Anyone watch it yet?
I’ve only watched the first half hour so please, NO SPOILERS!
Generally speaking, is it as good as everyone says it is?
I mean, so far, it seems like bad police work but as far as the show goes, its not blowing me away so far, though like I said, I haven’t seen much of it.
Does it get better?
All is forgiven for Mortdecai, Johnny. All is forgiven.
I’d announce SPOILERS though all this stuff actually happened! BQB here with a review of Black Mass.
“If nobody sees it, then it didn’t happen.”
So goes the advice of infamous Irish mobster James “Whitey” Bulger to his young son after he got in trouble for punching another kid at school. It’s a line delivered so eerily that it sets the whole tone of the movie.
It gives the viewer insight into just the kind of guy Whitey is. Most parents would tell their kid not to punch anyone. Whitey tells his to just make sure no one’s looking before he punches someone the next time.
Step aside Tony Soprano, as this true crime gangster flick shows Whitey as one cold, calculating sociopathic serial killer, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake during his tenure as the boss of an organized crime family known as the Winter Hill Gang in South Boston from the 1970s to the 1990’s.
I was a fan of The Sopranos and the ongoing theme of that show was that Tony often felt bad about his crimes. Of course, that didn’t stop him from being a murderer, but after the dirty deed, he’d feel bad, overeat, not sleep and walk around in his bathrobe and get so depressed that he’d need to go spill his guts to his confidant/ shrink Dr. Melfi.
Whitey, on the other hand – SPOILER – is able to strangle a hooker then take a nap and have dinner afterwards.
In one of the saddest turn of events in modern law enforcement history, FBI agent John Connolly struck a deal to use Bulger as an informant, but as we see in the movie, John becomes less concerned about justice and more about helping Whitey, his childhood friend, not to mention getting some extra gifts on the side.
Meanwhile, Whitey plays the FBI like a fiddle. He gives them info needed to take down a rival Italian crime family moving in on his turf, but after that, pretty much feeds them bupkis.
If this sounds familiar, you might recall 2006’s The Departed, which was somewhat based on Whitey’s reign of terror.
I’ve always felt The Departed was one of the best gangster flicks I’ve ever seen and this one does meet it.
Johnny Depp solidifies his reputation as an actor who can become anyone. He plays the ruthless yet somewhat quiet Whitey to a T and is barely recognizable on screen.
To complicate matters, Whitey’s brother was William Bulger, President of the Massachusetts Senate.
Benedict Cumberbatch plays the South Boston politician well, delivering a powerful speech about how he’ll drive crime out of South Boston just as St. Patrick drove the Romans and British out of Ireland.
Ironic, given who his brother was.
What did William know about his brother, when, and what was his involvement? Those are questions left on the table, though the film takes the standpoint that Billy basically suffered from being tied to a degenerate brother.
Can’t pick your family I guess.
Joel Edgerton turns in an excellent performance as Connolly, the fast talking Fed who always has a comeback ready to explain to his boss (played by Kevin Bacon) as to why Whitey’s being allowed to jerk the FBI around for his own personal gain.
Jesse Plemons (aka Creepy Todd from Breaking Bad) plays another creep, Whitey’s associate Kevin Weeks. Poor Jesse’s stuck playing creeps I guess.
Adam Scott (known for comedic roles such as his part as Leslie Knope’s husband, Ben Wyatt on Parks and Rec) makes his first notable foray into drama as a Fed who’s suspicious of Connolly.
Overall, it’s a solid cast. I could go into more detail, but I’d end up giving the rest of the story away.
Did Whitey win? If you’re a news watcher, you know he went on the lam in the 1990’s after being tipped off by Connolly to an impending arrest, only to be caught in Santa Monica in 2011.
You might say justice was finally found. Then again, Whitey was in his 80’s when he was nabbed so, he did get to live out his retirement years.
This is one of the first major Oscar contenders of the year and cements Depp as one of the greatest actors of our time.
If he takes home a gold statue for this, he will have earned it.
PREVIOUSLY ON POP CULTURE MYSTERIES…
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
AND NOW THE POP CULTURE MYSTERIES CONTINUE…
I turned around to find two latinos, gangsters presumably.
I’d like to note I didn’t assume they were gangsters just because they were latino, but rather because of the heaters they were carrying.
Sorry, but Ms. Donnelly has advised me I have to be specific about these things so as to not upset today’s modern reader 
(even though I only have 3.5 of them).
