I can't properly articulate how badly I wanted Fargo to come back—and be good. After a disappointing, narratively messy fourth season and a subsequent three-year hiatus, I was itching for a season worthy of the second and third seasons' violent, dark, and beautiful stories about communication, connection, and rejection of nihilism. Noah Hawley's anthology reimagining of the Coen brothers's crime-and-punishment classic had been hitting three for four, but considering its only miss was its most recent outing, I was just a little worried that season five would be another off year.
With just the opening shot of "The Tragedy of the Commons," it's clear that Fargo is back. Minnesota housewife Dot Lyon (Juno Temple) is in the middle of a PTA riot, and all around her are embodiments of the series' main theme: the failure of communication. There's never an explanation as to why the fight happened, but its consequences loom over the episode. If the riot doesn't happen, Dot doesn't tase a cop in the confusion. If she isn't arrested by deputy Indira Olmstead (Richa Moorjani) and her fingerprints aren't put in the system, her estranged husband Roy Tillman (Jon Hamm) can't find her. This breakdown of understanding uproots Dot's life—a life that, as we come to learn, is based in nothing.
The sequence where quiet but hyper-competent criminal Ole Munch (Sam Spruell) and his less competent henchman break into Dot's house is pure Fargo magic. The slow build of tension as they follow her trail upstairs; the payoff of her getting the jump on one of the criminals and scorching his face; the excellent shots of her tumbling down the stairs and of the criminals looming over her with smoke framing the scene—all of it is just fantastic to watch.
Even better is the episode's ending, where Dot escapes and holes up in a convenience store with the friendly but outmatched state deputy Witt Farr (Lamorne Morris), wounding Munch and killing his partner. The dark comedy is great (the station's clerk tries to attack Munch with an airhorn and is shot without being looked at) and the shots and lighting look awesome, while Dot's silent characterization through her careful planning and resourcefulness is fun to watch. Every element of this very long scene works overtime to create a gripping experience.
It helps that every role feels perfectly cast. Morris and Moorjani bring a palpable likability to their characters, Temple and Spruell bring different kinds of quiet menace, Hamm brings outright menace, and his incompetent son and deputy Gator (Joe Keery) gets by on simply being the best character. After his ridiculously fun and silly performance in 2020's Spree, I was more excited to see Keery in a Fargo role than I was anyone else, and he pays off in dividends with his unearned swagger and inability to do anything. The performance is pure whiny charisma.
Both father and son are excellent characters, in fact. Sheriff Tillman establishes himself as a threat as soon as the second episode opens, trying to have Munch put down for letting Dot escape. (His mistake was sending Gator to do it—Munch snaps his wrist and kills the other men sent to take him out.) When the FBI grills him about not enforcing local law, he lectures them about the ludicrousness of some of said laws. For Tillman, morality is flexible, and the way Hamm sells this idea makes his monologue amongst my favorite scenes in the series thus far.
After an action-packed first episode, the second plays its cards close to the vest but plays them well. Gator tries to stop the police from investigating the gas station shooting, Tillman moons the FBI while chilling in his hot tub, and Dot feuds with her conservative mother-in-law Lorraine (Jennifer Jason Leigh). In a two-parter full of outstanding performances, Leigh stands with Hamm and Keery as one of the best with her pettiness and outright hatred for Dot. Her pushover husband Wayne (David Rysdahl) also makes a good addition to the cast. The shot where he and Dot debate about her rigging their house with traps is just another example of Fargo's immaculate visual storytelling—he is reflected in the microwave, while she's shown in the window, underscoring how he sees no threat and yet she sees the one always looming outside.
And this season seems really political, too. Last season's commentary on America's economy resting on the backs of immigrants was depressingly poignant but ultimately muddled, so season five solves this problem by making its ideas almost glaringly broad. I debated with my father over which conservative politician's family holiday card the show was mocking by having the Lyons pose with firearms before the Christmas tree, and I would imagine that's kind of the point. The general attorney's ravings about the need for protection, Dot taking up this idea herself, and her and Tillman's rather traditional views on marriage. Fargo has been a somewhat political show since season two, and while I prefer solid to meandering, my only major problem with its return is that they don't feel as seamlessly woven into the story as they were in the second and third seasons.
But it's back. It's back! And it's fantastic! When this show is really good, it's amongst the best on television, and seeing it prove why that's the case was such a delight. The tight storytelling, the funny characters, the innovative shots, the awesome dialogue, it's all there. All that's left is to watch it all fall apart, because it always does, and it's always exciting.
These episodes of Fargo are now available to stream on Hulu.
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