Fargo (TV Program)

Dot sees an opportunity. Ole Munch sees an account that needs settling.Season 5, Episode 10: ‘Bisquik’The show may be called “Fargo,” but setting aside the Upper Midwest setting and colloquialisms, this fifth season has been more in conversation with a different Coen Brothers thriller, “No Country for Old Men,” their faithful rendering of the Cormac McCarthy novel. From the beginning, Roy Tillman has served as a malevolent twist on Tommy Lee Jones’s Ed Tom Bell in “No Country,” both hailing from a long line of county sheriffs patrolling arid stretches of countryside occasionally pocked with outlaws.Bell worries about an encroachment of evil that his predecessors never faced and that he feels increasingly powerless to contain. Tillman is that evil, a Black hat with a badge.And then there’s Ole Munch, a contract killer who doubles as an ageless arbiter of justice, impossible to outwit and nearly as difficult to mollify. He has been the season’s answer to Anton Chigurh, the mirthless and equally style-challenged assassin of “No Country.” Both cling rigidly to codes that seem obscure to the mortals they hold in judgment. Both seem part of the American landscape, manifested rather than born. But Munch has shown the capacity for fairness and mercy, and his 500-year journey from Wales to chili night is rooted in humility. In a season where debt — and its flip-side, forgiveness — has been at the front of the creator Noah Hawley’s mind, Munch is always acutely aware of what’s owed.Munch’s appearance in the Lyon house at the end of this moving final episode stands in contrast to the scene in which Chigurh waits for Carla Jean Moss (Kelly Macdonald) at her home weeks after killing her husband, Llewelyn (Josh Brolin). Chigurh had threatened to kill Carla Jean if Llewelyn didn’t surrender the cash, and now he has come to make good on his promise, even though Llewelyn is already dead and she has nothing to do with any of this sordid business.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber?  More

“The most I ever felt, I felt for that woman,” Roy confesses. It’s safe to wager Dot never felt the same.Season 5, Episode 9: ‘The Useless Hand’“You Hitler at the Reichstag or Hitler in the bunker?”You never want to get a question like that from your father-in-law, even when you’ve been using your post as the county sheriff to funnel money into their far-right militia for some imagined holy war against “the deep state.” But the question itself, posed to Roy Tillman, suggests the answer: Roy has always been Hitler in the bunker — just as Hitler himself was inevitably Hitler in the bunker — yet he has flashed enough tough-guy charisma to bring other “patriots” into his orbit. He has been cosplaying Ammon Bundy for votes, money and unchecked power, but sometimes an actor immerses himself too deeply into a role. And now he has the feds surrounding his ranch.Throughout the season, we have seen examples of Roy’s brutality and psychopathy, the ease with which he follows his impulse toward extreme violence. But Dot, in a scene where she is cornered by his current wife and trying to speak to their shared experiences, has it right: “He’s weak.” If anything, that weakness makes him more dangerous, especially as his options start to become more limited and he evokes the Masada, an ancient fortress where Jewish rebels made their last stand against the Roman Empire. (As the legend has it, the two-year siege ended in a mass suicide by the rebels.) Last week, Dot was correct in saying that Roy had no plan for what to do after bringing her back to the ranch, other than treating her like a horse that needed to be broken.Much of this week’s episode takes place during this last stand at Tillman Ranch, as federal agents roused by Danish’s disappearance and Dot’s kidnapping finally have urgent cause to hold Roy accountable. Amid the chaos that follows, the show takes full stock of Roy as a fake cowboy, driven by feeling rather than calculation, despite the power he has been able to accumulate. A rational leader would know that shooting the lawyer and right-hand of Minnesota’s billionaire debt queen would not go unanswered, but he was embarrassed and angry and wanted to put this smug slickster in his place.As for Dot, he confesses, “The most I ever felt, I felt for that woman.” That’s when he decides to kill her, too.Of all the fine casting choices this season, Jon Hamm may be the savviest, because memories of “Mad Men” have us trusting in his relative infallibility on the job, even if his Don Draper proves dramatically less certain off the clock. Hamm is such a magnetic cult of personality that comedies like “30 Rock” and the underrated “Confess, Fletch” have made a point of turning him into a grinning buffoon. “Fargo” has done likewise, but much more gradually, as Roy’s biblical authority over Stark County has loosened along with his grip over his emotions. His plea to his patriots, “After they murder me, they’re coming for you next,” has the ring