The one in the middle, the leader I presumed, was carrying a .45 Magnum. That caliber of gun didn’t exist back in my day, but I’d seen them in a few movies over the past year and had been dying to get my hands on one of them.
(Not that it could ever replace Betsy, of course.)
The man in charge wore a long checkered shirt and he pulled a pair of sunglasses to the top of his head so he could stare the wannabe Rastafarian in the eye.
“Fernando! So good to see you. I was just about to call you.”
“Myron, you dumbass. I can’t believe you’re still here.”
To Fernando’s right was a giant ox of a man, more like Mount Everest with eyes than anything.
“Told you, boss.”
“You did,” Fernando said as he pulled out a big bulging billfold. He pulled off a twenty-spot and handed it to his associate.
“Brujo and I had a bet,” Fernando explained. “I said there was no way you’d be stupid enough to still be here after that shit you and your boy pulled on Diego and Brujo said you were, in fact, that stupid.”
“Guys,” Myron said. “Can we all just take a deep breathe, have a seat, and talk about this? I’ll put on a pot of coffee and we’ll really hash this thing out. Whaddya say?”
“I say you start telling me why you were dumb enough to sell Diego a bag of baby powder for ten grand and think there wouldn’t be any consequences.”
Fernando looked at me.
“Who’re you?”
“Looks like a cop,” Brujo said.
The situation called for some fast thinking. Luckily, there wasn’t a private dick in LA with a speedier brain than mine.
“Nah,” I said. “Nah, I ‘aint no cop, see?”
I relinquished my grip on Myron’s neck, allowing him to stand freely. I gripped Wanda’s handle and propped her barrels up against my shoulder.
Gangsters. Sixty years since I’d been in the game and their modus operandi hadn’t changed a bit. One bad guy hoodwinks another bad guy. One bad guy says another bad guy owes him money and threatens to outfit him for a pair of cement shoes. It’s the same old song and dance number.
“This numbskull flim flammed my boss too, see?”
“What?” Myron protested. “That’s a lie!”
I backhanded Myron across the mouth. “Shut your piehole ya’ mook ya or there’s another one where that came from!”
“Shit Myron,” Fernando said with a grin. “You and Craig are the two dumbest white boys in town. Who’d you piss off now?”
Crickets. Myron kept his mouth shut.
“Whose your boss?” Fernando asked.
“What’re you writing a book or something?”
Fernando looked at Brujo.
“One-eyed Frank.”
“That’s it,” Fernando said as he gestured toward me with his piece. “One-eyed Frank is so paranoid he always tells his people to keep their mouths shut.”
Sometimes being a private dick means making a split-second decision and running with it, letting the chips fall where they may.
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I work for One-eyed Frank. Franky the Cyclops we call him. What’s it to you?”
Fernando grabbed me by the neck and Brujo pressed the cold steel of his .45 up against my jaw.
“I hate One-eyed Frank. Him and all you racist Aryan Brotherhood expletive deleted…”
BQB EDITORIAL NOTE: I try to keep this blog PG-13, but if you must know, Jake’s original unedited case file stated that Fernando accused the Aryan Brotherhood of fornicating with their mothers.
“I ought to blow your head off right now, chop you up and send you back to that eyepatch wearing expletive deleted…
BQB EDITORIAL NOTE: More alleged mother fornication.
“…in pieces.”
I’d made a mistake by saying I worked for One-eyed Frank without knowing who he was, but it was too late to back peddle.
Aryans. Modern day Nazis. As the 3.5 readers of this series are aware, there’s no one who hates Nazis more than yours truly.
Come to think of it, punching Adolf Hitler in the face had been the greatest accomplishment of my life so far, even though my own government had sworn me to secrecy on the details of Operation Fuhrerpunschen.
So I didn’t like being accused of being one of those sickos, but I wasn’t in a position to argue.
Fernando let me go and backed off.
“Ahh, but the last thing Diego wants is a war. I kill one of Frank’s guys, he kills one of ours, it all turns into a whole thing. Who has time for it?”
“I’ve never met this man in my life and I don’t know anyone named Frank, one eye or two eyes or whatever,” Myron added.
I slapped Myron again. I was starting to enjoy it.
“What did I tell you jerk-o? Keep yer yapper shut or I’ll shut it for you, see?”
“Is that true?” Fernando asked. “Are you bullshitting me now?”
“Nah,” I said. “This guy’s a degenerate liar, see? Sold One-eyed Frank a bag of baby butt powder and told him it was one hundred percent pure snow. Frank’s madder than a mental patient and out for blood. Of course this turkey won’t admit it.”
