Deja Viewed: Fargo, Season II


One reason that Fargo the TV series is not more popular is because people think that it’s the small-screen version of Fargo the movie.

The error is understandable. Television has made a cottage industry out of taking films and stretching them into longer (more profitable) home entertainment. Think Snowpiercer, Watchmen, Friday Night Lights. Movies, but with commercials.

Fargo is not a movie with commercials. Fargo is a Coen Brothers trivia game with commercials. No Country for Old Men, The Big Lebowski, Miller’s Crossing and just about every movie Joel and Ethan Coen ever made are referenced in the series, which has spanned four seasons (so far), a half-century of ”true” crime stories and one zealous Coen Bros. fanboy, show runner Noah Hawley. If you play a Coens-reference drinking game, you are hospital-drunk by the half hour mark of any episode.

Hawley pays homage to the Coens the way Paul Thomas Anderson kneels at the altar of Stanley Kubrick: with an awe, reverence and an attention to the master’s style that cannot help but mimic brilliance, thus producing its own.

And nowhere is that more evident than in the second season, in 2015, perhaps the greatest 10-part crime story ever told. Which makes sense, since it’s a sly take on the greatest one-part crime story ever told: The Book of Job.

The Coens (who serve as executive producers) and Hawley have never said as much, and the season’s symbolism — particularly the neon blue UFO that plays such a critical role — is debated even now.

But the Coen Brothers have made careers out of religious parables, and Hawley has likewise chocked the series with biblical references. And season two is Sunday school with action sequences.

Consider these divine parallels with the bible and Fargo’s 1979 ”true crime” story about a couple that stumbles into a massacre at a Minnesota diner (spoilers abound):

  • The series begins when the target of the killing (Joan Cusack) tells a cautionary tale about Job’s plight to her murderer.
  • The hero, Trooper Lou Solverson (Patrick Wilson) is a man of unwavering virtue seemingly cursed by evil. Criminals menace him, cowards undercut him, his wife has cancer and his entire family faces existential uncertainty.
  • The villain, O’Hanzee Dent (Zahn McClarnon), pursues our hapless couple with a devilish determination — with flames as his licking backdrop.
  • The series ends with a cryptic conversation between the Devil (Hanzee) and an unnamed character known only as ”The Book.” The Book explains that the outcome of the ordeal was never in doubt. Is that you, God?

The story of Job seems tailor-made for the Coens, because no one has ever known quite what to make of Job.

The title character of the Book of Job is a confounding figure for Christians, Muslims, Jews, and those of any faith who have tried to incorporate the story over millennia. The tale goes like this: Job is a perfectly righteous and God-fearing man whose good deeds have brought him prosperity—children, an estate, good health. But then God enters a wager with Satan, who claims he can make even goodly Job curse the deity. Soon, Job’s servants are killed. His children are killed. He is afflicted with painful boil. His life is a waking nightmare. But he refuses to curse God for what has befallen him. When he is at death’s door, God mysteriously spares him.

Similarly, Solverson refuses to surrender his belief in the good of people or the rule of law. He, too, is brought to death’s door until a mysterious savior: the Close Encounters-style UFO. In a literal Deus Ex Machina, the orb distracts a killer, allowing the hero to shoot himself out of an impossible pickle.

Much has been made of the UFO, its message, and Fargo’s larger statement about humankind’s treatment of each other.

But, like Barton Fink, Blood Simple and No Country, bafflements may be the point. The Coens love bafflements. Apparently, so does Hawley.

And, for the record, this is not a true story. Just a timeless one.

https://youtu.be/D5HDbBm6doU

Open Letter to a Puppy, Chapter IV: Running with Big Dogs


Sir Charles,

You have been home a half-year now, yet this is my first note to you solely. My apologies; you’ve kind of left me thunderstruck since your arrival.

A confession: I adopted you as a supplemental pup. I wanted Jadie to have a pal, a sibling, a guarantee that she live adorned in unapologetic love. And how you adorn.

What I hadn’t planned on was that adornment becoming integral. No, essential. And not just to your sister, but to me.

You are small (compared to Jadie): 30-pounds of car-friendly serpentine velcro that looks to anticipate — to submarine — whatever my next step. You grant me a 15-yard leash of unaccompanied movement in open spaces. Surveillance, of course, is mandated 24/7, and, to hear you tell it, isolated confinement for either of us may as well be the death penalty.

To say I don’t love every bit of that is to lie outright.

But see, Jadie was to be the velcro pup. Jadie was to be the side presence. Jadie was to be the co-pilot. And she is that. Seismically so. And you fit so well in each other’s life cockpit I will think: ’Dumbass, YOU’RE the supplemental one.’

But there’s that 24/7 surveillance thing, and you seem ever-present to correct me. I swear to god, I think you listen to me. Like, listen: You cock your head at every sound from this cavernous skull. I have few closeups of you NOT looking at me cock-eyed, like I’d just done something stupid. Wait a sec…

Anyway, the point is that you were a rogue wave, a bundle of cosmos that proved so much more once I got my Hubblehead in proper orbit.

You play in the big dog park because small dogs bore you. You fit on an ottoman you can’t help but eat. You’re too short to run fast. You have ruptured tendons and torn skin to play. But apparently all are requisite to run with the big, risky ones.

I guess you knew that long before us.

So let’s end your first note on two points.

One, you were never supplemental; dad just has vision problems.

Two, welcome to the family. It looks good on you. 

That Life Exists, and Identity.

Locked in an epic cosmic waltz 9 billion light years away, two
supermassive black holes appear to be orbiting around each
other every two years, according to NASA. The two giant bodies each have
masses that are hundreds of millions of times larger than that
of our sun, and the objects are separated by a distance
roughly 50 times that which separates our sun and Pluto.
When the pair merge in roughly 10,000 years, the titanic
collision is expected to shake space and time itself, sending
gravitational waves across the universe.