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One of the film's pleasures is watching museum curators, each specializing in a particular century, describe their fascination with their chosen epochs. Watching them handle and interact with their favorite pieces of art is also a joy. Menno Fitski, the museum's curator of Asian art, is infectiously boyish, like a gee whiz rocket enthusiast, when describing what his exhibition of Japanese warrior sculptures will look like when the place finally opens. It doesn't matter that the space is, in that moment, a flooded, semi-dark basement. His enthusiasm lights up the room. "My socks are soaked!" he says happily, trudging through the muddy water.
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