Fargo (1996)


"There's more to life than a little money, you know."
- from Fargo

Fargo is a special movie. It's a bloody crime thriller. It's a black comedy about the dumbness of human nature. It provides a look into a pregnant police chief's personal life and the adorable relationship she has with her husband (they look like teddy bears when snuggled against each other). The contradictions couldn't be any more clear, but this movie finds a way to you, and you eat it up with gusto, simply because it delivers in all the genres it explores.

Incompetent car salesman Jerry Lundegaard, shown in the film to be quite fond of devising half-baked schemes to solve his problems, is in urgent need of money to pay off his debts, so he employs the services of two men to "kidnap" his own wife in order to extort money from his wealthy father-in-law. It's supposed to be a smooth, flawless plan, no screw-ups intended, but that's just not going to do it for a Coen brothers movie. Through some unfortunate circumstances, blood is shed against the stark white landscape, and the supposedly flawless plan turns into a triple homicide case that sends seven-month pregnant police chief Marge Gunderson to track down the rampaging killers and the others involed. You have to wonder if the chill of the snowy landscapes of Minnesota has frozen the brains and hearts of some of the movie's characters, making them lose their sense of reading situations (a wealthy, preppy businessman going to try and haggle with an amateurish criminal over the release of his kidnapped daughter? How stupid of him). You never expect people with names brimming with normalcy like Marge, Jerry, Jean, Carl, and Norm get caught in something as bizarre and strange as this; the best idea for them would have been to continue on with their humdrum lives, but greed and money suck them right into the plot.

Like the characters in the movie, who most of the time drive through an endless expanse of snow as if heading nowhere in particular, the plot drags us and looks intent on bringing us to a certain conclusion, but you never know what can happen in the middle of nowhere. The plot takes us there, alright, but swerves through some unpredictable and seldom-used roads, disclosing the personalities of the main characters through the small details each scene suggests. Does the part where Jerry nervously shifts in his seat while talking to a financer on the phone shed any light to his personality? Is the scene where Carl buries the stash of money under the snow and looks around to find no landmarks nearby significant to his character at all? Is the scene where Jerry is seen scribbling car serial numbers in botched-up writing reveal some of his schemes? Does Marge bending over, holding her stomach, claiming to have "morning sickness" give away anything? All the answers are yes; every detail is as important as sunlight in Minnesota.

What makes this movie special is that despite crawling with small town humor (punctuated by those weird Minnesotan accents), belt-whipping frenzys and blown-out cheeks, it's got this warm, pulsating heart in the middle of it, throbbing so loudly as we see small town life right before us. Just seeing Marge interact with her dim partner, cashiers, drive-thru order takers, and her own husband is heartwarming to witness, slightly easing the stigma of the disturbing plot, making us feel at home with the events transpiring, offering light-heartedness amid bloody killings.

Fargo's simplicity makes it a masterpiece; this is old-fashioned storytelling, solid from beginning to end, keeping us engaged and interested with every turn of event. It plays with the idea of fate and circumstance, juggling violence and goodness masterfully, being insightful yet entertaining. Whether or not you find Carl as "funny-looking" or see Marge as a courageous, heroic woman despite carrying a bit of a load in the entire movie, or feel sympathetic towards Jerry as he continually screws up his own half-baked plans, Fargo deserves all the praise it can get.