Originating in the 1890s, film was not at first taken as seriously as the more common, well-credited types of expression and leisure, like traditional literature, theatre, art, and music. Full length feature films took reign of entertainment in the 1920s, but could not move beyond the competitive money-raking stereotypes. In many cases, the imaginative potential in film seemed spent. Author of his own movie classics guide, Don Schiach confirms that “movies have had to fight long and hard to be taken as seriously as books, theatre, art objects, and music, but for the most part, that battle has been won” (10). Rarely has talent risen in film. However, on occasion, studios were able to serve multiple creative purposes, and so the Schiach-named “dream factories” were born (15). From the minds behind film development came few works of art. Many dramas, comedies, and thrillers, formed the mold of what standards people might hold today in classifying the quality in film. A movie entitled Fargo is one of these infrequent examples, as it casts a shadow over most inventive attempts at artistic cinema. It is the story of a Minnesotan used car salesman named Jerry Lundegaard, played by William H. Macy, who has gotten himself into a financial jam. After various attempts to alleviate this problem, he hires two criminals to kidnap his wife, in hopes that his wealthy father in law might pay the ransom, and that he might collect the necessary percentage. Unfortunately, Jerry is a stereotypical loser, and everything goes awry. Over the course of the film, the crime is solved by Marge Gunderson, played by Frances McDormand (IMDB). This film is an intense cinematic classic and possibly one of the best movies of its decade, yet this is not its most important claim. Fargo is the best streetwise American film to demonstrate an underlying dark, murderous conspiracy in an otherwise friendly environment. This is shown through the screenplay written by Joel and Ethan Coen, the superb acting cast of characters, and the brilliant direction of Joel Coen himself.

Firstly, the Coen brothers’ screenplay gives off a grand sense of realism. During one scene in Fargo, an accomplice to the kidnapping buries part of the ransom money on the side of a remote snow covered road in Fargo, which one twenty-eight year old Tokyo native traveled to the United States in 2003 to find. However, after much time had passed (during which her search has been assumed to have continued), her body was found face down and deceased in the freezing barren region where she thought the money was left (Berczeller 1). This might have been triggered by the beginning scripture of the film which reads, “This is a true story. The events depicted in this film took place in Minnesota in 1987” (Fargo).  Despite this claim shown on screen before the first scene, in a 2003 documentary entitled Minnesota Nice, it is openly admitted that this was a hoax. As dishonest as it might seem, it only demonstrates a supreme example of what the Coen brothers and their screen play have created. They lead the audience into thinking about a true story, so that they may be amazed by the events that occur. It enhances the emotion of every viewer to feel for the story. The Tokyo native thought it was believable enough to die trying to find the money from the film.

The screenplay also shows an awesome illustration of every character and intriguing use of comedy, drama, and thrill, to tell the story. Each character was made unique in their own way. As mentioned there was the self destructive loser, Jerry Lundegaard, who one might still root for or feel sorry for because of his extreme idiocy. Also, the lovable Marge Gunderson, who manages to maintain an adorable marriage, solve complicated murders, and capture the only perpetrator left, all while seven months pregnant. Another good example of unique Coen brothers’ characters are the two henchmen recruited by Jerry. One is a loud mouth, “funny lookin’ in sort of a general way” character who does nothing but complain and speak before he thinks; and the other a silent and mysterious, “big fella’,” who ends up being the most murderous of them all (Fargo). It is also remarkable of how detailed the story becomes. Six people are eventually killed by separate people, but all die from the same emotional cause. Despite all the heart wrenching outcomes, there are still occasional moments where laughter is the only product. Joel and Ethan Coen’s screenplay can leave a dark and humorous impression on any one who watches this film. It is no wonder that they were awarded by the Academy for best original screenplay (The Oscars).

Like the screenplay, the acting was also recognized at the Oscars in 1996. William H. Macy was nominated for best supporting actor, and Frances McDormand was nominated and honored for best leading actress (The Oscars). The sensational screenplay would have meant nothing without the portrayal by the entire cast. Their preparation and dedication greatly affected what splendid performances they gave. Frances McDormand, an experienced actress, met with an acting coach to master the mid-American accent. William H. Macy originally auditioned for a simple roll in the movie, but later auditioned for Jerry Lundegaard. In fact, after auditions in California, casting him was not definite. Macy boldly flew to New York and insisted on another audition, after which he was cast. Even Peter Storemare, who played Gaare, the silent and mysterious kidnapper, gave up his steady career in theatre while the movie was filmed. Without out the efforts and devotion of Macy, Storemare, and McDormand, the leading roles might have turned out tremendously different (Minnesota Nice).

