18.07.1996

Fragmented lives

Breon James reviews Fargo by Joel and Ethan Coen, at selected cinemas

The latest film from the writer/director/producer team of Joel and Ethan Coen begins with small-town car salesman Jerry Lundergaard arranging the kidnapping of his wife by two small-time hoods. His plan is to demand a ransom from his wealthy, unsympathetic father-in-law.       

The kidnapping completed, this seemingly simple plan goes wrong at an exponential rate and Lundergaard’s control of the situation is squeezed to a minimum under the demands of the tyrannical father-in-law, the increasingly desperate kidnappers, and the shrewd investigation of the (pregnant) local police chief.

On this premise is built a film which moves from dark humour to stark brutality, as it examines a landscape of repressed tensions. Characters communicate either in homespun hicktown small-talk, or pile lie upon lie in an attempt to build a facade of stability in front of a life in ruins.

After one particularly gruesome incident (ending with a body in the boot of his car) Lundergaard, asked how he is by his son, replies, with studied cheerfulness, “Everything’s fine. I am just tired: going to bed” - a response delivered in a style reminiscent of the stereotypical American TV happy family to which he manifestly does not belong.

Of course, the fertile territory of the dark side of small-town America has been explored by filmmakers before - notably David Lynch. But Lynch’s settings and characters are almost cartoon-like in their exaggerated ‘ordinariness’. The Coens, however, achieve a heightened realism through disturbingly close observation of action and motivation, and correspondingly intense yet restrained acting.

The hyperbolically fluid camera movement of their previous films has given way here to spare, static compositions, reflecting both the alienating, snow-ridden Minnesota landscape, and the growing alienation of characters whose plans collapse leaving events to control them. Even the counterbalance to the unremitting bleakness of the main plot (the police chief’s cosy domestic life of expected baby and loving, dependable husband; the good-natured helpful towns-folk) seems sinister, suggesting passive satisfaction in an imagined status quo.

The police chief’s words toward the end of the film appear those of someone blind to the social and economic forces which motivated the crime, and to the harsh freezing weather sweeping the American hinterland through which she drives: “There’s more to life than a little bit of money you know...it’s a beautiful day!”

Fargo is an unnerving but impressive film, refusing to point a simple moral line, nor glibly tie up the end of the tale into the fancy bow offered by most Hollywood movies. Instead, the Coen brothers, with a sharp, well-paced script, excellent acting and taut, sympathetic direction, leave a bitter taste of the fragmented lives in the solid small-town setting. They expose by example the easy lies sold as entertainment which characterise much of the work of their contemporaries.

Breon James