Fargo

When I first saw Fargo on glorious VHS in 1997 or so, I'd heard most of the Oscar buzz, but I don't recall the film playing in the theaters in my hometown.  Of course, at 22, this isn't exactly the kind of film I went out to see.

No, back then, I was looking at independent comedies, and I fancied myself a fan of dark comedies (based mostly on my relationship with Clerks and Harold & Maude), but not necessarily films this dark.  For the longest time, I didn't consider this film a dark comedy, despite all the black humor here.  I'm not sure what I was thinking.  I was 22.  That's all I can say.

Years on, I can see why Fargo won the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay.  Fargo is an incredibly brave piece of writing.  By the 6-minute mark, we've met William H. Macy's Jerry Lundegaard, a crooked car dealer taken to his logical conclusion, and the two dangerous types he hires to help him.  See, Lundegaard just wants to run a little scheme, make a little money, and get himself out of financial trouble.

Peter Stormare's chain-smoking hitman is downright frightening in this film.  He's cold-blooded, psychotic — the last kind of man Jerry Lundegaard actually wants to hire, and the last guy Steve Buscemi's character wants to offend.  Of course, Buscemi's character is no Snow White (think that name over and feel free to wonder if I'm making a pun).

But that's not why the script is so brave.   The protagonist, Marge Gunderson, played by Frances McDormand, doesn't even appear until the 33-minute mark of a 98-minute film, defying all the conventions in all the screenwriting textbooks.  She turns out to be the most interesting character, and the Coens left her in the quiver for almost 1/3 of the picture.  She's a spitfire, a real detective, able to piece together crimes in seconds, just by looking around the scene.  In this way, she's a lot like Willem Dafoe in The Boondock Saints, except Fargo doesn't blow ass.

Marge owns every scene, and pwns every male in this film.  She doesn't need help.  She's a supportive wife to a dutiful artist, a competent chief of police, a great detective, an excellent shot, and a mother-to-be.  I'm not sure there's ever been a stronger protagonist ever put to film.  Her husband is just as supportive, offering to make her eggs when she's called to work in the night, and insisting that she eat a good breakfast.  He's also the kind of guy who will fall asleep in bed with his hand in a bag of potato chips.  He's harmless, a beta male.  They make a great couple.

This time through, I saw shades of my wife and me.  She's going to end up making more money when she's done with school, and I'm not too fussed about that.  I'll play the supporting role in this house.  She's no cop and I'm no painter, but the comparisons aren't too hard to make.  She's in nursing school and I'm a teacher.  When she's done, I won't be the breadwinner.  I'll be the breadrunner-upper or something.  Whatever.  If the Gundersons are any indication, that stuff works too.

I made a point to collect all the Coen Brothers' films on DVD, because as far as modern filmmaking goes, nobody is doing better work.  I don't reach for Fargo often, but when I do, I always see new bits to appreciate, and I don't just mean bits of Steve Buscemi flying out of a wood chipper.  You betcha.