The Coens are often criticised for simply making tributes to other better films, hopping from one genre to another, creating pastiches that don't break new ground. However, I am of the belief that it is their intimate appreciation of particular genres that allows them to play with their tropes, distorting these conventions into surprising new forms, independent of the original inspiration. In the case of Fargo, they tackle the true crime drama. We open with the classic line - "This is based on a true story" - already they are subverting expectations with a delightfully ironic playfulness that we will come to appreciate later in the film.
What comes next is an opening as rousingly cinematic as any I have seen. Roger Deakins captures a bleak landscape of snow as two lights from a truck approach us. When it comes into focus - cresting the brow of a hill - Carter Burwell's score swells, creating a moment that is inexplicably stirring. This contrasts with what follows; a down to earth portrait of a typical small town bar. However, a juxtaposition such as this is not unusual for Fargo, indeed, it is a film of strange contrasts and unexpected combinations.
Chief amongst these is perhaps the marriage of intense violence with deadpan humour. This is shown in the scene that Marge Gunderson - played brilliantly by Frances McDormand - inspects a grisly crime scene. After a quick examination, she concludes that it was an "execution type deal", delivering the line with a matter of fact pragmatism. Later, when her partner interjects with a suggestion, she responds with the famous line, "I'm not sure I agree with you a hundred percent on your police work there Lou". Moments such as these not only provide comic relief for the audience but also ring true with the theme of ordinary people trying to cope in the face of immorality.
The somewhat mundane everyday setting of the story - typified by the interactions between Marge and her husband Norm - helps to make the crimes seem all the more unconscionable. Contrasted against the innocence of Norm's sincere insistence to make Marge breakfast and his painting competitions, we see the violence in a shocking light. This works two ways though. The juxtaposition also serves to cement Marge and Norm as the great moral core of the story. Their inclusion humanises the film, and is central to, the paean to the everyday worker which the Coens ultimately create.
I would be remiss not to mention the performances in the film. Frances McDormand is wonderful as Marge - the pregnant police officer- a quietly charismatic redeeming presence who is instantly sympathetic. Steve Buscemi puts in a brilliantly slimy turn as the hapless criminal and William H. Macy is equally pathetic as the car salesman with a foolish plan to have his wife kidnapped. However, these performances would not be the same without a script packed with the Coens typically acerbic wit; their writing laces the film with a unique tone that immediately differentiates it from your typical crime drama.
Another distinctive element to the film is its setting. In North Dakota the cold seems omnipresent and the snow seems infinite - the climate pervades every aspect of life - imbuing the film with an unmistakable sense of desolation. This bleakness is captured in all its austere grandeur by Deakins' cinematography. One particularly memorable scene displays Buscemi frantically burying a briefcase. He kneels next to a fence that seems to stretch to infinity as small drops of blood from a wound taint the crisp white snow. In comparison to the vast landscape in which he finds himself, his trials are made to seem very insignificant. This sequence is a fitting climax to what at times plays as an almost Shakespearean tragedy. The futility and ultimate pointlessness of their crimes is highlighted in telling fashion, as Marge so aptly puts it "There's more to life than a little money you know".
No comments:
Post a Comment