of Trumpian victimization to it. And they will dutifully follow him off the cliff.Roy’s desperation raises the stakes for a thrilling penultimate episode that finds Dot scrambling for safety on the ranch, having seen where he buries the bodies. She can’t have anticipated being in the crossfire between the feds and a militia stocked with heavily armed weekend warriors, but she knows enough about Roy’s state of mind to see where things might be headed. When she works her way back into the house, which is full of little trap doors and hidden passageways that she knows enough to exploit, she gets a call in to Wayne before Karen puts a rifle on her.Given how much the season has been about adversarial women finding common cause, it’s a relief that Dot’s attempt to bond with Karen fails. The show has already gone perhaps too far in softening up Lorraine, and it risks flattening the female characters if they’re all of a similar mindset. The threat that Dot represents to Karen, who rages about how the bedroom hasn’t changed since she left (“We sleep in your filth”), suggests that Roy is bored by his current wife’s compliance. That’s why he needs her to role-play in bed.As Dot finds herself the bleakest possible hiding spot while Witt Farr and a band of agents strike out to locate her, poor Gator comes stumbling back into the picture, led along by Ole Munch, who enacts his own version of biblical justice for when Gator killed his host-of-sorts and made off with his money. Roy knows right away that his son has made a grave mistake, but shows only disappointment when Munch drags Gator back to the ranch by his neck, having carved out his eyes with a hot knife. With no mother or mother-figure left in his life, Gator had opted to please his father, and his reward is to be abandoned in the fog, unable to summon any sympathy from a hard, narrow, narcissistic idol. His childlike pleas for “daddy” are carried off into the mist.Munch does show mercy to the woman who mangled his ear, however. With Roy’s men closing in on the “grave” where she imagines no one will find her, Munch does his part to liberate her by taking them out and lifting her to freedom. “To fight a tiger in a cage is not a fair fight,” he tells her. His beef with Roy appears to be settled. Or maybe he just respects her agency. And prowess.3 Cent StampsA very small Coen reference of note in this episode: While negotiating for his life at Munch’s shack, Gator offers all sorts of illicit goods, including drugs, a flamethrower and finally prostitutes. “Sure gets lonely out here,” he says, echoing a line from a witness in “Fargo,” who remembers Steve Buscemi’s character soliciting prostitutes for himself and his cohort in their lake hide-out.“An old woman watches young men play a game. She drinks. She drinks because her own son has spit the nipple from his mouth. She bothers no one. And yet, you killed her.” Munch’s centuries-old, biblical sense of justice is also quite stilted.“What’s the point of being a billionaire if I can’t have someone killed?” Lorraine probably isn’t the first person to say a line like that.Funny advice for Dot on the phone. Lorraine: “Now put your big-girl pants on and get in the fight.” Indira, with the saner follow-up: “Dorothy, don’t get in the fight.”The Trump-era commentary comes through in Meyer’s clarifying the meaning of the term “witch hunt” to Roy: “You know what a ‘witch hunt’ is, right? Not witches hunting men, but men killing women to keep them in line.” More

Dot learns some harsh truths about her past and present. Danish takes an ill-advised trip to North Dakota.Season 5, Episode 8: ‘Blanket’When Dot was kidnapped early in the season and then she simply returned home as if nothing had happened, it was absurd on its face. No one, other than Wayne, could believe that she had stepped out for a while and come back in time to whisk up some Bisquick for their daughter. And even though she knew that her abductors would lay siege to the house again, she was determined to enjoy Halloween with her family, even as she laid out booby traps like Dustin Hoffman in “Straw Dogs.” She’s the sort of determined fantasist who believes she can bend reality to her will.That bubble is punctured in two lines in this week’s episode, as Roy finally has her back at his ranch in North Dakota, shackled to the floor like an animal. “You’ll end up same as Linda,” he hisses. “I’ll bury you right next to her.” We had just spent most of the previous episode at Camp Utopia, the women’s shelter that Dot had conjured in a reverie over pancakes, which seemed at the time like a clever way to fill in a crucial piece of her back story. But now it’s clear that she was clinging to the idea that Linda had fled Tillman Ranch to save herself and perhaps could one day reappear to make amends with Dot and be a mother again to her wayward son, Gator, who has gone to the dark side in her absence.In the time leading up to Roy’s revelation about what really happened to Linda, Dot is still dead set on