徐相宜和文东宇是一对在一起十年的模范情侣，然而，徐相宜的身上却背负着和京都世家凌家的婚约，这让她陷入了深深的愁苦之中。在她万分苦恼之际，徐相宁主动提出愿意帮忙替嫁，这让徐相宜满心感激。她立刻兴冲冲地去找文东宇分享这个好消息，却发现文东宇喝得烂醉如泥。文东宇不仅让徐相宜喝酒，还心怀叵测，原来他早已听说徐相宜要和凌家订婚，便在徐相宜的酒杯中下药，企图拍下视频以此威胁徐相宜继续给自己的电影投钱。然而阴差阳错，徐相宜误打误撞地和凌烨上了床，清醒后的她惊慌失措地逃跑。

《爱的契约》讲述了美丽、干练、孝顺的汽车销售经理钱菲菲，为满足父亲遗愿，在身体和财产双重透支的情况下，筹备着“贵族式婚礼”，然而突如其来的车祸…

艾勤奋是一个穷得叮当响的淘宝店主，为了给妹妹凑齐学费，将祖传的花瓶抵押给朋友胡光子，然后载着一车货物到郊区清仓甩卖，却在半路将钱霏霏撞成了重伤。钱霏霏是4s店的销售经理，女强人，未婚夫周展名借她的钱炒股，令本来就因筹备婚礼而拮据不堪的钱霏霏捉襟见肘。幸好一桩大生意即将敲定，合约签订就会拿到高额提成，但就在前往郊区的途中，发生了车祸……

事业有成的男主角彦彬被诊断出不治之症，突如其来的噩耗让他对自己的人生产生了怀疑，一场酒局后，彦彬发现自己和兄弟莫名身处渺无人烟的荒原，在赶回手术台路上发生的一系列奇葩爆笑的故事。

事业有成的男主角彦彬被诊断出不治之症，突如其来的噩耗让他对自己的人生产生了怀疑，一场酒局后，彦彬发现自己和兄弟莫名身处渺无人烟的荒原，在赶回手…

在原本富商沈家与军阀聂家联姻的喜庆日子里，沈家大小姐沈青夏（牛欣欣 饰）却突然遭遇不幸，羞愤离世。为了报仇，沈家丫鬟小蝶（柯颖 饰）决定扮成千金，嫁给聂家的少帅聂祯（文渊 饰）。然而，当小蝶发现加害者嫌疑指向聂祯时，情况变得扑朔迷离，复仇行动变得更加复杂。随着情节的发展，原本被认为是恶人的聂祯展现出意想不到的善良一面，而曾经的敌人却可能隐藏着更深的黑暗。在这个故事中，爱恨情仇交织在一起，将原本简单的复仇计划推向了更加扑朔迷离的境地。 　　故事中的角色们开始意识到，他们所经历的种种事件并非简单的对错之辨，而是因果关系的错综复杂。随着情感的深化和人物关系的变化，他们的信仰、承诺和真爱也逐渐得到了凝练和升华。这个故事探讨了人性的复杂性和情感的变迁，展现了爱恨情仇的交织与纠缠，在追寻真相的过程中，每个角色都面临着自己的抉择和挑战。

在原本富商沈家与军阀聂家联姻的喜庆日子里，沈家大小姐沈青夏（牛欣欣 饰）却突然遭遇不幸，羞愤离世。为了报仇，沈家丫鬟小蝶（柯颖 饰）决定扮成千金，嫁给聂家的少帅聂祯（文渊 饰）。然而，当小蝶发现加害者嫌疑指向聂祯时，情况变得扑朔迷离，复仇行动变得更加复杂。随着情节的发展，原本被认为是恶人的聂祯展现出意想不到的善良一面，而曾经的敌人却可能隐藏着更深的黑暗。在这个故事中，爱恨情仇交织在一起，将原本简单的复仇计划推向了更加扑朔迷离的境地。 　　故事中的角色们开始意识到，他们所经历的种种事件并非简单的对错之辨，而是因果关系的错综复杂。随着情感的深化和人物关系的变化，他们的信仰、承诺和真爱也逐渐得到了凝练和升华。这个故事探讨了人性的复杂性和情感的变迁，展现了爱恨情仇的交织与纠缠，在追寻真相的过程中，每个角色都面临着自己的抉择和挑战。

