FargoWe all have an image in our minds of the down-home comforts of simple living, of those little touches that ground us in the warmth and ease of a way of life untouched by the sin of avarice and stain of the corrupt. Or did we just dream it, and all we can do is hold onto that image of home with all our might, like grabbing hold of snow, trying not to let it melt into nothing by the heat of our bodies? It's not that it's really a cruel world, but that the world--and the world of Fargo--is our world, where real choices, especially the poor ones, have very real, even catastrophic consequences that can't be undone.
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Fargo is all about manipulating your expectations. Right from the start, we're treated to a title indicating that the events in the film are based on a true story. This is a bold-faced lie, told with the intention of establishing that even those we trust the most in a movie--the filmmakers--are prepared to lie to us with a smile, and undermine our expectations. This is now common knowledge, but for audiences at large, it was not at the debut, leading to stories of treasure hunters scouring the snowy expanses of Minnesota, seeking buried ransom money. The plot-centric idea behind this conceit is that it allows for the framework of the story to mirror that of the "true story" style of storytelling. But even this is a con; the real reason is the lie, because the intentions of the creative duo of filmmakers--the Coen Brothers, director Joel and producer Ethan--is to subtly suggest the sense of betrayal embodied in the character of Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy). Jerry is a car salesman, and all that implies; he is in way over his head from the first scene of the film, recruiting unhinged criminals like Carl Showalter (Steve Buscemi) and Gaear Grimsrud (Peter Stormare) to kidnap his own wife, Jean (Kristin Rudrüd) over a matter of eighty-thousand dollars. Just what Jerry needs this money for remains a mystery, but one can assume that it is for something illicit, due to his recalcitrance at being caught and his apprehension to divulge his personal situation to anyone. The great con by the Coen Brothers is the skill with which they encourage you to sympathize with Jerry, who is principally our main character for the first half of the movie; but you shouldn't. Jerry is--without question--a scumbag; he lies, he cheats, he steals, he hires goons and takes no responsibility for their pursuant mayhem. To top it off, Jerry's dumb and greedy, like all the crooks in Fargo. Even though he is not strictly a criminal, Jerry's father-in-law, Wade Gustafson (Harve Presnell) is portrayed as a Scrooge-like figure with a disdain for Jerry that borders on the vindictive; his avarice proves to be his undoing like all the others. For a film with countless great scenes, a personal favorite has to be when Jerry leaves Wade's office dejected after discovering he won't be able to con his father-in-law out of three-quarters of a million dollars for a parking lot. His march across the barren, snow-blanketed empty lot--save for his lone car--shows him as isolated, even though we know better. He has a wife and son who love him, but he is consumed by his own weakness. His frustration at having to scrape the ice from his windshield in the bitter cold winter is one I can certainly relate to, but it really gives us a peek into his true character--someone who has started to let everything spiral out of control. Some people are magnets for disaster, and those like Jerry don't have enough sense to avoid it.
If Jerry is the moral corruption of Fargo, it is a blessing when he is overtaken in narrative by Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand). Marge is the golden center of the film, not because she is unerringly pious or possesses some otherworldly grace, but because she is the good person we want to expect from those stories about the pure Midwest and have come to expect from the likes of Prairie Home Companion. The expectant chief of police of the town of Brainerd, Minnesota--home of Paul Bunyon and Babe the Blue Ox--almost glows with an authentic kind of benevolence, her wisdom is not cloying but honest, a contrast to the vast, empty expanses in the white void of snow surrounding all. Amid the desolate and the cold, there is warmth in the most homely of places: a homestyle buffet, having Arby's with her hubby, Norm (John Carroll Lynch) while trading fishing lures, watching nature programs before bed. The warmth comes from within in Minnesota; home is where the heart is, and vice versa. Marge is not naive, but she exists in a world that is more Andy Griffith than The French Connection, so the idea that criminals exist is not a surprise, just the scope of the brutality. But sometimes, those who present themselves as good folks sometimes turn out to be abject liars. A scene which might seem superfluous at first is one where Marge reunites with an old high school chum named Mike Yanagita (Steve Park), an overly friendly classmate who clearly still carries a torch for Marge, a revelation which while making Marge a little uncomfortable, is somewhat quelled after he reveals his former wife passed on of leukemia. But after Marge chats with another classmate on the phone--purely by coincidence--about Mike's misfortunes, Marge realizes something which chills her--that someone who could seem so trustworthy could also be capable of deception. And all of this ties back to another pair of key scenes between Marge and Jerry, the meetings between our two main characters, both incidents carrying far different weight as a result of Marge's recent insight. These moments highlight Marge's own competence, contrasted with Jerry's own lack thereof and his highly dubious nature. Marge shines a light which reveals the imperfections in Jerry's superficial veneer...his "true coat", if you will.
Recommended for: Fans of an insightful drama, which dances effortlessly between black comedy and even horror as well. It may appear to deride the so-called "Minnesota Nice" mannerisms of politeness and niceties, but in fact it exists as a state of being, one which the likes of Jerry exploit for his own ends, marking him as a truly unique kind of villain, with Marge a perfect counterpoint by virtue of her integrity.
If Jerry is the moral corruption of Fargo, it is a blessing when he is overtaken in narrative by Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand). Marge is the golden center of the film, not because she is unerringly pious or possesses some otherworldly grace, but because she is the good person we want to expect from those stories about the pure Midwest and have come to expect from the likes of Prairie Home Companion. The expectant chief of police of the town of Brainerd, Minnesota--home of Paul Bunyon and Babe the Blue Ox--almost glows with an authentic kind of benevolence, her wisdom is not cloying but honest, a contrast to the vast, empty expanses in the white void of snow surrounding all. Amid the desolate and the cold, there is warmth in the most homely of places: a homestyle buffet, having Arby's with her hubby, Norm (John Carroll Lynch) while trading fishing lures, watching nature programs before bed. The warmth comes from within in Minnesota; home is where the heart is, and vice versa. Marge is not naive, but she exists in a world that is more Andy Griffith than The French Connection, so the idea that criminals exist is not a surprise, just the scope of the brutality. But sometimes, those who present themselves as good folks sometimes turn out to be abject liars. A scene which might seem superfluous at first is one where Marge reunites with an old high school chum named Mike Yanagita (Steve Park), an overly friendly classmate who clearly still carries a torch for Marge, a revelation which while making Marge a little uncomfortable, is somewhat quelled after he reveals his former wife passed on of leukemia. But after Marge chats with another classmate on the phone--purely by coincidence--about Mike's misfortunes, Marge realizes something which chills her--that someone who could seem so trustworthy could also be capable of deception. And all of this ties back to another pair of key scenes between Marge and Jerry, the meetings between our two main characters, both incidents carrying far different weight as a result of Marge's recent insight. These moments highlight Marge's own competence, contrasted with Jerry's own lack thereof and his highly dubious nature. Marge shines a light which reveals the imperfections in Jerry's superficial veneer...his "true coat", if you will.
Recommended for: Fans of an insightful drama, which dances effortlessly between black comedy and even horror as well. It may appear to deride the so-called "Minnesota Nice" mannerisms of politeness and niceties, but in fact it exists as a state of being, one which the likes of Jerry exploit for his own ends, marking him as a truly unique kind of villain, with Marge a perfect counterpoint by virtue of her integrity.