Fernando tucked his hand cannon into his waistband, then grabbed Myron’s hand and slammed it down on the nightstand.
Brujo flipped open a butterfly knife.
In Myron’s eyes, I could see an ungodly fear.
“All right, check it out,” Fernando said to me. “Diego wants his head but it’s cool if you want to take a few fingers back to Frank as proof that Myron’s dead. How many you want?”
“Guys, I just want to make it clear that Craig and I realize the error of our ways and if you give us some more time, I’m sure we could come up with a payment plan that would satisfy…”
“Shut up,” Fernando said. “Start choppin’ Brujo.”
“Eh,” I said as I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t need this galoot’s digits, boys. Frank trusts me. You two have fun. I’ll get out of your hair.”
I whistled a jaunty tune as I walked out of Myron’s bedroom and made my way to the door.
It felt like justice to me. Myron was obviously an imbecile who’d nosedived into the criminal underworld without a true understanding of its rules, or rather, lack thereof. He was about to learn the hard way that the only rule is that if you piss of the wrong guy, you’re going to end up fish food. (Or worm food, depending if you’re buried at sea or in the ground.)
But then, as I put my hand on the knob, I heard Myron scream not like the man he was physically, but the little boy he was inside.
Sometimes it’s not easy being the good guy. Being on the right side of the law means never leaving a man behind, even if he’s a poor excuse for one.
I walked back into the bedroom just as Brujo was about to slice off Myron’s thumb.
“Say fellas…”
The gangsters turned to me.
“I was just thinking, old Myron here is the only one who knows where Craig is and if we hack him to ribbons before he spills the beans then Craig might walk scott free and I don’t know about Diego but Frank sure won’t be happy.”
“He’s got a point,” Brujo advised Fernando.
“Talk,” Fernando said. “Where’s Craig?”
“OK! OK!” Myron said as his eyes streamed tears. “He’s at…”
Sweet Mitzi Gaynor’s garter belt, this kid held less water than thimble.
I wanted to catch Craig myself, not invite Mr. Medium and Mr. Extra-Large to carve him up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
“Here, let me at him!”
I walked over to the window, opened it up, then grabbed Myron by his dreadlocks and dragged him over.
“Tell us where Henneman is or out you go!”
“Oh shit,” Fernando said. “Frank’s boy is hardcore!”
“I’m trying to tell you!” Myron squealed. “He’s hiding out at…”
Like I said, sometimes being a private dick means making a split-second decision, running with it and letting the chips fall where they may.
The human mind had an uncanny ability to explain away the unexplainable. All day long, I’d been telling myself that my throat hadn’t really been cut the night before, that I’d dreamt the whole thing.
But I knew pain and I knew it really happened.
If I could live through having my neck opened up like a Pez dispenser, then that was certainly an advantage, to say the least.
It was time to stop denying my immortality and start embracing it.
To this day, I don’t know why I did it, but I scooped Myron up in a bear hug, turned around, and hurled us both out of a twelve story window.
The things I do just to keep myself from becoming a bad guy.
Copyright (2015) Bookshelf Q. Battler.
All Rights Reserved.
Image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.
Steve Carrell. Channing Tatum. Mark Ruffalo.
And so many scantily clad dudes rolling around on the floor that I swear I caught Aunt Gertie staring at the screen just a little too longingly.
Bookshelf Q. Battler here after FINALLY having had the chance to catch last year’s Foxcatcher.
I’m loathe to use the word “SPOILERS” for a film about a horrific crime that’s nearly 20 years old but honestly, while I’d generally heard about the case, I didn’t know the specifics until I began reading about the film. If you’d like to find out on your own as you watch, you might want to rent it first and then read this review later.
Movieclips Trailers – Foxcatcher – Sony Pictures
Wealth. For some it’s a blessing. For others it’s a curse.
Throughout history, there have been people who have been born into great circumstances, their lives preordained before they even opened their eyes and took a look at the world for the first time.
Some individuals take the vast resources at their disposal and do their families proud, achieving new levels of greatness.
Others party hearty and are destined to become paparazzi fodder.
In the middle, there are folks who enjoy their riches, coast along and somehow manage to make jackasses of themselves.
Then there’s John du Pont. Heir to a massive chemical company fortune, he’s an odd duck to say the least. He’s socially awkward, almost painfully so. It’s like he knows what he wants to say but has a hard time expressing himself, assumably because he’s lived such a sheltered life.