The acting also contributed in giving the film the necessary underlying dark tone in a “Minnesota Nice” culture. Especially Steve Buscemi, who played the funny looking kidnapper, Carol, gave a superb performance. He mastered every condescending phrase and every irritable facial expression. He even was awe inspiring in the scene where he is shot in the face by Jerry Lundegaard’s father in law, Wade. As Wade presents the ransom money, Carol shoots him. Wade’s defense is to retaliate directly in Carol’s face. Carol, being the loud mouth he is, reacts by aggressively shooting Wade until he dies. Buscemi’s outrage and anger was fantastic. Joel and Ethan Coen wrote the part for Buscemi, who could not have given a more passionate and believable performance (Minnesota Nice). It was through scenes as that where the darkness invades the delight and humor of the wholesome people in Minnesota and Fargo. William H. Macy too has a landmark, yet still simple scene. He had just attempted and failed to make a deal with Wade, prior to the kidnapping, to cover his debt. The disappointed Jerry is shown slowly scraping the ice from his windshield, almost as if he were privately grieving his failure. Suddenly, the color of Macy’s face changes with subtle fury, as the pace at which he scrapes increases. He eventually begins to whack at everything, and uncharacteristically shouts. It was in scenes like this that Macy makes audiences feel empathetic and nearly cross over to the dark side to support his conspiracy, if only to see the poor man succeed just once. It was a grand mistake of the Academy Awards not to reward William H. Macy for his nomination.

Finally, the acting and screenplay might have been desecrated if the execution and direction of this movie were not topnotch, which they of course were. Two things made the direction of Joel Coen (ironic because he took part in the screenplay’s creation) astonishing. The music score and cinematography made the film something fascinating to look at, and something as equally compelling to listen to. The camera direction, ultimately chosen by Joel Coen, was worked by Roger Deakins (IMDB). Some areas of the movie were so alluring to see that it was easy to forget Fargo is fiction. In the same scene where Jerry Lundegaard’s debt relief plan is rejected by Wade, Joel went with a camera angle that probably tilted the head of viewers. First is the dumbfounded look of William H. Macy in his father in law’s office, then there is sudden change to a tundra-like landscape, which is only determined to be a parking lot by Lundegaard’s car and a few potted trees. Slowly, a tiny Lundegaard figure appears at the bottom of the shot. Without a single moving frame, Macy is shown waddling in his big coat to his car. The far away shot shows spectators how small and helpless he must feel compared to the large wintery landscape. Finally, Jerry reaches his car, and there is another quick change to the windshield scraping scene.

Another scene that brings out the more gruesome areas in the film is the scene after Gaare and Carol have kidnapped Mrs. Lundegaard. They had been driving a car with dealer plates and no tags, so they are pulled over. When Carol, the driving accomplice, is asked to step out of the car, Gaare exists his motionless silence to grab the officer’s head and murder him by shooting him at close range on the top of his head. The camera angles had been previously short and of a smooth transition. As the officer is killed and Gaare moves for the first time in twenty minutes, the shots become sharper in transition. First there is a quick shot of Gaare reaching for the officer, and then it shows Carol and the squirts of blood that drench the dashboard. The proceeding frames are again quiet. These scenes are well accompanied with the musical score originally created by Carter Burwell, and placed appropriately by Joel Coen (IMDB). Every piece is slow in tempo and even slower in beat. Mostly played by an orchestration of brass and woodwind instruments, the melody and joining harmony are dark, heavy, and carry metered notes for several counts. Coen made the choice to never use music in a scene with suspense, figuring silence might impact the audience more. However, when the darker parts of the film approach and the plot seems to be rolling without much change, the heavy hearted music chimes in. Both the scenes and the music that follow them are very much a result of the work of Joel Coen himself.

            In the end, Fargo deserves whatever recognition it can get. It is not commonly realized as a quality and outstanding film due to the fact that many people have neither seen it nor heard of it. Its acting and direction are highlighted by the crafty work of the Coen brothers, whose history in motion pictures has been under appreciated. This film is more developed, realistic, and entertaining than any other film of theirs, including The Big Lebowksi, Intolerable Cruelty, and Raising Arizona. However their wide range of comedy, drama, and thrill, make for a creative and fascinating career (IMDB). With artists to needle through what was imagined, Fargo sets a standard for future films and reweaves what past films have established as accepted criteria. America was hungry for a film to raise the bar and conditions for cinematic art, and thankfully Fargo rose to the occasion. Greatness is determined by the feeling a person gets walking out of a theatre or turning off the television set in their living rooms. If that feeling is anything less than spectacularly impressed, then the job was incomplete. This feeling can be achieved by everything that Fargo accomplishes though its beginning, middle, and end. The final impression of this movie is impressive, as it leaves viewers with something to think about. Marge Gunderson has just captured the only major character left alive besides Lundegaard and herself, Gaare. She finds him pushing is last victim, his own partner Carol, into a wood chipper. As she drives him back to her unit, she cannot help but verbally confront Gaare of his deliberate murders. She says, “So that was Mrs. Lundegaard on the floor in there. And I guess that was your accomplice in the wood chipper. And those three people in Brainerd. And for what? For a little bit of money. There's more to life than a little money, you know. Don't you know that? And here ya’ are, and it's a beautiful day. Well, I just don't understand it” (IMDB).