"It’s kind-of small town and big boredom…” is the sharp judgment that a character in Jozef Zachar’s film, Contract With the Devil, passes on any Slovak town (including its capital city). At the point when storyline examines and explains the events that have already taken place, this comment reveals the main theme of the film, namely the forms of our boredom, the protagonists of our boredom, and what to do about our boredom. It is a theme that many viewers by the end of the 1960s appreciated as interesting, provocative, or daring. However, Zachar’s film certainly does not mark a breakthrough in filmic resolution of the theme. More than anything else, this trifle of a comedy—popular with viewers—is an interesting and emblematic battlefield of carelessly wasted opportunities. It holds viewers’ attention through a series of mere hints at insubordination to the societal constraints imposed or petrified by Communism. But the unfinished, careless filmic execution of those hints shows in high definition, so to say, the limits of many filmmakers’ thinking during the precious period of relaxed Communism in the 1960s. 　　The storyline is mundane, or as Pavel Branko characterized it, “a prurient story calculated for commercial success. [1] ” It begins with the discovery by high-school officials that five female students left erotic photos (presumably theirs) in a classroom, along with a contract with the devil that they would lose their virginity before graduation. Their parents’ reactions range from “Our Eva has the best upbringing, austere and Christian… and Communist!” to “I used to have a body like this, too!” The parents try to annul the contract with the devil by their own avowal to supervise and discipline their offspring more severely. But the girls run away from the gynecological exam that was to confirm their virginity, and from their model homes and school. What follows is a series of episodes of their “courageous,” hopeful, as well as embarrassing attempts to breech the interdiction imposed by the two basic educational institutions—school and family. 　　The film’s wasted potential is most palpable in two scenes that strive to assault the viewers’ presumed, unprincipled, small-town provincialism, summed up in the phrase “don’t get involved and you’ll be fine.” These scenes are “counterattacks” against the operation of schools and families. The first scene is a variation on the device of a film-within-a-film: a family screens their “morally uplifting” 16-mm home movie for Marcela, one of the girls. The father operates the small gadget, the family projector, hoping to affirm the workings of the basic societal contraption, the family. However his projector, just like his family, keeps breaking off. 　　The second scene is the party at the home of the son of “big-league parents,” where Emma, another of the girls, performs a striptease. According to The History of Slovak Film, at that time “formerly quite prudish filmmaking, which, of course, tabooed a naked female body in the name of Communist—and Catholic—norms, now incorporated striptease and love scenes that were not exactly copied from a handbook of appropriate behavior.”[2] But the erotic charge of the scene is not the only issue. The interesting, tension-creating polarization between the characters (abandon versus corruption), the use of characteristic dialogue, and the overall, vividly acted “playfulness”—all of these contain the potential for a better film. The daring culmination of the scene is not the image of a naked student, but the heretical burning of a cross in a glass of cognac that is set on fire. 　　The paradoxical reception of Contract with the Devil at the time of its release is often forgotten. While Juraj Jakubisko’s Crucial Years (also known as Christ’s Years; Kristove roky, 1967), released in the same year, was met with acclaim by reviewers and has remained a common topic in works on Slovak cinema, at the same time its popular reception was lukewarm, attendance low, and some viewers even criticized it as immoral. By comparison, Contract with the Devil generated good ticket sales. On the one hand, this was indicative of the level of the relaxation of communism in 1967, but also, on the other, of the degree to which Contract with the Devil was behind the times: the film, which clearly intended to offend what it saw as ossified prudish morality, actually received praise from Ctibor Štítnický, the communist-appointed Director of the Koliba studios, as a “decent” film, both in terms of its commercial success and its content. [3] Paradoxically then, Contract with the Devil, conceived as a piercing thematic breakthrough, merely became a popular entertainment film by the time of its release due to the quick pace of political changes in the country, and it did not contain enough artistry to sustain a reputation among cinéastes afterwards.

