Only bad things seem to happen to Ugo Fantozzi (Paolo Villaggio), who may just be the most unlucky man in existence. A long-suffering accountant who has worked for the enormous ItalPetrolCementThermoTextilPharmMetalChemical for over twenty years, he has hardly anything to show for it – his wife (Liù Bosisio) is far from the woman of his dreams, and he is deeply enamoured with Miss Silvani (Anna Mazzamauro), a glamorous woman that Fantozzi is hopelessly in love with, to the point of getting himself into deep trouble just to garner an iota of her affection. His life is one misadventure after the other -he finds himself in all sorts of precarious and perilous situations, and often even flirts with the law and occasionally death itself in his exploits, despite the fact that he is a man who so desperately just wants to lead a normal, fulfilling life. Everything is standing in his way from achieving some semblance of peace and quiet, and even when he doesn’t get himself into a tough situation, the tough situations tend to find him and are relentless in their pursuit to prove Fantozzi is not someone who is meant to know what happiness truly is.

White Collar Blues (alternatively known by its Italian-language title, Fantozzi) is one of the few works that could seriously make a case for being the funniest film of the 1970s. A deliriously strange comedy about the bureaucracy, seen through the eyes of an average little man, Luciano Salce’s film is an astoundingly brilliant work of early surreal comedy that never takes itself too seriously and manages to be a wonderfully weird work of slapstick brilliance. The first film to feature the character of Fantozzi, created and portrayed by the ingenious Paolo Villaggio, White Collar Blues was the beginning of a hilarious saga that saw this character tumble through ten films, bringing with him his unique blend of chaotic poor luck and unique ability to get himself into the most dangerous of situations with minimal effort. This is a film that quite literally contains a gag every minute – I can’t remember the last time I actively laughed at a film as much as this – but not one that takes advantage of the audience by expecting them to align themselves with one particular brand of comedy. It is one of the deliriously brilliant comedies of the 1970s and an outrageous, irreverent work that blends broad physical humour with a  certain sardonic satirical bite that makes it one of the most singularly unique works of its era, and an underrated gem of a film.

Its fascinating that over time, many countries have developed their own version of the bumbling fool archetype, a figure that is, in the most frank terms, a complete and utter idiot, but one with a sunny disposition and a genuinely good-natured approach to seeing life, who unfortunately finds themselves the perpetual victim of sheer rotten luck. Britain has Mr Bean, France as Monsieur Hulot – and Italy has, amongst others, Fantozzi. White Collar Blues saw the beginning of his decades-spanning cinematic journey, with Paolo Villaggio creating one of his country’s most endearing comedic figures and someone whose influence extends further than just being the unlucky fool who is cinematic folly. Fantozzi is a character who features the same silliness that makes this kind of character so endearing, but also a more perverted sense of subversive humour that allows this character to venture into much darker recesses of the human comedy. He is a character that appears to be an amalgamation of all the clumsy klutzes we adore, and the most absurd Monty Python creations, which makes for both a strange and wonderful experience – and when we would expect other characters to resolve their issues (at least momentarily) and settle into oblivious contentedness, Fantozzi’s exploits go much deeper and become far more bleak – and in a way, that almost makes him even more endearing, because there’s something so enthralling about the empathy that comes as a result of seeing someone so idiotic in such hilariously strange situations.

Paolo Villaggio was a masterful artist – not only did he create one of Italian cinema’s most enduring and beloved comedic figures in Fantozzi, he managed to consistently give brilliant performances as the character. White Collar Blues is his first foray into playing the character, and he is truly exceptional. Traditionally, there are two physical archetypes that were believed to derive the most laughs – tall and lanky, and short and rotund. Villagio occupies this second category, and he makes great use of his physicality in bringing the character to life – a squat slob of an everyman, Fantozzi is nothing special, yet he sees himself as being the perfect man, the reincarnation of Giacomo Casanova, and his exploits all being for the purpose of proving his perceived heroism, to absolutely no avail, as no one is the least bit impressed by this maladroit dunce and his attempts to show off his skills, all of which are destined to turn into gloriously uncomfortable blunders. Villagio’s performance in White Collar Blues is excellent, not only because he is a great physical comedian, but also because he is a brilliant actor in his own right – it isn’t enough to just make a mockery of yourself for the laughs, but also to depict the underlying complexities of the man in a way that is not heavy-handed, but gives him more nuanced than simply being an absent-minded moron. The reason why Fantozzi has endured so well throughout the years isn’t simply because he is naturally just a funny character, but because Villagio’s ability to extract not only enormous laughs from the audience, but also genuine empathy, and while it surely is a lot of fun to see this character and his various misadventures, what makes him so magnetic is that we feel a certain meaningful connection to him – he may be self-serving and egomaniacal, but he appears to be a genuinely good person as well, so it only makes sense that his failures are hilarious, but his victories (as few and far between as they may be) are so compelling.

White Collar Blues is a very effective comedy because it never rests on its laurels, and throughout the entirety of the film, it seems to be perpetually in the process of reinventing itself, which allows it to remain fresh and hilarious the whole way through. Far too many films of this ilk tend to rely on one specific style of comedy, in the hopes that audiences will be allured by this brand of storytelling to the point where they are willing to watch it over an extended period of time. White Collar Blues is starkly different, mainly because it blends together so many different kinds of comedy, it never has the chance to become stale, and thus the audience never grows weary. There is a healthy dosage of exuberant slapstick comedy, such as the scene where Fantozzi desperately tries to catch the bus (which features one of the most hilariously absurd sight gags I have ever seen), or the vindicative waiter who prevents our protagonist from having his meal through his constant incompetence that seems to only afflict Fantozzi. Then there are moments of smart and subversive humour – consider the cultural commentary that comes in moments where Fantozzi interacts with German campers or French citizens, or the hilarious segment that sees our hero finally score a date with the woman of his dreams, only to take her to a particularly restrictive Japanese restaurant that really does hearken back to the Imperial Era. Then there is the purely absurd – scenes that could’ve been taken directly from the minds of the most brilliantly deranged surrealists in history, where chaos seems to reign and absolutely nothing makes sense, but still remains as thrilling as ever, and oddly believable.

What makes White Collar Blues so effective is that it manages to execute each and every kind of comedy with such precision and intelligence – on the surface, this may appear to be just another series of slapstick episodes that feature a bumbling fool causing good-natured chaos wherever he goes, but when we peer slightly deeper, we see that it is a tremendously well-constructed satire that perfectly utilizes both physical and cerebral comedy in its endeavour to comment on society and its foibles through the eyes of one particularly brave individual. This film would be the first to make use of the character of Fantozzi, and it certainly makes a great impression, because he would go on to become one of the most fascinating figures of postmodern Italian comedy. It is a film that should be greatly admired, even further than it has already, because below the exuberant sheen of unhinged silliness, there is a hilarious irreverent story that comments on social and cultural situations that would otherwise not have been nearly as fascinating had they not been explored with such outrageous conviction. White Collar Blues really is one of the most underrated films of its era – it is well-written, exceptionally-constructed (there is not a wasted moment throughout the duration of the film) and has a marvellous leading turn from Paolo Villaggio, who commits himself fully to portraying this incompetent imbecile in a way that is not only hilarious, but also derives sympathy from the audience, who can’t decide if we want to see him fail or succeed. Ultimately, White Collar Blues is a bold and daring exercise in postmodern comedy, and it takes numerous risks, all of them paying off in this swashbuckling social satire that warrants every bit of acclaim it can get.