Super film with a super lady (spoilers)

Rating: Null/10 (17 September 2005)

It's well known now that Fargo, contrary to the titles at the start, isn't based on a true story. It was just a little dig, a little joke at the expense of the 'true story' phenomenon. But at the same time it was a calculated move to get the audience to go with the story, because if the audience is told that something is true they're more likely to allow themselves to be swept up by it and believe in it. And I guess for some people Fargo may seem a little weird (well, to people who have been weaned on blockbusters). Therefore the true story tag was there to help make the plot seem more plausible.
But, really, the film didn't need it. The film only seems odd in that the characters speak like real people, with all the broken sentences and 'ums' and 'ahs' (and 'yahs'), and act like real people  some act with nobility, others are completely feckless and some are violent. It also seems unusual because we're used to films where people speak perfectly, think perfectly and act perfectly. So, therefore, most audiences are used to a Hollywood unreality, which is why Fargo was such a breath of fresh air all those years back
What I enjoy most about Fargo is Jerry Lundegaard (played by William H. Macy). He's such an idiot, a real putz ('What the heck d'ya mean?'). Yet despite the fact that he's stupid, and despite the fact that he has his own wife kidnapped for money, I can't help but kind of feel sorry for the guy. And I sort of feel sorry for him because he's human. He's embarrassed when he's asked why he needs the money; he's awkward when he's telling his son that something has happened to his mother; he gets angry when his plans fall through; and he loses his rag when the police finally catch on to him. Yet even then he desperately tries to maintain his dignity. He never reveals his true feelings. ('I answered the darn I'm co-operating here.') And I also like the fact that he always tries to overcome the new problems that he faces. He never quits. The funniest example is the way that he drives off halfway through a police interview. It kind of reminds me of The Simpsons (the sound of rushing footsteps and then the screeching of tyres). But there's also his final scene where he tries to escape the police by climbing through a window. He's a pathetic guy but at least he seems real.
But although Lundegaard is something of a sympathetic character, he's also the most unforgivable. I mean, Steve Buscemi's character and Peter Stormare's character are just plain ruthless. They're greedy, immoral people and that's that. But Lundergaard is a family man with responsibilities and people who are dependant on him. Therefore, although he doesn't kill anyone, his actions are the most heinous.
But speaking of Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare, they're absolutely fantastic in this film. At first they kind of seem like a buffoonish odd couple, but because you've bought into their weird relationship with its amusing eccentricities (I love the pancake conversation), it makes the violence all the more shocking. These aren't cackling villains or loud-mouthed bad guys; they're the sort of psychopathic people you could meet in a bar or on the street. And as a consequence they're more interesting to watch. I especially like the scene where Buscemi is trying to get Stormare to talk. Even kidnappers need conversation. But I also like the scene with the state trooper. It's the scene where the fun and games stop. You really know what these characters are capable of. And the coldly efficient killings that follow are brutal in how simply they're directed. Too often directors try and tell you how to feel. The Coens just show it, and it's a technique that, for me, is far more effective.
Another thing that the Coens show are the Minnesota people. Having never been there I have no idea whether the accent is accurate, but it's an interesting portrait of a society. Everyone is so damn polite. Even when a parking attendant is getting threatened he's still got a big smile on his face. And there's one guy who, matter of factly, tells how Buscemi's character threatened him. It's a great scene because it captures the way that people tell stories  kind of flatly and with little creativity. And at the end they talk about the weather. Brilliant. But setting the story in Minnesota was a great decision because polite societies are often the most violent  just take Victorian England. Everything gets repressed and it ends up bursting. Plus the snow and the pure white landscape hint at something dark under the surface.
However, what lingers most in the memory is the character of Marge. She's the film's moral centre. She's the one who sees through the insanity of what's happening and the one that gives you hope for the future. Indeed, Marge and Norm are comforting figures. They have a relationship that is without mystery but one that is rock solid. They give you hope that sanity will prevail. And I like Marge's scene with the frighteningly needy Mike. ('You're such a super lady and I'm so lonely.') Even in the face of such pent-up madness she keeps her dignity and her composure. She really is a super lady.
And Fargo is a super film. I'm not sure I'd put it on a par with The Big Lebowski and it's a bit too thin to be truly great, but it's certainly an excellent piece of cinema.
Oh, but I've also got to mention one of my favourite lines in film. When Buscemi is talking to an escort he says, 'Find that work interesting, do you?' The woman's reaction is priceless.