The majority of the film takes place in the late 1980’s, when du Pont is in his late fifties. He lives on a sprawling estate which he dubs Foxcatcher Farm, fox hunting having been a popular activity for well-to-do visitors to the grounds.
The movie makes it clear – du Pont believes himself to be a great man and he wants the rest of the world to agree. He doesn’t really want to do anything to achieve that goal. He just wants to spend large sums of money and purchase the acclaim he believes he deserves.
At the heart of his need for glory? A rivalry with his mother Jean (played by one of the few remaining Old Hollywood stars Vanessa Redgrave) leaves him with a burning desire to prove his worth to her.
One gets the impression that the rivalry is one sided. Jean trains show horses on the estate and proudly displays her trophies in the family mansion. du Pont envies the horses and wants his mother’s attention. Despite being almost 60 years old, he’s like a little kid yearning for Mommy’s approval.
Meanwhile, brothers David (Mark Ruffalo) and Mark (Channing Tatum) Schultz have each won an Olympic gold medal for wrestling. Keep in mind we’re talking about real wrestling, the kind that involves knowledge of various moves and techniques, and not the scripted garbage on Monday night.
From the film, it’s clear the brothers have a deep love and admiration of one another, but while David has found happiness with a loving wife and family, Mark is alone, living on ramen noodles in a tiny house and at the start of the film, earning a twenty dollar gratuity for speaking at an elementary school (it’s made obvious that Mark needs that twenty bucks).
Mark feels that even though he’s earned his notoriety, anything he does is overshadowed by his brother. If he has success, the public attributes it to David’s mentorship of Mark and not Mark himself. Mark wants to accomplish something on his own, and to make matters worse, he needs money.
Enter du Pont with a miraculous offer for the Schultz brothers. du Pont wants them to come to his estate, select a wrestling team, train themselves to compete in the upcoming 1988 Olympic Games in Seoul and train their team mates while they’re at it. He’ll pay them and give them houses on his property to live in for free.
David, not wanting to uproot his family, isn’t interested. Mark, seeing a chance to break out of his brother’s shadow, takes the deal.
And for awhile he excels at Foxcatcher.
But alas, it is an understatement to say that du Pont is weird.
He insists that people refer to him as “America’s Golden Eagle.” He orchestrates a large awards ceremony for himself, and in a sad commentary about society, it’s well-attended by the rich and the powerful. He wants to be a wrestler too and organizes a senior citizen wrestling competition, only to pay off his geriatric competitor to take a dive.
That’s not all. du Pont purchases a tank with the ease that one might order a book from Amazon. When it arrives, he throws a fit that it doesn’t include a 50-caliber machine gun as promised and refuses to sign for the shipment.
He snorts cocaine with reckless abandon, takes his helicopter everywhere, and its not-so-subtly implied that his generosity towards the sport of wrestling might have been a front to allow him to roll around with young sweaty men.
Throughout his Pennsylvania community, du Pont is known as a gracious benefactor, a man who doles out the cash just so he can be a part of everything. The local police department practice on his shooting range and he shoots guns alongside them.
Poor and crazy? You’re crazy. Rich and crazy? You’re eccentric. Not to fault the movie, but if you perform a web search on du Pont, you’ll come up with an endless supply of allegations, many of which weren’t portrayed in the film. That’s not a knock on the film at all. It’s just that the man was so nuts that there just wasn’t enough time to capture it all on screen:
Some of the allegations I was able to find on the web that weren’t featured in the film:
Again, there wasn’t just enough time in the movie, but the film more than manages to portray the fact that the man just was not right in the head.
Steve Carrell is no stranger to playing characters who aren’t exactly grounded in reality. After all, he played the dimwitted bumbling boss Michael Scott on The Office for years. But while Scott’s antics were relatively harmless, du Pont’s instability is (and as we see later) a disaster waiting to happen.
Barely recognizable under gray hair and a large prosthetic nose, Carrell earns his Oscar nomination as he plays du Pont, capturing his overall style of a hopelessly depressed ego-maniac slash elderly man child.
If I keep going, I’ll give too much of the film away. It climaxes when du Pont, spurred on by his ongoing desire to achieve greatness (by letting others earn it for him) makes David an offer he can’t refuse to come be part of the Foxcatcher wrestling program. Mark, who’s been sucked into du Pont’s unhealthy drugging lifestyle, feels betrayed by du Pont (at one point du Pont tells Mark he understands and supports his desire to win on his own), that he’s lost his chance to win without his brother’s help, not to mention he’s under intense pressure from du Pont to succeed.
