A curator terrified of green plants, a mother coated in plastic in order to be exhibited, a ballet of Virgin Saints, attendants worn out by Rodin, a minister lost in an exhibition of sex organs, a car that has disappeared in the Rembrandt car park, provincials in love with the Impressionists, mischievous tourists running from one room to the next, a stowaway in the principal art section, Picasso, Gauguin and Warhol: they’re all there in this microcosm of the larger world, in this museum that is not as imaginary as all that, dancing the burlesque human comedy.