"It’s kind-of small town and big boredom…” is the sharp judgment that a character in Jozef Zachar’s film, Contract With the Devil, passes on any Slovak town (including its capital city). At the point when storyline examines and explains the events that have already taken place, this comment reveals the main theme of the film, namely the forms of our boredom, the protagonists of our boredom, and what to do about our boredom. It is a theme that many viewers by the end of the 1960s appreciated as interesting, provocative, or daring. However, Zachar’s film certainly does not mark a breakthrough in filmic resolution of the theme. More than anything else, this trifle of a comedy—popular with viewers—is an interesting and emblematic battlefield of carelessly wasted opportunities. It holds viewers’ attention through a series of mere hints at insubordination to the societal constraints imposed or petrified by Communism. But the unfinished, careless filmic execution of those hints shows in high definition, so to say, the limits of many filmmakers’ thinking during the precious period of relaxed Communism in the 1960s. 　　The storyline is mundane, or as Pavel Branko characterized it, “a prurient story calculated for commercial success. [1] ” It begins with the discovery by high-school officials that five female students left erotic photos (presumably theirs) in a classroom, along with a contract with the devil that they would lose their virginity before graduation. Their parents’ reactions range from “Our Eva has the best upbringing, austere and Christian… and Communist!” to “I used to have a body like this, too!” The parents try to annul the contract with the devil by their own avowal to supervise and discipline their offspring more severely. But the girls run away from the gynecological exam that was to confirm their virginity, and from their model homes and school. What follows is a series of episodes of their “courageous,” hopeful, as well as embarrassing attempts to breech the interdiction imposed by the two basic educational institutions—school and family. 　　The film’s wasted potential is most palpable in two scenes that strive to assault the viewers’ presumed, unprincipled, small-town provincialism, summed up in the phrase “don’t get involved and you’ll be fine.” These scenes are “counterattacks” against the operation of schools and families. The first scene is a variation on the device of a film-within-a-film: a family screens their “morally uplifting” 16-mm home movie for Marcela, one of the girls. The father operates the small gadget, the family projector, hoping to affirm the workings of the basic societal contraption, the family. However his projector, just like his family, keeps breaking off. 　　The second scene is the party at the home of the son of “big-league parents,” where Emma, another of the girls, performs a striptease. According to The History of Slovak Film, at that time “formerly quite prudish filmmaking, which, of course, tabooed a naked female body in the name of Communist—and Catholic—norms, now incorporated striptease and love scenes that were not exactly copied from a handbook of appropriate behavior.”[2] But the erotic charge of the scene is not the only issue. The interesting, tension-creating polarization between the characters (abandon versus corruption), the use of characteristic dialogue, and the overall, vividly acted “playfulness”—all of these contain the potential for a better film. The daring culmination of the scene is not the image of a naked student, but the heretical burning of a cross in a glass of cognac that is set on fire. 　　The paradoxical reception of Contract with the Devil at the time of its release is often forgotten. While Juraj Jakubisko’s Crucial Years (also known as Christ’s Years; Kristove roky, 1967), released in the same year, was met with acclaim by reviewers and has remained a common topic in works on Slovak cinema, at the same time its popular reception was lukewarm, attendance low, and some viewers even criticized it as immoral. By comparison, Contract with the Devil generated good ticket sales. On the one hand, this was indicative of the level of the relaxation of communism in 1967, but also, on the other, of the degree to which Contract with the Devil was behind the times: the film, which clearly intended to offend what it saw as ossified prudish morality, actually received praise from Ctibor Štítnický, the communist-appointed Director of the Koliba studios, as a “decent” film, both in terms of its commercial success and its content. [3] Paradoxically then, Contract with the Devil, conceived as a piercing thematic breakthrough, merely became a popular entertainment film by the time of its release due to the quick pace of political changes in the country, and it did not contain enough artistry to sustain a reputation among cinéastes afterwards.