Later, Ruffalo as David makes a face as if he’s losing his soul when a documentary film maker du Pont has hired to produce a glowing film about himself asks David to say du Pont is his mentor. David is perhaps the most genuinely lovable character of the whole film, caring for his family, concerned for his brother’s well-being and at a crucial moment in the film, stands up to du Pont on Mark’s behalf.
SPOILER ALERT (Again, I hate using that term here but I have no idea what else to say.)
After losing in the 1988 Olympic games, Mark leaves the Foxcatcher program and the film ends with du Pont driving his car to David’s house.
Here’s the scary part. I’ve known for years that du Pont shot David Schultz just because it was a well-known, highly reported on crime. And I’ve been reading more about it since the movie came out.
Yet, even though I knew it was coming, I just wasn’t prepared for it and was startled anyway. While David is standing in his driveway, du Pont pulls up, asks, “Do you have a problem with me?” then shoots David.
An employee riding with du Pont who had no idea what his boss was up to tries to stop him. David’s wife comes out of the house and du Pont points his gun at her, sending her back in the house.
David struggles to crawl to safety but du Pont shoots him twice more in the back then drives back to his house to hole up.
The expressionless face, the clear lack of interest in the gravity of what he’s done…Carrell as du Pont arguably portrays a villain in that short moment that rivals Hannibal Lecter.
But while Lecter made it clear he wants to eat you, du Pont is one of those people who seems off, but no one realized just how off he was or what he was capable of until it was too late.
Accounts I’ve read online typically describe the situation in that du Pont was known throughout his community as being an oddball but his antics seemed harmless and people were happy to take advantage of the generous donations he offered, thus placating his bad behavior while failing to realize he was a ticking time bomb all along.
One can’t help but feel sorry for the Schultz brothers throughout the film. Olympic wrestlers are in a tough position. They’re paid no money to train and yet have to a) train all day in order to compete and b) still somehow find a source of income to pay their bills.
A benefactor swoops in and offers to pay them a salary and gives them houses on his estate to live in while they practice the sport they love?
Hell, be honest. You’d ignore the tank too.
If you’re interested in reading more about the case, here are two articles I found helpful:
CNN – “Foxcatcher – The Crazy du Pont Next Door” – Reporter Ann O’Neil discusses what her childhood was like living near the Foxcatcher Estate
A Millionaire Madman Murdered My Olympic Champion Brother – Jane Ridley, New York Post. Mark Schultz provides his account of the tragic loss of his brother.
BASIC BOOKTOMETRICS
TITLE: Fletch
Author: Gregory McDonald
Publisher: Vintage Crime/Black Lizard
Publication Dates: First Published 1974; Published 2002 by Vintage Crime/Black Lizard
GENRE: Crime/Mystery/Humor
FORMAT REVIEWED: Paperback
NUMBER OF PAGES: 197
I have a new hero. His name is the late, great Gregory McDonald.
There are some books that are giant, unrelenting tomes. You break your back carrying such books around and yet despite the voluminous number of pages, the story goes nowhere.
Then there’s Fletch. In a little under 200 pages, McDonald, in his streamlined, use one word instead of ten, writing style manages to successfully provide the reader with a story about an anti-hero who solves not one but two complex mysteries.
If you’re old enough to remember the Reagan administration, then you may have seen the Fletch movies by Chevy Chase – Fletch and the sequel, Fletch Lives. Both were funny and gave Chase his moment in the sun. Sadly, after reading the novel, I’ve realized that the movies were really only loosely based on McDonald’s work. The films served as a vehicle for Chase to show off his multiple character talents. For some reason, the epitome of the gold star for a comic is to star in a movie where he gets the chance to do various accents and pretend to be all different varieties of people. As movie Fletch, Chevy puts on all kinds of goofy costumes and buffoons his way through solving crimes while tricking people into giving information to the various personas he takes on.
If you lived during the 80’s, you’ll remember Fletch. Also, Destro.
The novel is a bit different. Make no mistake, on top of everything else, it is funny. But while the movies were zany funny, the novel could probably be described best as a dark comedy. The reader finds himself laughing at things that he probably should not laugh at in polite society.
The plot? Fletch’s real name is Irwin Maurice, or I.M. (I am) Fletcher. He’s an LA based reporter posing undercover as a bum, trying to trick various beach dwelling hoodlums into helping him find the supplier of a constant flow of drugs to the beach scene for a story he’s writing.
