Áno, šéfe!

The Emperor of a European country demands new clothes to wear every day, in fact sometimes several times a day. He imposes a heavy tax on the poor citizens to pay for his vanity. An itinerant man and boy come to the capital city and see the injustice, and make friends, but they soon have to flee. They return disguised as Arab tailors, and offer to make the Emperor a new suit of clothes. But only the wise will be able to see it; fools, or those unfit for their public office, will not see anything. The Emperor orders the suit made, and much money is needed to purchase the raw materials. Eventually the suit is ready, and the Emperor and his officials pretend that they can see a wonderful outfit; will anyone prick the bubble of the illusion?

Stage mime Antoine Moreau is compelled by the Gestapo to put on a performance for the children of Terezin, a "model" concentration camp, to convince the Red Cross observers that the camp is truly what it seems. Reluctant at first, Moreau slowly learns the true nature of the camp, including the meaning of the "transports" on which people leave. With a world-class orchestra (made up of people interned in the camp) and a cast of children, Moreau stages a show to end all shows.

A baleful limping man walks through Prague. He is Asmodeus (Juraj Herz), the fiend of lustfulness, entertaining himself by putting together by magic couples of lovers. He only fails at the swimming pool. Zuzana (Jana Sulcová), the good-looking blonde, ignores the men whom the devil foists off onto her. She loves Honza (Václav Neckár) and the boy shares her feelings. The fiend is annoyed by the couple and tries to provoke a row. He sends heavy rain to force them into a hotel and then warns Zuzana's father by phone, but the young lovers manage to get out in time. Then the obstinate Asmodeus takes Honza in his sleep to the Institute for Emotional Disorders, where he shows him the ugly sides of love - hysteria, voyeurism, fetishism, suicide attempts...

Animation of recently discovered floor drawings on the wall of the former ghetto, combined with a reference to the opera Brundibár, which was supposed to become proof to the world of the wonderful lives of imprisoned children.