returning to the fantasy life that she has nearly succeeded in making real. She needs to order an ice cream cake for Scotty’s birthday. She has her duties as a den mother for a girl scout troop. She has 13 seasons of “Call the Midwife” to get through with Wayne. Yet the incontrovertible truth about Roy is that he is a killer with a badge, unrestrained by the laws of man or the influence of a powerful lawyer like Danish Graves, who smugly assumed he had the upper hand in a negotiation. From her shelter on the ranch, Dot can see that corpse disposal is so routine for Roy that he has a pit on site for it.At this point, it may be worth questioning how sincere “Fargo” is about domestic violence. As skillfully as the show’s creator, Noah Hawley, has spun his serio-comic yarn this season, it can be difficult to reconcile the glib, knowing, referential tone of the show with the content warnings that have bracketed the last two episodes. When Roy takes his long walk back to Dot in the shelter, following his humiliation at the county sheriff’s debate, a Lisa Hannigan cover of the Britney Spears hit “Toxic” blankets the soundtrack and it strikes a bum note. “Dark” covers of pop songs have become a staple of movie trailers, and here it’s the coming attraction to a type of abuse the show isn’t sober enough to handle. What worked for the puppets in Camp Utopia feels more like genre exploitation here.It doesn’t help that the prelude to violence is so extravagantly silly. Lorraine and Danish’s plan to spoil Roy’s re-election campaign surely ranks as the strangest of the onerous debt consolidation options offered by Redemption Services. In order for the plan to work, Danish has to get name changes approved for three Roy Tillmans, secure spots for each of them on the debate stage for Stark County sheriff and provoke the real Roy Tillman so shrewdly that he melts down and slugs the female moderator. Those seem like a lot of unpredictable variables, but the scene itself is reasonably funny, with the fake Roys echoing the real one like siblings pranking their older brother.Now that the Roy-Dot-Linda situation has been clarified, can we get a puppet-assisted back story on how Indira and Lars Olmstead ever became a couple? Because whatever it is that Lars brought to the table when they fell in love and got married, there’s no evidence left of it now. Indira catching Lars with another woman adds infidelity to a long list of flaws that she itemizes one last time before kicking him out of the house. Throughout the season, Indira’s troubles at home have been placed in contrast with Dot’s blissful marriage to Wayne, and it has offered a different picture of domestic toxicity than Dot’s abuse at Roy’s hands. They are both women fighting for their own happiness, and the show has engineered an unspoken bond between them.The final shot of Dot peering out a small, broken window on the ranch, fully awake to Roy’s capabilities, introduces a genuine fear that we haven’t yet seen from her. “You don’t have a plan, do you?,” she asked him earlier. She intended it as a rhetorical taunt, but perhaps now she realizes that his not having a plan is a terrifying proposition. He will assert his authority over her. He hasn’t planned anything after that.3 Cent StampsDot knowing the truth about what happened to Linda does increase the possibility that Gator will turn on his father, especially given the vulnerability he shows at any mention of his mother. He will have to survive Ole Munch first, however.Nice to see Deputy Witt Farr re-emerge in the hospital, where he tries to pry Dot away from Roy’s clutches. He has shown a lot of courage already in standing up to the Tillmans, but it’s his insistence on repeatedly calling Dot “Mrs. Lyon” that is touching in this context. He wants her (and Roy) to know that he recognizes who she really is.One Coens reference in this episode: Indira’s opening the bedroom closet door on Lars’s mistress recalls when George Clooney discovers Brad Pitt hiding out in “Burn After Reading.” The mistress gets off a little easier, though.Kudos to the people of Stark County for packing the house for a sheriffs debate. You don’t expect such things to be standing-room-only media events.Another small movie reference: The squeaky windmill above the spot where Roy dumps his victims seems like a nod to the famous opening of “Once Upon a Time in the West,” where such a squeak is among the new sounds we hear in the pregnant moments before three outlaws ambush Charles Bronson at a train station. It’s also a callback to the place where she hid the postcard from Linda in her reverie. More

