Despite an opening statement that it’s based on actual events, Fargo is purely the smirking, adolescent product of writer-directors Joel and Ethan Coens’ Minnesota imagination.
Jerry Lundegaard, executive sales manager at his father-in-law’s car dealership, schemes to have his wife kidnapped so that he can pay off debts with the lion’s share of the one million-dollar ransom that his father-in-law will pay. But when they kill three persons while executing Jerry’s plan, including a police officer, the two thugs from Fargo, North Dakota, that Jerry hired demand the full ransom. (In his best boy scout mode, Jerry futilely protests over the phone, “A deal’s a deal!”—the film’s one funny moment.) Meanwhile, Police Chief Marge Gunderson investigates the murders, with more murders to follow.
This is a cruel film; the Coen brothers hadn’t yet found the right formula for considering American violence without dipping into it themselves. They concoct dreadful sight gags: in the snow, Marge doubled over with morning sickness; the kidnapped woman, with a sack blinding her and her hands tied behind her back, stumbling as the kidnappers giggle; after one thug has killed the other, his passing his former compatriot’s body through a wood chipper. Such gags aren’t the only thing to make one gag; Jerry’s reassurance of his son in the wake of the kidnapping of the boy’s mother has an air of dismissal and disregard about it. All the snow is doubtless intended as a metaphor for an American coldness and inhumanity; but it is the Coens themselves who put the viewer in the deep freeze.
Much of the acting is grotesque, especially that of Harve Presnell as Jerry’s father-in-law.
Nearly everyone is treated with derision. Treated best is Marge, perhaps because she is played by Joel Coen’s wife.
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FARGO (Joel and Ethan Coen, 1996)
Despite an opening statement that it’s based on actual events, Fargo is purely the smirking, adolescent product of writer-directors Joel and Ethan Coens’ Minnesota imagination.
Jerry Lundegaard, executive sales manager at his father-in-law’s car dealership, schemes to have his wife kidnapped so that he can pay off debts with the lion’s share of the one million-dollar ransom that his father-in-law will pay. But when they kill three persons while executing Jerry’s plan, including a police officer, the two thugs from Fargo, North Dakota, that Jerry hired demand the full ransom. (In his best boy scout mode, Jerry futilely protests over the phone, “A deal’s a deal!”—the film’s one funny moment.) Meanwhile, Police Chief Marge Gunderson investigates the murders, with more murders to follow.
This is a cruel film; the Coen brothers hadn’t yet found the right formula for considering American violence without dipping into it themselves. They concoct dreadful sight gags: in the snow, Marge doubled over with morning sickness; the kidnapped woman, with a sack blinding her and her hands tied behind her back, stumbling as the kidnappers giggle; after one thug has killed the other, his passing his former compatriot’s body through a wood chipper. Such gags aren’t the only thing to make one gag; Jerry’s reassurance of his son in the wake of the kidnapping of the boy’s mother has an air of dismissal and disregard about it. All the snow is doubtless intended as a metaphor for an American coldness and inhumanity; but it is the Coens themselves who put the viewer in the deep freeze.
Much of the acting is grotesque, especially that of Harve Presnell as Jerry’s father-in-law.
Nearly everyone is treated with derision. Treated best is Marge, perhaps because she is played by Joel Coen’s wife.
Like this:
This entry was posted on March 23, 2008 at 9:33 pm and is filed under Formal Capsule Film Comments. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.