The World Clock was an adventurous idea. Dogma founder Lars Von Trier embarked on an ambitious project - he would set up a video camera in Los Alamos, New Mexico, and film the movements of ants.

The paths of those unsuspecting insects would then be mapped into a digital pad, which was wired to 19 rooms of a Copenhagen art gallery. Each time four ants would cross a particular point in the map, the color of the light in the corresponding room would change colour, signaling the actors in the room to change their character's mood - the ultimate natural direction.

A nice harmless piece of social commentary to warm up those cold Danish nights, right? Well, yes and no. As time went by, the line between reality of the outside world and the inner art began to blend.

Two of the actors who were supposed to fall in love in The World Clock got involved off the clock too. Battles on set were still being fought in the dressing room at the end of the day. When actors were asked to defend their character's actions, the line between "me" and "her" became blurred. What started as a documentary about performance art became a soap opera.

Just like the improv actors, Jargil pulls the audience further and further into the fictious lives of love struck Petite 2, the evil Cur, psychopathic Smuck, the emotionally void Dr. Magnus, AA the goth, and her masturbatory mother Sandra, making it increasingly more difficult to separate character from actor.

Even if you don't take to poncey pretensions of modern art, following the evolving story of the characters within The World Clock is an enjoyable way to spend an hour and twenty minutes, and should be considered a necessary viewing for any aspiring thespian.