It is easy to answer the question as to how much impact directors Joel and Ethan Coen's Fargo has had on pop culture 20 years later. One merely has to turn on a TV and see the great series of the same name, which has expanded upon the most unlikely of crossover universes. What started off as a homespun murder mystery and the endearing pregnant cop Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand) has evolved to being a highlight of Midwestern film making that subverted noir with niceness and a whole lot of sketchy violence. It has helped tourism and cinema alike, serving as the duo's most iconic film in a career that hasn't stopped pumping out gems. They may never make a film as singular as Fargo ever again, and that's not too much of a gosh darn problem.
Like most films of the time, Fargo opened with "Based on a True Story." Depending on your willingness to buy into cinema's endless possibilities, the false advertising could be a great joke on neo-noir of the past. The duo weren't new to crime dramas, notably going back to Miller's Crossing and Blood Simple. However, Fargo felt like a departure from the cutthroat dramas of their past. This was going to be the moment where they finally began to make fun of the tropes by taking noir where it rarely had gone before: the Midwest. For most of noir's rich history, it has resided along coastlines in California with miserable Humphrey Bogart types talking in stylized dialogue as seductive women took them off the scent. Add in the familiar black and white claustrophobia and you'll begin to understand how structurally, Fargo is both a loving continuation of noir as it is a satire.
At the core is the pregnant do-gooder Marge Gunderson, whose North Dakotan accent is rich with plenty of "Oh yeahs," and "You betchas." With two criminals from out of town (Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare) running into a series of problems in the city, Gunderson hunts them down with her homemade sweetness. She only wishes to see the best in people, and thus is quick to assume the best in people. Considering the cynical, violent, and impatient nature of Buscemi (in his career's best role), the film plays like as if the dour noir came to visit a nicer film where the black darkness is replaced with white snow, and the criminals (specifically a car dealer played by William H. Macy) aren't as bright as those west coast fellas. The Fargo TV series would do better to make its characters smart. In the film, they're mostly caught up in a series of absurd situations that eventually turns everyone on each other.
What is likely the most iconic thing about Fargo is the lingo. With already humble personalities, the upbeat colloquialism already makes Fargo, North Dakota feel like a foreign landscape and the furthest from gritty crime that you could possibly think. It may be borderline caricature, but The Coen Brothers manage to strike a line between parody and earnestness that unveils just how pure and innocent the citizens really are. Even Marge is largely pure of heart, not even buying into the cynical revenge fantasies that some would have following the murders. When she gives a monologue about justice, it feels like something enriched in the simple-minded attitudes of people surrounded by snow. By the end, it really makes you wonder if the violence was all worth it.
But why does Fargo manage to remain so popular, even among the less die hard fans who are quick to nitpick The Big Lebowski or No Country For Old Men? It probably has to do with how it condenses its subject and finds humanity through uncompromising dark humor. The creative executions by which certain characters meet their end have gone on to be shared pop culture knowledge. It helps that the voices are so catchy and whimsical, finally giving audiences something to mock humble people besides drawn out southern accents. It could also be that it ends up being a straightforward tale of good triumphing over evil. Marge is such a compelling character that it is easy to overlook her simplicity.
Yet the reason that Fargo likely has remained as vital is because it satirizes a genre so effectively that nobody could do the same without plagiarism accusations. In a time where films like The Silence of the Lambs and Se7en were frightening audiences, Fargo did the same thing - but with a mean streak of dark humor and the least intimidating accents imaginable. It was the perfect alternative to a decade rich with serial killer imagery as well as coming at a time when traditional noir films were fading entirely from relevance. Even if The Coen Brothers wear unorthodox like a hat, they still managed to come up with something provocative and fun thanks to taking the darkest genre to the brightest locations.
Fargo is a film that still feels fresh and likely has more influence than ever before. It would be impossible to think of any dark humor crime show (such as Breaking Bad) that doesn't owe some debt to the satirical, conventions defying logic of Fargo. It was stylish, beautiful, and showed that while everything in film had been done before, very little has actually been done in the center of America. There have been a few who have helped to make Midwest cinema more recognizable (see: Alexander Payne), but nobody does it quite like The Coen Brothers, who are constantly eager to prod their characters into uncomfortable situations while laughing at them. It's pretty much why this film embodies their career, which would only blend genres and ideas more heavily in the decades to come.
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