Fargo: Season 1 Review - IGN (original) (raw)
Warning: Full spoilers for FX's first season of Fargo follow...
Over the course of its first season -- keeping in mind the show isn't technically renewed at the moment, and if it is, it will be telling a different story with different characters -- FX’s spin on the Coen brothers’ dark and violent comedy, Fargo, utilized parables, philosophical paradoxes, and Zen Koans to both frame and weave its tale. Executive producer Noah Hanley structured his ten-episode arc as one large allegory, with mini puzzles and yarns to explore along the way. Often, Fargo feels like contemporary Grimms’ bedtime story; one in which the devil comes to a quiet little town that is entirely unprepared for him.It isn’t so much that Bemidji was wholly idyllic – clearly there were bullies like Hess present with ties to a deadly crime syndicate. It’s simply that they’d never seen anything like Malvo before. Then again, how many of us have? Thankfully. This town did have a vision of itself as unspoiled, though. So much so that when that when his worldview came into question, Bob Odenkirk’s Police Chief Bill Oswalt went into such a crisis of faith that he began to doubt human kindness all together - more on that in a moment.
Meet cute.
Both Hawley and the Coens’ themselves have discussed the structural freedom that grounding your film, or in this case series, within the framework of a “true story” creates. We know that neither Fargo tale is founded in fact, but the conceit opens the door to move beyond standard story constructs. As mentioned in our finale review, Gus Grimly was able to come full circle from a man that failed to stop a demon when he had him in his sights to one who walked – or was lead – directly into his lair. Though the choice was ultimately up to him, it was if he was both gifted with the opportunity and fated to face his fear.
This was no simple act of heroism, though. The plain truth of it is that Gus shot a wounded man – a bunch - in the teeth. Was it ultimately the right thing to do? Probably, in that Malvo’s death likely saved countless other lives and left many more psyches unmolested. However, the fact that cold-blooded murder became the right thing to do for what is otherwise the sweetest character on this series presents an interesting take on the world we’ve created. In a way, Malvo proved himself right with his own demise. For Gus and his family, it was ultimately kill or be killed. Which came first, though? Was Malvo always accurate about man’s beastly nature? Or did Lorne create the need for a vile act as a result of his own actions? These are, in their own gruesome way, fun questions to think about and right in line with all of those little allegories that the show is peppered with. Rarely have we seen a series this meticulously and cleverly crafted.
Fargo examines not just the American spirit, but our collective human sense of self. It pits our vision of ourselves as good and ethical against the violence that so often roils beneath it. It asks which is true and the answer is ultimately both and neither.
By bringing the word “truth” into the equation, Hawley paradoxically opens to door to all kinds of unconventional possibilities. We ultimately root against both Lester and Malvo, the two characters that initially feel as though they may be the protagonists. There is also room for certain aspects of the story to remain elliptical. We don’t know what ultimately becomes of either Stavros or Mr. Wrench – nor do we really need to. In truth, people come in and out of our lives and we often lose track of the full picture of where their lives have gone. both Stavros and Mr. Wrench had a role to play in the case and that is what is at issue, here. Their lives have gone on – or not – and their stories are still being told.
There is also a mythic quality to the series, though. These are at once deeply human and remarkably heightened characters. They are complex creatures in an account of a crime (or crimes, rather) that also serves as a fable in which dragons appear and are eventually slayed. Fargo feels both unpredictable and, in retrospect, pre-determined; the way that life can feel surprising in the moment and the saga of our lives so often takes on an air of destiny in the telling of it.
Just read your fridge, Lester.
There is a propulsive feel to the narrative as well, because it has a definitive end point. This is one of the most appealing aspects of the new language of storytelling that the anthology series introduces - story dictates formula rather than the other way around. Everything that happens in Fargo is driving us towards this moment where the bringer of chaos, Malvo, is eradicated and life settles back to what is, for these people, its natural order. As Molly says, they’re “winning this thing,” and win they do. The God of small things, of homemade pie in a diner, fishing with your new granddaughter, and cozy nights inside while cold rages outside triumphed. It’s interesting, because the happy ending – such as it is – is part of what makes this feel so much like a fairytale and is another way that Hawley cleverly plays with the word “truth”.
Additionally, because the series followed this imagined a "true crime" case, Hawley was at liberty to skip ahead a year. The time jump was one of the more controversial creative choices that the writer made. However, the reality is that crimes are rarely solved in the span of a week as the police procedurals of the world would lead us to believe. They sometimes take months, years, and more often than we’re comfortable with, they remain unsolved.
