Directed by: Joel Coen & Ethan Coen.
Written by: Ethan Coen & Joel Coen.
Starring: Frances McDormand (Marge Gunderson), William H. Macy (Jerry Lundegaard), Steve Buscemi (Carl Showalter), Peter Stormare (Gaear Grimsrud), Harve Presnell (Wade Gustafson), John Carroll Lynch (Norm Gunderson), Kristin Rudrüd (Jean Lundegaard), Larry Brandenburg (Stan Grossman), Steve Reevis (Shep Proudfoot), Bruce Bohne (Lou), Steve Park (Mike Yanagita), Tony Denman (Scotty Lundegaard), Cliff Rakerd (Officer Olson), Bain Boehlke (Mr. Mohra).
There
is a scene late in Fargo that has always struck me as perfect, yet it hardly
ever gets mentioned when the film is being discussed. This is probably because every
scene in Fargo is just about perfect – and this one seems like a throwaway
scene – between two minor characters (one of whom doesn’t appear in any other
scene). Fargo is one of the only movies by the Coen Brothers where the pair do
not give themselves any leeway – any room for their strange offshoots and tangents
that are often as great as the main action in the movie. Every scene in the
movie advances the plot – yes, even the Mike Yanagita scene, which I’ll get to
later. The scene I’m referring to however takes place between Officer Olson
(Cliff Rakerd) and Mr. Mohra (Bain Boehlke). On the surface, this short scene
is just in the movie to provide Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand) the
information she needs a few scenes later on where to go and look for the
kidnappers – which she does, and finds the film’s most grisly discovery. It’s a
short scene where Mohra describes his meeting with Carl (Steve Buscemi) – which
we don’t see – at a bar, where Carl complains about needing a woman and “going
crazy, down by the lake”. The scene is all done in one shot, and is a master
class in acting and writing – and in a way captures the overall point of Fargo
– that lurking behind the funny accents and over-politeness of the Minnesota
denizens lays darkness and violence. Mohra cannot bring himself to use the
language Carl uses – but that darkness is still there.
The
Coens have said they were inspired to make Fargo by the efforts – 12 years
earlier – to try and raise funds to make their independent debut, Blood Simple.
Minnesota natives, they naturally approached people in the area where they are
from – and encountered what is known as “Minnesota-nice”. To some, the Coens
are mocking the people in this movie – but I’ve never thought that. The accents
are perhaps slightly exaggerated, but not too much, and any ribbing the Coens
do is overall good natured, and has a basis in reality. Most of the characters
in Fargo are all outwardly nice people – but in reality they all have darkness
beneath them.
The
movie opens with Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy), a car salesman who works
for his father-in-law Wade Gustafson (Harve Presnell). Jerry’s in a bind – in
fact he’s in several binds – and needs money badly. He hires Carl and Gaear
(Peter Stormare) to kidnap his wife Jean (Kristen Rudrud) so that Wade will pay
the ransom – which he’ll then split with the kidnappers. Jerry wants to invest
in a parking lot to make himself good money – but he has none of his own to do
it with. Not only that, but in a scheme that obviously went awry before the
movie started (for who knows what reason) – he owes someone else hundreds of
thousands of dollars for cars he said he bought, but never did. Jerry doesn’t
keep all his schemes so big – he’s not above ripping off clients a few hundred
extra dollars on a car purchase for a “true coat”.
In many
ways, Jerry is a prototypical Coen brothers character – someone who gets in
over his head, and is punished throughout the movie. And he’s certainly
deserving of that punishment – everything that happens in the film is basically
his fault – and he’s too much of a coward to do anything about it. Even Jerry
however remains at least somewhat sympathetic – in that scene where he comes
back to his car, and starts to scrap the ice off the windows before he freaks
out for example, there is not a person who lives in an area that gets snow that
wouldn’t feel for him. He’s also spent his entire married life being belittled
and bullied by his father-in-law Wade – although whether Wade’s bullying turned
Jerry into the spineless man he is, or whether he always was spineless is
information we are not given. Like all the characters in Fargo, Jerry just
wants a little bit extra – a little bit of a better life. Unfortunately,
everything he touches turns to shit. Macy is brilliant in this role – it’s the
best work of his career – as we feel how the weight of everything slowly
becomes too much for him to bare until he snaps – in that wonderful scene where
his voice cracks when he tells Marge “I’m the executive sales manager”.
