Fargo ★★★★

     Amid the sunless winter of snow enveloped Minnesota rests a tale of greed, murder, and morality. "Fargo" is a 1996 drama, written and directed by one of Hollywood's most renowned brother duos, the Coens. They are known for divulging into subjects that evoke feelings of empathy and certainly creating films that leave us questioning the farthest corners of our mind, in hopes that we may begin to understand the dark undertones of their seemingly simplistic storytelling. 

    On the surface of things, "Fargo" is just about an ordinary car salesman, whose financial burdens have culminated to a place of desperation in his restless mind. It concerns a female police chief, as she trudges through everyday life as a pregnant mother while covering the routine procedures of a fresh homicide case; a depiction of two criminals who have a rather difficult experience executing a crime of elementary proportions. 

    However, the actions and subsequent events created by these eccentric individuals will provide a stark contrast to the blinding innocence furnished by the white backdrop of freshly laid snow. (A subtle indication that this film is more than meets the eye.) A rich tapestry sewed together with satire, drama, and symbolism to birth an isolated style, which, unfortunately, is lost on many of today's younger viewers. 

    Jerry Lundegaard is the aforementioned typical car salesman, who lives in Minnesota with a wife and son. We first meet Jerry as he drifts into Fargo, North Dakota, to discuss the broad intricacies of a plan to relieve his financial encumbrance. An agreement is settled with two crooks, who come highly recommended by one of his ex-con mechanics, to kidnap his wife and receive a ransom from his wealthy father-in-law. 

    As the film progresses, it is difficult not to sympathize with Jerry, as he becomes the victim of his own ineptness. He heedlessly fabricates this scheme to solve his materialistic problems, but fails to give himself a realistic chance of succeeding. Case in point: When an opportunity presents itself to provide compensation, Jerry cannot even get in touch with the hired guns to call off the operation. 

    We watch as Jerry wallows in the pit of human indecency, attempting to swindle customers out of extra cash to pocket himself. Another failure to add to the list of non-fulfillment. Jerry has never been in control of a situation, not even a plan of his own volition. After Jerry's father-in-law takes control of the ransom situation, Jerry exclaims, "This is my deal." Jerry Lundegaard essentially becomes a classic portrayal of the struggle for human dignity--a dramatic foil of ineptitude. 

    This leads us to the inclusion of our unconventional protagonist in Marge Gunderson. Marge, played impeccably by the very talented Frances McDormand, becomes a constituent of this case by chance, as one of the two incompetent kidnappers leaves behind a trail of murders. Marge is highly intelligent and quite skilled at placing a particular crime in a distinct time and fashion. (This is discerned as Marge dominates a frozen crime scene, while another police official stands by dumbfounded.) 

    

    She is given moral support by a husband who spends his time creating portraits of mallards to become the face of the most expensive Federal Duck Stamp. Marge is sweet and innocently naive, as she even meets an old high school classmate, blinded to the fact that he wants to impose romantically inclined feelings upon her. All of these traits become accentuated by a thick Minnesotan accent that has since become one of the most memorable aspects of the film. 

    Although it is true that the characters in this film identify with simple stereotypes, (the overbearing and well-to-do father in law, the weaselly and psychotic abductors) it is in these externally observable truths that make this film viable. Even Marge can be associated with a candid definition of characterization, the leitmotif, as she continually indulges in the ritual of eating. We are left with a satire of a credible magnitude simply because these personas can be found anywhere. 

    "Fargo" is not a film to be enjoyed once. It is meant to become a lasting image of everyday life when the thin line of morality is dwindled into oblivion. Although this picture doesn't display the finest example of the editing process, the Coens have excelled in creating a timeless atmosphere to counter the lewdness of its actions. An ambiance that permeates another film of this decade, "A Simple Plan," instituted on behalf of the advice of the Coen brothers. 

    There is a subtle moral implication presented by the trusting Marge Gunderson at the end of this film. The lengths to which each reprobate individual will go to gain prosperity is lost on her guileless consciousness. The internal truth of human nature descending upon these characters in the only discernible fashion. With a magnificent dialogue to boot, "Fargo" is a slice of life that shows just how fragile life can be and how humorous these situations may seem to an outside entity.