The clever have no courage, the strong no sense, and the scholar is of no practical use — so the poor man goes himself to the king and, without learning or brawn or a silver tongue, convinces him not to build the palace fountain that would divert water from the city below. Simple enough — but it's presented as a heroic spectacle, all paint and posturing, silhouettes and shadows, Sturm und Drang and blast-furnace sunsets. The result is both overwhelming and uninviting.