Ever heard people throw around famous directors’ names and think “What if there was a way to make short, pithy references to their cinematic masterpieces without actually having to sit through Battleship Potemkin? Fortunately, now there is! We’ve dispatched Intern Anastasia to brave the subtitles—and the pretentious clerks at Kim’s Video—so you can sound cultured at dinner parties.

Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal is about a 14th century knight who returns to Sweden after the Crusades only to find it ravaged by the plague. F, right? It’s all about existential angst and questioning God’s existence, topics so weighty only clove-smoking, 15-year-olds with a thing for Joy Division could possibly understand them.

In the first scene, the knight, Antonius Block, and his squire, Jons, are approached by a pale man in a black robe. Spoiler: He's Death! Thinking quickly, Antonius challenges Death to a chess match: if he wins, he gets to live. Death agrees, and they play. Approximately 30 seconds later, they stop. They pick up their game at various points during the film—like a possibly-fatal game of Scrabulous. You’d think playing chess with Death would be worth taking a whole hour out of his busy 14th century lifestyle, but Antonius Block has shit to do.

Continuing on their journey home, Antonius and Jons come across a church. Someone’s painting a death-themed fresco (cheery!), and he’s only too happy to explain the effects of the plague—“they try to tear out the boils, they bite their hands, they scratch open their veins.” Related: Has anyone checked Amy Winehouse for plague?

While there, Antonius figures he might as well unburden himself to a priest. “My heart is void,” he says, “the void is a mirror, I see my face, and feel loathing and horror.” A sentiment no doubt echoed by acne-ridden goth teens. But then he brags about his strategy for beating Death at chess. And OMG—turns out the priest is really Death. Who would have guessed Death would fuck Antonius over like that? Whatevs, though, Antonius isn’t worried: “The blood is pulsing in my veins. The sun is still at the zenith. And I, Antonius Block, am playing chess with Death.” And he’s soooo dramatic about it.

Anyway, Antonius and Jons move on to an abandoned village. Jons walks in on a guy about to attack a young girl, and saves the day by stopping him. Then, Jons informs the girl that “I could have raped you, but I don’t believe in that kind of love, it’s a little dull in the end.” Chivalry rules. Also, he needs a housekeeper, and since he saved her life, she kind of owes him. So she joins them.

Then they get to a livelier town, where three actors—Joseph, Mary, and Skat—are singing songs. They go something like: “The horse is up the tree crowing”—insert crowing noises—“the road is wide but the gate narrow,” etc. If you changed their name from “Joseph, Mary and Skat” to something involving mountains or a woodland creature, they’d be Pitchfork darlings.

In addition to nauseating folk bands, the town hosts a procession of self-flagellating penitents and crucifix-bearing priests, who tell everyone present that they’re “Doomed! Doomed! Doomed!” And in the case of Antonius Block and company, they’re pretty much right.

But before the doom, there’s an idyllic countryside scene with Antonius, Jons, Jons’s non-raped housekeeper girl, and Joseph and Mary and their son Michael. They’re all sitting around eating strawberries and milk and looking Aryan, when Antonius gets all philosophical: “I shall remember our words, and I shall bear this memory between my hands as carefully as a bowl of fresh milk.” And then Joseph plays a song he wrote about spring, on his lute—so sensitive! They decide to go through the woods together, even though they’re “full of evil spirits and robbers,” because the other route is too plague-ridden.

Well, that was a mistake. First, they see a supposed “witch” being burned at the stake, causing Jons and Antonius argue over the existence of God: “Are there angels, God, Satan, emptiness? No, emptiness, milord.” “No, it can’t be!” And then Antonius all but loses his chess match to Death, who holds off on checkmating him so he can return home before dying. Joseph sees Antonius with Death, and he and Mary get the hell out of the woods as fast as possible.

The others in the group aren’t so lucky; they all go home with Antonius. His wife makes dinner for everyone, and then Death shows up and ruins the whole thing just like he always does. After everyone introduces themselves to Death he leads them in a “solemn dance towards the dark lands.” So in conclusion, we’re all doomed! Who wants popcorn?