Veit Helmer’s Absurdistan is being touted as an allegory, but if any moral to be learned from this wisp of a film will be wiped from your mind the moment credits roll. The titular locale—actually the Eurasian country Azerbaijan—is the wacky home to horny, lazy men and the giddy, easy women who both put up with the boys’ advances and pick up their slack even though the village is falling apart. All that changes, of course, when they decide to go on strike, following the lead of young Aya (Kristyna Malérová). Born on the same day as Temelko (Maximilian Mauff) and betrothed to him at age 4 in a quick, adorable scene involving an exploding ring-bearing cake, Aya accepts that she’s destined to be with Temelko and has her grandmother read the stars to tell them exactly when to consummate their relationship. Temelko is then sent off to school, returning four years later to find his town desperate for water after their main pipeline breaks. Somehow he manages to find enough for the ritual bath he and Aya must take before they get it on—but Aya is horrified by his selfishness and lets him know that there won’t be any sex until the pipeline is fixed. A battle of the sexes ensues, with Absurdistan’s women drawing a border around their collective booty and defending it with razor wire and rifles while the men flounder about, too stupid to find pleasure elsewhere or to get to work already. The sex strike is essentially all Absurdistan is about, and with little dialogue except the occasional voiceover and lots of hmph!s, the film isn’t much more than light slapstick bookended by a sweet if lust-driven romance. It’s charming enough—though with more smiles than laughs—and Malérová makes a tough-but-luminous leading lady. The script continually associates sex with a feeling of weightlessness and expresses the metaphor visually at the end, with Aya rocketed up in the air only to float along on a parachute-thingy MacGyver’d by Temelko. Like the rest of the film, the moment is pleasant, if a bit weird.