​And it’s a beautiful day: the Coen brothers’ “Fargo” 30 years later

By Blaise Balas

As many Fargoans will tell you, it is almost vanishingly rare that our town gets any kind of major recognition, let alone placement in a movie. Movies are reserved for New York, Chicago, Boston — you know, the big places. This is a rule to which there is one Oscar-winning exception: the Coen brothers’ 1996 masterpiece “Fargo.” Not only is the film named for our fine city, it was internationally recognized, won multiple awards and endures as a classic to this day. But that kind of thing can be a double-edged sword. If one movie shapes an outsider’s idea of our part of the world, does it say what we want it to? And, perhaps more importantly, is it accurate in its depiction, even if not especially kind?

Many people remember “Fargo” as a funny movie, if not quite a comedy. Everyone knows about the infamous woodchipper — which can be found at the Fargo-Moorhead Visitors Center — but for most people, it’s about the accents, the heroic Marge Gunderson and the inherent insanity of a man hiring people to kidnap his own wife. And with the exception of the woodchipper, the thing that people tend to forget about is the violence. A total of seven people die in the film — often in incredibly ruthless and impersonal ways — and rarely related directly to the central crime.

The criminals, played by Steve Buschemi and Peter Stormare, are ruthlessly violent and distinctly psychopathic in their own individual ways. “Fargo” is an unforgivingly tragic movie, dead set on showcasing the darkness underneath the bright snow and the reassuring “you betcha” refrain. Despite the bleakness, however, “Fargo” endures as an American masterpiece and has not lost its unsettling appeal over the past three decades.

The thing that cements “Fargo” as an undeniable classic is how unflinching it is. The tagline on the poster accurately reads, “a homespun murder story.” “Fargo” is a tale about the worst kind of thing happening to the best kind of people. It’s about how that nice salesman at the car dealership hires violent criminals to kidnap his wife so that he can get a little money. It’s about a phenomenon that is truly Midwestern, but also American. It’s about what it means to be Midwest Nice.

Now, Midwest Nice (or Minnesota Nice) is a common term with some complexity. It’s not meant to communicate actual niceness. Rather, real and true Midwest Nice is someone who will say lovely, passive aggressive things to your face or over the phone and then not actually help you with anything when you need it. It is the imaginary idea that Midwesterners help people because that’s what they do out there, dontcha know, a flimsy reputation more than anything else. And that idea of Midwest Nice is so perfectly shown in “Fargo.”

Jerry Lundegaard “Oh, ya, you betchas” his way through stealing a car from his own lot. The Coens script a scathing indictment of the American tendency to dismiss small and rural areas as nice and quiet no matter how the people there really behave. “Fargo” paints an unflattering picture of rural America that is not entirely inaccurate, just exaggerated to the extreme. But that kind of murky gloom needs an antidote, and “Fargo” finds its light in Frances McDormand’s Marge Gunderson.

Chief Gunderson is kind, resourceful and tough as nails. She is, in many ways, what the Midwest is meant to be. She is every stereotype that New Yorkers apply to North Dakota. She is the hero “Fargo” needs. Marge Gunderson helps people. It’s what she does. She is nice and polite and doesn’t want to bother you, but she really does need to know whether someone stole a car off this lot and that there was a call to your house that night and you don’t want to violate your parole, now do ya?

Marge contributes to the film’s status by restoring our faith in humanity following horrific homicide after horrific homicide. She is here to do her job, and she is here to do it well. “Fargo” is an American gothic and Marge Gunderson is its American hero, an upstanding police chief who is seven months into a pregnancy and absolutely up to a task no one else in the film could possibly accomplish.

The effect of “Fargo” on the actual town of Fargo, North Dakota is complicated, to say the least. The movie does not take place in Fargo and was not filmed here. The movie obviously exaggerates the number of violent crimes that occur in and around the greater Fargo area. But the Coens chose to name the film after us, linking their cinematic universe to our town. As such, “Fargo” is a perfect choice as the first movie selected for the Fargo Theatre’s Centennial Film Series. As a real treat, the Tuesday, April 14 screening will be attended by special guest Peter Stormare, better known as the terrifying Gaear Grimsrud.

“In many ways, the film and television series helped put our community on the map,” says Fargo Theatre Executive Director Emily Beck. “They have certainly generated interest in tourism and been instrumental in shaping our regional identity in pop culture. I think the way our community has embraced the film demonstrates that we have a great sense of humor and don’t take ourselves too seriously.”

“Fargo” presents a complex picture of our region but it has become a vital part of a local culture that can recognize both the worst parts of itself in Jerry Lundegaard — and more importantly, the best parts of itself in Chief Marge Gunderson. Because even driving in a blizzard while talking to a violent criminal, Marge says that it’s a beautiful day. And she’s right.