The leap forward also allowed the writer to reveal key elements about the characters. Lester’s new Malvo-created identity had a chance to settle in and solidify; we saw that Lorne himself was more driven by pushing, manipulating, and controlling his fellow man than anything else; certainly more than money. Gus had the space and fortitude to pursue his actual desires, rather than what may look good on the exterior (a cop to some may sound more bad*** than postman). As for Molly, she showed genuine strength of spirit when she elected to move on with her life. She remained vigilant without allowing herself to become embittered; which is actually pretty miraculous.
So often, we get our feathers ruffled when we feel we are not being properly appreciated or valued in our workplace or elsewhere. Additionally, we can allow our fears or preconceptions about ourselves or others to keep us trapped and separate from those around us. Molly did not have the toxic ego that Lester had rotting just beneath his “awe, shucks” demeanor, though. Nor did she suffer from the harsh judgment and polluted life lens that kept Malvo both lonely and, well, evil.
Why Fargo Works so Well as a TV Show
She was practical enough to keep an eye on the case, but carry on with things in a manner that made life pleasant. She maintained care and compassion for a boss who limited her with his own ignorance, which is kind of amazing when you think of the far smaller offences that will so often send an average person into a rage. She saw the value in herself and Gus clearly enough to choose him, even after he’d shot her in the spleen and proved himself to be… less skilled than she when it came to police work. She was not so caught up in the idea of what a man and a partner should be that she did not see the jewel right in front of her. Okay, then
It’s interesting; Fargo is really a study in contrasts in some ways. It reveals a warmth of spirit in the midst of a frozen tundra (I know it’s a town…still). It brings up elevated, lofty ideas about the nature of things – red tides and metaphysical riddles – but in the end, it really finds value in the mundane as much as any exalted act of bravery. “Only a fool thinks he can solve the world’s problems,” Gus’ rabbi neighbor wisely tells him. “Yeah, but you gotta try, doncha?” Gus rejoins. Sure, yes, but not so much that the attempt consumes you and makes you a part of the malevolence you theoretically battle.
Stavros’ had a sharp lesson in that regard. He had big ideas about God and his wrath, the plagues that would be beset upon him for failing to fulfill his promise when he took that money. Once he’d returned the cash to the belly of the earth and so on, he figured he’d be rewarded, could not fathom that in this, his act of righteousness, that he’d be punished with the loss of his son. It wasn’t about the dogma, though. It wasn’t about one epic act, but rather the wasted years he spent consumed by avarice and ignoring the boy who adored him. In this way, the show seems to say that there really are no rules.
Other hand, the world was a much safer place when Lester did follow what he believed to be the rules… There’s that interesting Fargo dichotomy. Molly, via Malvo, points out that we can see more shades of green than any other color so that we can distinguish a predator in the woods. How do you do that in polite society, though? How do you identify a predator on sight? Mostly, you don’t…Well, some people just kind of give off that stench, honestly. However, in most cases, actions reveal people’s natures, even to themselves, if they’re willing to see it as Gus, Molly, and Bill were. Lester didn’t see himself as a monster. He blinded himself to the truth. His version of himself is both victim and survivor. He wasn’t made into beast against his will, either, though. Malvo simply unlocked a door that the nasty Mr. Nygaard was aching to burst through.
Excuse me, got a hammer?
“Whatever happened to saying good morning to your neighbors and shoveling their walk and bringin’ in each other’s Toters?”, Bill asks in the midst of his deep existential crisis. “Folks still do that,” Molly assures. They also kill each other. For her, and her dad, and Gus, and Greta, it’s about reconciling yourself to a world of contradictions where ultimately saying hello to your neighbor is up to you. You are not dependent on others to be decent to be decent yourself. You can allow yourself to be swallowed by the darkness, or not…A life with no rules sounds tempting. I guess what the series points out is that, ultimately, there are no rules other than the ones we make for ourselves. In this mythical realm of Fargo, we’ll likely both live and die by them.
Verdict
FX's Fargo was a dark, rich, occasionally funny parable about life, death, wolves, hammers, and the value of a really great stack of pancakes. This is one of the most cleverly and intricately crafted series' we've seen in some time. It's real good, then and it will be missed. [poilib element="accentDivider"]Roth Cornet is an Entertainment Editor for IGN. You can chat with her on Twitter: @RothCornet, or follow Roth-IGN on IGN.