Fargo
There was some discussion over at Gone Elsewhere about the relative merits of the films written and directed by Joel and Ethan Coen, especially in light of their recent release, True Grit. They have made fifteen features, and I've had the pleasure of seeing all of them in theaters. Well, almost all of them have been pleasures--only two, Intolerable Cruelty and The Ladykillers, were not up to snuff in my eyes.
But sitting at the top of the heap, easily, is Fargo, which was released in 1996. I took another look at it on New Year's Eve, and it was interesting to experience it again (it was probably the fourth time or so that I'd seen it). I found myself a little put off by the depiction of Minnesota yokels--the "ya's" and "you betchas" push the edge of mockery, particularly in a scene in which Marge Gunderson (Francis McDormand) interviews two prostitutes. But this eases somewhat once I realize they are not mocking these people. If anything, they are the heroes of the piece, and stand in shining virtue to the despicable folks from the Twin Cities.
I'd also forgotten the structure of the film. McDormand doesn't appear until more than a half-hour has passed by. The first third of the film deals solely with the pathetic Jerry Lundergaard (William H. Macy, in a brilliant comic performance), a hapless car salesman who is deep in debt and has hatched a scheme to have his wife kidnapped and ransomed by his rich father-in-law. He has hired another hapless individual, Steve Buscemi (also brilliant), who is teamed with the nearly silent Peter Stormare. As almost all crimes like this one in movies, it does not go as planned.
After a few viewings of a Coen Brothers film one can start appreciating the little things. The details are abundant and rewarding, whether it's the poster of the polka star on the back of Macy's son's door, the way his father-in-law (Harve Presnell) pronounces McDonald's "MacDonald's," or Buscemi taking an escort to see Jose Feliciano in a hotel ballroom. The photography by Roger Deakins is sublime, using the snow as an extra character. The film is bracketed by shots of a car heading down a snow-covered road, and an aerial shot of a forlorn Macy trudging to his car in a parking lot, and his subsequent fit of pique while scraping the ice off the windows, is genius.
The film also has a subversive quality, from the opening title card announcing it was a true story (it was not) to the audacious mixture of violence and humor. Yes, that is a man being put through a wood-chipper, and yes, it is funny.
The best comment I heard about Fargo came from Gene Siskel, who said that he could watch it every week. I haven't tried that, but I think he's right, as this film is so rich that one could discover things in on the hundredth view. I think it's the best Coen Brothers film, and that's saying quite a bit.
But sitting at the top of the heap, easily, is Fargo, which was released in 1996. I took another look at it on New Year's Eve, and it was interesting to experience it again (it was probably the fourth time or so that I'd seen it). I found myself a little put off by the depiction of Minnesota yokels--the "ya's" and "you betchas" push the edge of mockery, particularly in a scene in which Marge Gunderson (Francis McDormand) interviews two prostitutes. But this eases somewhat once I realize they are not mocking these people. If anything, they are the heroes of the piece, and stand in shining virtue to the despicable folks from the Twin Cities.
I'd also forgotten the structure of the film. McDormand doesn't appear until more than a half-hour has passed by. The first third of the film deals solely with the pathetic Jerry Lundergaard (William H. Macy, in a brilliant comic performance), a hapless car salesman who is deep in debt and has hatched a scheme to have his wife kidnapped and ransomed by his rich father-in-law. He has hired another hapless individual, Steve Buscemi (also brilliant), who is teamed with the nearly silent Peter Stormare. As almost all crimes like this one in movies, it does not go as planned.
After a few viewings of a Coen Brothers film one can start appreciating the little things. The details are abundant and rewarding, whether it's the poster of the polka star on the back of Macy's son's door, the way his father-in-law (Harve Presnell) pronounces McDonald's "MacDonald's," or Buscemi taking an escort to see Jose Feliciano in a hotel ballroom. The photography by Roger Deakins is sublime, using the snow as an extra character. The film is bracketed by shots of a car heading down a snow-covered road, and an aerial shot of a forlorn Macy trudging to his car in a parking lot, and his subsequent fit of pique while scraping the ice off the windows, is genius.
The film also has a subversive quality, from the opening title card announcing it was a true story (it was not) to the audacious mixture of violence and humor. Yes, that is a man being put through a wood-chipper, and yes, it is funny.
The best comment I heard about Fargo came from Gene Siskel, who said that he could watch it every week. I haven't tried that, but I think he's right, as this film is so rich that one could discover things in on the hundredth view. I think it's the best Coen Brothers film, and that's saying quite a bit.
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