Partying on Fat Tuesday*.

– Let's keep this party going till Sunday. – Why Sunday? – The Hindus say the world comes to an end on Sunday. – But, how will we know when it happens? – Graves will gape and the shrouded dead will run gibbering and shrieking in the streets. – Sounds like any other Sunday.

*which isn't until March 4 this year.

To support his family, small-town boy Domenico moves to Milan in the hope to find a job. Eventually he's employed, as a clerk in a drab office replacing a senior worker who died. While the days drag on, only interrupted by coffee shop small talk with fellow teenager Antonietta, the Christmas office #party draws nearer.

“My wife gave me a big kiss this morning. I only get kisses once a month, on payday.”

– Sartori

With the dark absurdity of coming out of fascism and having to run a real-world country with a naive ineptitude – represented by the too-large-borrowed-from-father-suits – and pretence childlike bureaucratic procedures, Olmi's Il posto is a wonderfully sharp observation of postwar Italy.