Carl
and Gaear are almost like an old school comedy team – with Buscemi being little
and motor mouthed, and Stormare are large, imposing and mostly silent. Buscemi,
who had two small roles in Miller’s Crossing and Barton Fink, is given arguably
the best role of his film career here – he is funny in many of his scenes (the initial
drive to Jerry’s, where he tells Gaear that if he doesn’t start talking, then
Carl will also shut up – only to on and on and on is a highlight), no matter
how dark the film gets, Buscemi still has moments of comedy right next to
moments of violence (“Be quiet back there or we’re going to have to, you know,
shoot you”). Carl is also the only major character who comes from somewhere
else other than Minnesota – and he’s the only one that gets outwardly hostile
throughout the movie – getting increasingly frustrated with all the Minnesota-nice
he encounters until he can’t take it anymore. Gaear is mainly silent, but he’s
the more ruthless of the two – Carl talks a big game, but when it’s time to
actually do anything that is when Gaear steps up and takes control.
Interestingly,
McDormand’s Marge doesn’t show up in the film until we’re already a third of
the way into the movie. The kidnapping of Jean has taken place – but Carl and
Gaear have run into some problems in Brainerd, and had to kill three people. So
McDormand’s police chief is called to the scene – and immediately pieces
together the crime correctly – unlike her somewhat dimwitted deputy. She’s nice
about pointing that out to him though. Marge is seven months pregnant,
seemingly happily married to Norm (John Carrol Lynch) – and a good police officer
to boot. Which brings me to the Mike Yanagita scenes in the film – which are
the ones that seemingly confuse many people, because they seem to be the only
ones that don’t directly advance the plot. I’ve always taken the traditional
reading of the scene – that while Marge is in Minneapolis following up leads,
she begrudgingly agrees to meet Mike, an old high school classmate, and
immediately senses it was a mistake when their meeting gets off to an awkward
start, and it’s clear Mike has “feelings” for her. Then later, when she finds
out that almost everything Mike told her was a lie, it gets her thinking – and
she decides to go back and challenge Jerry for a second time at the car lot –
at which point, he cracks and takes off. But a few months ago, when The
Dissolve had Fargo as it’s movie of the week, one of the contributors had a
different interpretation – so I watched Fargo this time to see if it made sense
– and it does. Marge doesn’t tell Norm about meeting with Mike – and she makes
herself up before she goes. I’m not saying Marge was prepared to have an affair
with Mike – and it does become apparent fairly early in their meeting that it
was a mistake, and the lies still get Marge to go back and confront Jerry. But,
for the first time, I saw the ulterior motive in Marge’s meeting with Mike –
maybe, like the rest of the characters, she was at least somewhat looking for
the life she doesn’t have – something a “little bit better”. She is smart and
capable as a police officer, yet she’s struck in small town Minnesota. Her
husband is loving and supportive, sure, but also somewhat passive – the two
have essentially swapped traditional gender roles, with Marge being the cop who
goes out into the world to make money, while Norm stays home makes her eggs, or
brings her lunch at the office. Perhaps, for one last time before her life
forever changes when she has her first child, Marge was looking for “what might
have been”. This puts her actions in a slightly different light – her brilliant
monologue to Gaear at the end of the film (“And for what? A little bit of
money”) not only lecturing him, but reminding herself she has a fairly good
life herself.
I have
seen Fargo countless times – it probably ranks alongside Stone’s Natural Born
Killers, Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction and Scorsese’s GoodFellas as my most watched
film ever. And yet the film never gets old. The film marked another step
forward for the Coen’s – yes, the film still owes a debt to some genre films of
the past, but it also feels wholly, uniquely itself. The cinematography by
Roger Deakins is brilliant – making the snow covered environments both cold,
and forbidding looking. The score by Carter Burwell is the best he has ever
written. Fargo moves with almost ruthless efficiency from one scene to the
next. Like most the Coen’s films, it punishes their characters for their moral
failings – Jerry in particular – but also those around them. Poor Jean who did
nothing wrong, and Jerry and Jean’s son Scotty who is going to be left all by
himself. The film is quietly merciless. But it’s also funny and humane. It is
one of the best crime movies ever made – and quite possibly the best films the
Coen have ever, or will ever, make.
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