His cover is so good that he fools wealthy business executive Alan Stanwyck into thinking that he’s merely a degenerate drifter. Stanwyck picks up Fletch and makes him the following proposition, which I’ll post below so you can get an idea of the quick-draw, rapid fire pace at which McDonald writes:
What’s your name?”
“Fletch”
“What’s your full name?”
“Irwin. Irwin Fletcher. People call me Fletch.”
“Irwin Fletcher, I have a proposition to make to you. I will give you a thousand dollars for just listening to it. If you decide to reject the proposition, you take the thousand dollars, go away, and never tell anyone we talked.”
“Is it criminal?”
“Of course.”
“Fair enough. For a thousand bucks I can listen. What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to murder me.”
Fletch said, “Sure.”
Stanwyck claims to have terminal cancer and offers Fletch $50,000 to return to a week and shoot him in his study. He tells Fletch this will allow him to avoid suffering through a prolonged, agonizing death and as it will appear like a burglary gone bad, his wife will obtain a hefty insurance payment. Fletch may be a degenerate (he is haunted by his two ex-wives’ divorce lawyers throughout the novel) but he’s no dummy. Refusing to take Stanwyck at his word, he sets out on an investigation to find out whether or not Stanwyck is telling the truth. By posing as various people (insurance investigators, lawyers, “old long lost friends,” etc.) he manages to trick the people in Stanwyck’s life to give up the dirt. In the process, he even discovers the source of drugs on the beach along the way.
I really enjoyed this book. If you’ve seen the movie, you haven’t experienced the full story. It amazes me that in such a short novel, McDonald manages to provide the reader with a rich, in-depth experience. Rarely do I read a novel and want to read the series, but I think I might actually do it with this one. In case you are interested in the reading order for the Fletch novel series, I’ll post it below.
Note that while Fletch was McDonald’s first novel published introducing the Fletch character, he also published prequels, so Fletch is not the first novel in chronological order.
Reading Order for the Fletch Series of Novels by Gregory McDonald
Fletch Won
Fletch, Too
Fletch and the Widow Bradley
Fletch
Carioca Fletch
Confess, Fletch
Fletch’s Fortune
Fletch’s Moxie
Fletch and the Man Who
Son of Fletch
Fletch Reflected
McDonald was a newspaper reporter himself, so I imagine that he had an idea of the difficult life of a reporter that Fletch faced. It’s always interesting when authors write about environments they have personally experienced. I’m putting him next to Joseph Heller of Catch-22 fame as an author who can be funny and serious at the same time.
As always, Bookshelf Battlers, thank you for stopping by. Shameless plug – please follow this blog, and if you’re on Twitter, follow @bookshelfbattle I’ll keep writing reviews as long as somebody keeps reading them. May your days be filled with booktastic goodness.
Are there SPOILERS ahead?
Oh yah’, you betcha’ young fella.’
I just finished the last episode of this season’s Fargo on FX. All I can say is, “Wow.”
When I first heard that a Fargo TV show was in the works, I hated the idea. The Fargo film is such a classic and so self-contained that it did not seem like it would be possible to improve onto it or add to it. If you haven’t seen it, you should. The movie follows a scheme by a wimpy, chronically disrespected car salesman played by William H. Macy to stage a fake kidnapping of his wife in order to extort money from his overbearing father-in-law. The kidnappers, one of them played by Steve Buscemi in what I recall to be one of the best performances of his early career, botch things up miserably and well, tragedy ensues. The evildoers are eventually rounded up by unlikely hero Margie, an exceptionally pregnant police officer. Throughout the movie, much fun is poked at the ways of the Northern Midwest, the overly polite manners of the people there, and their tendency to speak in pseudo-Scandanavian accents – “Oh yah,’ dontch’a know?”
Naturally, the Fargo TV series did capture some of the film’s themes. There’s a wimpy disrespected loser, Lester Nygaard, this time played by Martin Freeman. There’s a female police officer, played by Allison Tolman, but she doesn’t get pregnant until the end. Further homages to the film are made here and there, but for the most part, this is not an attempt to remake the movie so much as to tell another crime story set in the greater Fargo area.
The show becomes increasingly shocking – especially towards the end – the Las Vegas elevator scene and the scene where Lester sends his second wife into the shop, well, I’ll let you watch for yourself, but those scenes left my jaw scraping the floor.
I did worry that casting Key and Peele as two bumbling FBI agents might turn the whole show into a joke, but oddly enough, it did work.
Overall, a great show. FX continues to set the bar high in bringing quality entertainment.
Bookshelf Battle 