SPOILERS for Episode 1 - "The Crocodile's Dilemma" - of FX's new series "Fargo" are within.
I am not special in saying that I love the Coen Brothers. From The Big Lebowski and O' Brother, Where Art Thou to No Country for Old Men and True Grit, the Coen Brothers are responsible for some of the most beloved and outstanding films of the past 20 years. Their distinct style of darkly comedic (often pitch black) character driven pieces populated by complex individuals fond of snappy, over the top, Noir-inspired dialogue has been often imitated but never duplicated. They are two of the most unique, brilliant, consistently fresh and original directors working in Hollywood.
So, it's needless to say that when I heard that Noah Hawley (producer and writer for such TV shows as Bones, The Unusuals, and My Generation) was turning one of the Coen Brothers' most adored films, 1996's arguably perfect Fargo, into a limited series on FX, you might say I was worried. You might also say I was cringing so hard that my neck muscles ruptured and I died. (But if you did, you'd be scary and weird.) Other than the occasional M*A*S*H or The Untouchables, any time a film is made into a TV show or a TV show is made into a film, the results are at best lackluster and at worst steaming piles of "What on Earth were you thinking?!"
And I must say that during the first part of last night's premiere, I was beginning to fear that my ruptured neck muscles were prescient. Early on, the show felt like Hawley (who also pens all 10 episodes of the limited run) simply mixing and matching familiar elements from the Coen classic just to get a reaction. There's the police officer who's about to have a baby. Except instead of Frances McDormand, it's a male officer name Vern Thurman (Shawn Doyle). When two cops show up at a snow-covered stretch of highway to investigate a crime scene, it's Vern correcting his female deputy Molly Solverson (played by unknown Allison Tolman) rather than Margie Gunderson telling Lou she doesn't 100% agree with his police work there. While Lester Nygaard isn't introduced planning the kidnapping of his wife to extort a million dollars from his father in-law, Martin Freeman imbues the insurance salesman with emasculated desperation that is clearly reminiscent of William H. Macy's Jerry Lundergaard. Even Billy Bob Thornton's assassin and world-class shit-stirrer Lorne Malvo, while not having any direct connections to a Coen Brothers original, has flashes of the matter of fact cruelty of Peter Stormare's Gaear. And when Malvo ends up murdering Lester's torturer Sam Hess without actually getting Lester's go-ahead, it feels as if Hawley is simply watering down the Coens' masterpiece into the boring and overused tropes of the sympathetic loser protagonist roped into a life of crime against his will and the traditional male authority figure investigating the clues left behind.
But then Lester beats his overbearing wife to death with a ball-peen hammer and Lorne Malvo eviscerates Vern Thurman with Lester's shotgun and things take a turn.
In some ways, these acts bring the TV show closer to the film - it makes Lester more comparable to Jerry and it places Molly more firmly into the Marge Gunderson role. In others, however, one can never help feeling like something isn't quite right. The episode starts off just like the movie - a shot of a snowy wasteland backed by an ominous score. But this is not the same world we're looking at. The melody isn't building to Carter Burwell's classic theme, but instead something very different. While it looks like Molly (by the way, Allison Tolman is one of the best new talent discoveries I've seen in some time) is going to solely inhabit McDormand's role, by the end of the episode we are introduced to Colin Hanks's Gus Grimley and it seems like Hawley is up to something different altogether. It all makes for an unsettling feeling. Every time you think you have found a one-for-one connection between the film and the TV show, Hawley switches gears on you. Anytime you think you've figured out what he's doing, Hawley changes the score.
While the sequence that ultimately ends with Vern Thurman and Mrs. Nygaard dead and Lester unconscious is brilliantly crafted and impeccably written and executed, what impressed me most (and what illustrates my above point the best) is how Hawley and company are able to get you to so completely sympathize and identify with Lester Nygaard only to immediately rip that identification away when he brutally bashes in his wife's face. And Hawley (and director Adam Bernstein) does it in a way that is subtly magnificent. When Lester first hits Pearl, Bernstein immediately cuts to a point of view shot of Pearl's shocked visage as blood begins to trickle from her head. Here, Bernstein seems to be suggesting that we've been invited to identify with Lester because at one point or another we've all been harassed by our own personal Sam Hesses or emasculated or diminished by someone we love. He argues that we are the ones who have perpetrated this crime, perhaps by wishing it would happen in this world, that Lester would just go ahead and do what none of us are able to. Then, just as swiftly, Bernstein shifts out to have us watch Lester as he mercilessly beats and beats Pearl with the hammer. We don't even see his face as he does it. So in the span of a few seconds, we go from being Lester to the horror of seeing him at an angle where he appears to be swinging the hammer at us and then it shifts to an angle that completely cuts out his face, dehumanizing him. Bernstein asks us if we ourselves would be capable of an act this heinous, answers with an unequivocal "yes" and then pulls us away from Lester to challenge us to acknowledge the severity and cruelty of what he has done. It's amazing stuff and while Bernstein isn't a Coen, his style feels assured and his skill as a director is clear.
The show is not without fault, however. Often through its first hour, it makes its status as a TV show too obvious. While there are a few big shocks, much of the time Fargo is too by-the-numbers and easily predictable. Also, where even Coens' minor characters can have immense depth, many key players in the first episode are incredibly one note. Pearl Nygaard is so relentless and passive aggressively brutal with her constant needling that she becomes like a cartoon character. This combined with yet another FX trip to the local strip club imbues Fargo with an uncomfortable air and leaves it open to (justifiable, no FX pun intended) accusations of misogyny. Likewise, the bullies that plagued Lester are handled with less wit than an episode of Dads. Granted, the Coens have not built a reputation for their light touch, but all of their characters are made complex with some strange brew of compassion, melancholy or fascination that Hawley and company have yet to nail down. And, much of the first 50 minutes are spent laying down the groundwork for everything that is to come. While this can be admirable, it also doesn't make for very exciting TV, only hinting at the horror that the show is capable of until the explosive final 20 minutes.
That being said, Fargo has a spectacular amount of potential. All of the characters that remain are fascinating and from what I've read, that only continues with the introduction of more players in the upcoming episodes. All of these characters feel different from anyone the Coens have created yet feel perfectly at home in the Brothers' universe. It's a small distinction, but one that I think means a lot. That's why the final 20 minutes are the strongest. They establish a tone that feels Coen-esque while doing so in a way that feels organic and confident in its ability to strike out and become its own thing. From what I've read, in the next few episodes things only get stronger (while getting weirder and more original).
This thing could have easily warped into some weird celebration of masculinity. In a lesser show, Lester would have been a Walter White-type antihero. He could have been our put upon protagonist who gets in over his head and commits a murder, removing the manifestation of everything he hasn't gotten out of life. He could have been a gorilla like the ones Lorne Malvo talks about when he tells Lester, "Your problem is you spent your whole life think there are rules. There aren't. We used to be gorillas. All we had was what we could take and defend." Instead, Hawley and company argue that Lester is just as evil as Malvo. Instead of being a celebration of masculinity, Hawley and company (in the Coen Tradition) seem to be critiquing all of the praises they see around them. They seem to be showing what happens when the idea of masculinity is reduced to simply taking what is yours and doing away with anyone that tries to stop you.
It's not perfect. It's not the Coens. But it has potential. And I like it.
