Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink... well, almost. Pre-apocalyptic Taipei is drowning, but its residents may yet go thirsty. Seven days until the turn of the millennium, when a quarantined area is to have its water supply cut off. Outside, it rains relentlessly. Inside, the wallpaper peels off as sheets of water travel from ceiling to floor. The bad news is the virus, passed on by cockroaches, which reduces its victims to scuttling around on the floor in search of hiding places.

Tsai's vision is not all dark. Flashy 1950's song and dance numbers burst on the scene, with pouty women strutting their stuff against the grungy concrete. This seems no less absurd, however, than the fate of two people left in a semi-abandoned apartment building. When a plumber in search of a leaky pipe creates a hole in a young man's floor, the woman living downstairs must contend with her upstairs neighbour's curious eye. What is at first an annoyance may in the end be a lifesaver, however, as their isolated lives impinge on one another.

How people cope with a desperate situation is the focus of this film which effectively condemns late-20th century society. Shot entirely in one building complex, claustrophobia sets in. Scenes of solitary individuals reaching out in their despair - to a cat, to someone on the other end of the telephone line - testify to a lack of community. The general critique gives way to a sympathetic portrayal of human neediness, but the glimmer of salvation comes from a retreat to the unreal.