Imagine a world where everyone is Norwegian. Not Norwegian Norwegian, but Minnesota Norwegian. Everyone is blond, everyone smiles, and even the hookers say "Oh geez." That is the setting for the Coen brothers' latest excursion into hyper-stylized cinema, Fargo.
The plot revolves around the naive Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy), who needs money to build a parking lot he hopes will be his ticket to fame and fortune. In order to get the initial capital, Jerry plots to have his wife kidnapped by two scum-for-hire (Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare) and then take most of the ransom supplied by his father-in-law. The plan is so clichˇd that one assumes he took it from an old B-movie. Lundegaard's plans go awry quickly as the kidnappers start a killing spree and Margie Gunderson (Frances McDormand), the Brainerd police chief, works the case. These complications and others slowly push Lundegaard over the edge.
The real star of Fargo, however, is McDormand as the police chief. While she does not appear until about 30 minutes into the picture, her life brings the film into focus. She has a wonderful husband, she is seven months pregnant, and she is well-respected by the residents of Brainerd (the proud home of Paul Bunyan and Babe the blue ox). In other words, she leads the ideal American white-picket-fence life.
Somehow, she does not let this wholesome background shelter her from the "real world," where life is not so pristine. After looking at the bodies of three people who were callously murdered, Gunderson feels sick. When her deputy asks if she is alright, Gunderson replies that "It's just morning sickness." Not in an attempt to mask feminine squeamishness, however. No, it really is just morning sickness.
For the next hour, one sees Gunderson run across murder, mutilation, lies, and crazy old school chums. All of the worst elements of society wait for her around every corner.
The Coens spare no expense to show how bad society can be. The world of Fargo is violent in a much more visceral sense than any previous Coen movie. It is not the extended, almost playful violence that ruled Miller's Crossing, their gangland drama. It is also different than the absurdist Biker-of-the-Apocalypse violence of Raising Arizona.
Instead, Fargo's violence is quick and brutal. That is not to say it is of the young-white-filmmaker ilk to which many have become accustomed. For example, Tarantino played Marvin's brain exploding all over the back seat for laughs. (Do they write about cinema violence without mentioning the T-word anymore?) When the Stomare suddenly lets forth a geyser of blood from a highway patrolman's head in Fargo, no one in the theater laughed. At all.
None of this horror, however, jades Gunderson in any way. That is not to say that Gunderson is living in a dream world. Rather, she is able to remain happy without innocence or naivetˇ. If only Hollywood were brimming with such strong roles for actresses and optimism.
That is really what Fargo is about. How do you live in a world where horrible things happen every day, but still take pleasure in the small, good things? Hundreds of films have explored the seedy undercurrents of apparently ideal homes; parodying the Cleavers is nothing new. To construct a "perfect household" as a den of evil waiting to happen, and still maintain a vision of hope, however, is a major feat.
The Coens' usual detractors will find the same faults with Fargo that they have found since Blood Simple. Many criticize the good brothers' preference for package over content. The gist of the argument runs as follows: instead of developing a niche within film, they have done their best to copy what they see in the films of others. While this may win them an award as the ultimate movie fans, it prevents them from contributing anything unique and valuable to American cinema.
While I agree that the Coens certainly make genre pieces, I do not believe they are of little worth. Each of their films is laced with a killer dark wit and sharp caricatures, but rarely with dull moments.
Yes, they do come off as professional movie buffs. But what more could a movie-goer want? If someone who spends their entire life in a theater does not know what is fun to watch, who does? ****
Copyright 1996, The Yale Herald, Inc. All rights reserved.
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