A review of tonight’s Fargo coming up just as soon as I loved you in Death of a Salesman…
“You think the world is something, then it turns out to be something else.” –Gloria
Boy, that was good, wasn’t it?
I’ve had concerns throughout this season that Noah Hawley and company were repeating themselves too much, and/or that most of the characters this year hadn’t come to life in the way their predecessors in Bemidji and Luverne so quickly did. There have been entire episodes, or narrative devices, or scenes, that gave me the same jolt of pleasure that earlier installments did, but something on the whole has been missing.
“Aporia,” though, had that same thrilling feeling of everything coming together that we got at this rough point in prior years, while also making several key players feel more complex, sympathetic, and just plain human than before.
In particular, a lot of this season had felt like a missed opportunity for the show with both Carrie Coon, who wasn’t given a lot to play most weeks, and Ewan McGregor, who was given two different characters who each felt thin and stereotypical in their own ways. But “Aporia” did very right by both of them, particularly for McGregor in the pair of Gloria/Emmit conversations in the interview room. Emmit’s confession was the realest, most three-dimensional, and tragic that he’s seemed, and his last line — “Thirty years, I’ve been killing him. That was just when he fell.” — was both beautiful and gut-wrenching. Ray was right all along, and it took his stupid, accidental death for Emmit to finally admit it to himself and an authority figure. And the later scene where Gloria lets him go, and comes achingly close to getting him to tell her about Varga, nicely fit the season’s larger themes of a world that has stopped making sense, even to the people ostensibly in power like Gloria (a cop) or Emmit (a rich and respected businessman). Both have wound up alone — though Emmit is more at fault for his predicament than Gloria for hers — and confused and unhappy, neither of them seemingly able to do anything about the pernicious evil of VM Varga.
This started as a season about brothers, and while one is gone, it has continued to be built around conversations between two people — even silent ones, like the way Nikki and Wrench are a well-oiled machine as they steal Varga’s truck and pick it clean. Both Gloria/Emmit discussions are wonderful, but just as satisfying is Nikki fending off every one of Varga’s insults and countermoves, or Gloria trying and failing to penetrate the Widow Goldfarb’s defenses, or Winnie trying to comfort Gloria. That last scene, and the one in the bathroom that follows — the sink and soap sensors finally recognizing Gloria because Winnie so openly and overtly recognized and cared for her at the bar — were particularly delightful, and a reminder that this is a fundamentally good-hearted show, despite all the mayhem and graphic violence, and that even in a season about how the old rules don’t quite apply anymore, things can still turn out okay for the heroes.
This was also one of the season’s best-looking episodes, thanks in large part to director Keith Gordon(*) finding gorgeous ways to frame particular images, from the hall of mirrors effect in the interview room to all the Varga doppelgangers swooping through the hotel lobby to Gloria gratefully studying her own reflection, so relieved to disprove the fan theory that she’s not real.