes, and the whole picture is so convincing and involving that you're glued to the screen. An Oscar winner for original screenplay, Dog Day Afternoon was also nominated for best picture, actor, supporting actor (Chris Sarandon, as a surprise figure from Sonny's past), editing, and director (Sidney Lumet of Serpico, Prince of the City, The Verdict and Running on Empty). --Jim Emerson

If your idea of Austrians is of cheerful folk cavorting about mountains or relaxing in old-world coffee-shops, Dog Days will come as quite a shock. Set amid the residential streets and shopping precincts of a charmless, sterile southern suburb of Vienna, documentary-maker Ulrich Seidl's first feature revels in the ugliness, both physical and moral, of his characters. None of these are people you'd want to spend time with: in fact most of them you'd go several miles out of your way to avoid, which perhaps accounts for the strangely perverse fascination there is about watching them.

Dog Days--it takes place, as you might guess, during a sticky, sweltering July heatwave that improves tempers not one bit--comes on rather like a low-rent version of Robert Altman's Short Cuts. We meet a dozen or so main characters, all of whom gradually come to impact on each other's lives in various ways. Among them, a girl with a psychotically jealous boyfriend; an elderly man who obsessively stockpiles groceries, first weighing them to check for the least hint of short measure; an estranged couple still sharing a house, where the wife entertains her lovers under her husband's morose gaze; a middle-aged schoolteacher whose abusive lover invites lowlifes to join in humiliating her; a no-hoper salesman of security systems; and the world's most excruciatingly irritating hitch-hiker.

There's a dark humour at work here; after a while the sheer bleakness and collective vindictiveness become wincingly funny. Seidl's disenchanted view of his compatriots, and his contempt for their vaunted gemütlichkeit, is epitomised by his image of a man forced to sing the Austrian national anthem ("A nation blessed by its sense of beauty") stark naked with a lighted candle up his backside. To cap it all, he can't remember the words. --Philip Kemp

A troop of British soldiers on operations in the Scottish Highlands have more than enough to worry about since England is set to play Germany in a World Cup qualifier. When they discover the remains of a previous unit they realise they're in trouble. Holed-up in an old farmhouse they find themselves surrounded by the occupants... blood thirsty werewolves...