Fargo (1996)– 30 Years Later

 Romanian version here. 

The first time I saw Fargo was on VHS at Nae Caranfil's home. It was a memorable evening for all of us who were there. Some time had already passed since the premiere, the film had become famous (we're talking about the pre-download era, when films were still hard to get hold of), we were all devoted Coen Brothers fans, and we passionately debated the story and the mise-en-scène in a way that nowadays only happens in the excitement surrounding premieres or film festivals.

Oddly enough, Fargo was never released theatrically in Romania, so the TIFF.25 screening was a royal treat, giving you the chance to see it the way it should be seen.

Its premiere was at Cannes, in the Official Competition, where Joel Coen won the Best Director Award. Then came the Oscars (2 awards from 7 nominations). It was the Coens' Academy Award (everyone knows they direct together, although Ethan is officially credited as producer), the Best Picture of the year, and Frances McDormand's first Oscar (Best Actress—she has three now!). Who had ever seen a pregnant police heroine wearing a Siberian-style earflap hat?

Fargo- thirty years later: an absolute cult film and an ultra-influential one (#185 on the IMDb Top 250). Its biggest admirer: Noah Hawley, who in 2014 created the TV series Fargo, whose first season is directly connected to the original while also retelling it. Five seasons inspired by the Fargo universe have been produced—an anthology unlike anything television had ever seen.

The poster is brilliant, embroided on a hoop, with the words "A homespun murder story" stitched in red. The title comes from the town of Fargo, North Dakota, on the border with Minnesota, where the events are supposed to take place, marketed as a true story—but of course that's another Coen Brothers gimmick, and everything is invented. It's winter, there's a blizzard, there's snow, and the South Dakota/Minnesota accents are absolutely wonderful. All the characters have Nordic names, just like the origins of the area's inhabitants (Gustafson, Gunderson, Lundegaard). William H. Macy is a sad and utterly pathetic figure, the car salesman who sets an absurd domino effect in motion.

Two of the Coens' longtime collaborators make a major contribution to this unique universe. Roger Deakins' cinematography condenses this immense white landscape, while Carter Burwell's score adds a sense of space and drama; it was later used as the theme for the television series.

But without the Steve Buscemi/Peter Stormare tandem, the film would be in vain...

"I'm going crazy down there at the lake." Ja.

Alin Ludu Dumbravă

This article was published in Aperitiff | June 12, 2026