Marek appears to practice a sub-Svankmajerian brand of stop-motion surrealism, of some curiosity value but essentially lacking both the master's formal charm and his thematic accessibility. Here a wheelbarrow and tools are led out of Hell (a room of Sissyphian randomness) by the Tutor in Fear - an empty pair of boots - to dig holes around town, before the boots take their leave on a pair of skis. 'Somewhere that senile old man is making an omelette from plaster eggs which seem to hide inside a finger pointing at the Moon.' Ain't that the truth?
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