The future communist journalist Julius Fučík had a stimulating childhood and youth in a working-class environment, when his moral maturity was already showing. The authors of the film recall that the young Julek was a star of the suburban operetta scene, and in three episodes they depict him both in his early childhood and already at the gymnasium, when the outbreak of the World War shaped his determination.

Mr Jiš managed to give his first script at Barrandov. Already in the preparatory phase, he discovers with horror that the filmmakers have completely bypassed his intention - instead of a probe into the life of a contemporary village, they are preparing a spectacular musical show, which they are convinced will be a hit with the audience. The very first shots speak volumes. An elegiac arrives in the village of Lipovec and is greeted with singing and dancing by all the local officials and ordinary citizens, as this coveted expert is to help them increase their hectare yields with his progressive methods. The filming continues in a similar vein, and the newly minted screenwriter can't help but wonder...

Deputy of cartography enterprise Mr. Ciruvka tries to seduce the colleague's assistant to destabilize his confident in a run for the director's chair. But things can go wrong.

A young man from a poor proletarian family successfully graduates from university, meets a girl who grew up in an orphanage - and surprises his surroundings, greedy relatives and a friend from a rich bourgeois family, by refusing any benefits. He regularly visits his parents to help them build their house, trying to act honestly at all times.

In 1976, the Czech New Wave philosopher and director Evald Schorm came to the Na zábradlí Theatre. He stayed there for twelve years, until his death. He raised a generation of actors who were aware of their own personalities. In The Brothers Karamazov, the then compact acting ensemble performed in full force on stage. Schorm created from ban to ban (Hamlet, Macbeth, The Brothers Karamazov, Marathon) and in front of Zábradlí, there were queues for tickets in double rows all the way to the Vltava embankment: when the subscription began, people slept outside from midnight until ten in the morning, when the box office opened, in sleeping bags, they brought fishing chairs to the theater. A ticket to Zábradlí was more valuable than Tuzex vouchers...