Let's draw near our ear conches and eavesdrop on the taffeta sea rustling like nightly rodents in our thought. Let loose the crinoline of waves and make it noose our pinnae in a pining knot. We'll sue selenographers for naming dry basaltic lunar plains with water moods we've noticed at each other in moments of such pious auscultation: the Sea of Crises, Nectar, Edge or Islands; the Lake of Softness, Death, Winter or
Figures of absolute refinement animated with absolute delicacy. As such, very little of the coarse, rustic humour of the original play is kept, but Trnka does a awe-inspiring job of translating the poetic language into exquisitely felt images. Warm, witty and human. A film of quiet, but deep beauty.