故事从一个女孩子的回忆开始，她讲述自己爸爸妈妈的故事——Su-hyun跟外科医生Sun-young是一对情侣，一天Su-hyun梦到一个神秘的地方，燃烧的火焰中出现一张白衣女子的脸，他正在思索一张床迎面掉落……第二天他居然看到了梦里的地方，看到了一张银杏树床。Su-hyun买下了这张床，他还不知道美丹公主的灵魂正依附著这张床。原来，在久远的前世里，Su-hyun是美丹公主的乐师，他们两人相爱了。这段爱情却没有好的结果，黄将军一直爱慕着公主，却苦于得不到他的爱情，在强烈的嫉妒心驱使之下，他杀死了Su-hyun。但这并没有阻断两人的爱情，他们化身成两棵盘跟错结的银杏树，直到一棵被闪电劈死，而美丹被早成了一张床。魂魄游荡的黄将军渴望得到公主的爱情，不惜一切拆散他们，这次他找到了Su-hyun要再一次的杀死他，而公主一心要救他逃脱甚至不惜为他而魂飞魄散……

故事从一个女孩子的回忆开始，她讲述自己爸爸妈妈的故事——Su-hyun跟外科医生Sun-young是一对情侣，一天Su-hyun梦到一个神秘的地方，燃烧的火焰中出现一张白衣女子的脸，他正在思索一张床迎面掉落……第二天他居然看到了梦里的地方，看到了一张银杏树床。Su-hyun买下了这张床，他还不知道美丹公主的灵魂正依附著这张床。原来，在久远的前世里，Su-hyun是美丹公主的乐师，他们两人相爱了。这段爱情却没有好的结果，黄将军一直爱慕着公主，却苦于得不到他的爱情，在强烈的嫉妒心驱使之下，他杀死了Su-hyun。但这并没有阻断两人的爱情，他们化身成两棵盘跟错结的银杏树，直到一棵被闪电劈死，而美丹被早成了一张床。魂魄游荡的黄将军渴望得到公主的爱情，不惜一切拆散他们，这次他找到了Su-hyun要再一次的杀死他，而公主一心要救他逃脱甚至不惜为他而魂飞魄散……

少女飞一出生就注定了悲惨的命运。做为两大夙敌部族梅族、火山族族长的女儿，她的出生是梅族对付火山族的利器。只有用她来祭奠神山，才能获取圣剑，使梅族打败火山族，过上富裕的日子。为此身为梅族族长的母亲愁，一心想要找到她。父亲带着飞逃回火山族区域后，黯然远走。飞与少年赤、丹及少女燕度过了艰辛却难忘的成长岁月。感情也在他们之间生长。赤与飞相恋，燕一心爱着丹，丹的眼光却始终追随着飞。最终为了拯救被梅族掠走的飞，丹背叛了族人的信任也背叛了朋友的友情。梅族与火山族的命运之争夹杂着几个年轻人的爱恨情仇，结局只能是令人惆怅。

常雁（王薇 饰）是《妇女生活》编辑部的记者，她和方翔（祝肇隆 饰）相恋多年，两人早已经同居，常雁很想和方翔结婚，但在这方面，方翔似乎没有什么动静。某日，在外出采访时，常雁结识了名叫孟莲莲的女子，孟莲莲告诉常雁，自己和县委干部姚敏生相恋了，他答应她一定会娶她。然而，此时的姚敏生因为升官，早已经将孟莲莲抛到了脑后，常雁把两人的事情反映给了县委书记。 　　常雁给方翔打电话，方翔没有按约定接听，常雁怀疑方翔和他漂亮的女同事赵小芸在一起。日常的各种琐事令常雁和方翔之间的感情产生了裂痕，常雁开始思考起两人的未来。

《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…

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。

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…

"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.