Gator takes matters into his own hands. Dot takes a drive. Wayne takes a trade-in.Season 5, Episode 7: ‘Linda’After eight episodes of frolicking in a Coen-ized version of gangland Kansas City in the early 1950s, the last season of “Fargo” shifted audaciously to a black-and-white homage to “The Wizard of Oz,” complete with a tornado as deus ex machina. Having already moved the show out of the Coens’ Minnesota and North Dakota, its creator, Noah Hawley, gave himself the license to claim another patch of Heartland terrain, as if advancing across a Risk board. The Coens had ended “A Serious Man” with a tornado, too, so it wasn’t even that off brand.Now in the homestretch of the new season, Hawley returns to Oz again with an extended fantasy sequence that addresses Dot’s back story more deftly than a standard monologue or flashback ever could. It’s also a subtler homage than running a tornado through Kansas in black-and-white: Not until Wayne improvises a story for Scotty around “Dorothy” and rainbows does the connection become blazingly apparent. And even then, the episode is graced with a sense of the uncanny, as Dot’s past is illustrated with the punch of a particularly vivid dream. Such is the power of the “Fargo” pancake.A fuller reckoning with Dot’s history with Roy and Gator is forthcoming, but on the way out of town in her Kia with DLR plates, Dot pauses at a truck stop for coffee and pancakes and drifts off into a reverie. (She first stares at a recipe for chicken piccata that is posted to a billboard, which perhaps nods to the recipe-trading that Deputy Olmstead’s husband wanted her to do in order to be a “real wife.”) After stopping to unearth a cryptic postcard from “Camp Utopia” from a woman named Linda, Dot continues on her way until she passes a sign for the place and her car stalls out on the side of the road.The path to Camp Utopia is covered in untrodden snow leading into the forest, so it comes as a surprise for Dot to discover a large cabin filled with women, seated raptly before a puppet show. Yet it’s not the sort of whimsical performance associated with a sleep-away camp; it is a dramatization of domestic abuse, so triggering to Dot that she passes out. (This is the rare example of someone continuing to stay in a dream after passing out in it.) When she comes to, Dot announces that she is looking for a woman named Linda, only to learn that everyone is named Linda. This is women’s shelter, one Linda (Sorika Wolf) explains to her, and the generic name is a starting place from which to rebuild the identity of its residents. All these Lindas make Camp Utopia sound like a bizarro-world Barbieland.But there’s only one Linda who matters to Dot: Linda Hillman (Kari Matchett), Roy’s ex-wife, whom Dot needs to help clear some things up so she can resume her current marriage. Linda refuses to go until Dot’s story is adjudicated by the rest of the women through another puppet show, and she has to make a puppet first, which she is told will “expel the trauma” by attaching it to this representation. What it does, in practice, is lend a strange vibrancy to Dot’s back story that recalls the stop-motion existentialism of Charlie Kaufman’s “Anomalisa” in how it uses a familiar technique to unfamiliar ends.Despite the unreality of Camp Utopia, it seems safe to believe that the tragic story Dot tells about herself is real: Linda discovered her as a wayward 15-year-old named Nadine and brought her into the Tillman home with Roy and Gator, but Linda subtly nudged the abusive Roy in Nadine’s direction. As Roy directed sexual attention toward the teenager, Linda used the opportunity to flee, leaving Nadine trapped in her place. Dot has reason to blame Linda for condemning her to this terrible fate, but the episode is really about her recognizing that Roy deserves the fullness of her wrath.When “Fargo” clicks its heels together and snaps back to reality, it pulls a nasty twist on “there’s no place like home.” A freak (or not-so-freak) accident lands Dot in the hospital and back in the care of the wrong husband, Roy, who appears to have needed fate to do the job Munch and Gator couldn’t pull off. The episode ends on this cliffhanger, but knowing Dot’s back story throws Gator in a different light, casting him less as an inept baby-faced henchman than as an impressionable child who was the collateral damage in his father’s relationships. Gator is now stuck trying to impress daddy by wiping out Munch, which is almost poignant in its impossibility.There may be some scenario in which Gator understands his father’s culpability in his traumatic upbringing and aligns himself with the abused women who have passed through their house. But Roy has a talent for pitting his victims against one another. And with Munch now waiting in the weeds, Gator may not have a shot at redemption.3 Cent StampsWe finally get some clarity on the old woman who has been boarding Munch. It doesn’t seem as if any formal agreement was reached between them; Munch appears to have viewed himself as a guard dog, offering protection in lieu of rent. This means hacking her terrible son with an ax exactly the way his “Fargo” movie analog, Gaear Grimsrud (Peter Stormare), takes out his partner, Carl (Steve Buscemi).Wayne’s neurologically challenged state has made him more of a softy than usual, which pleases his daughter, Scotty, who needs the companionship, and leads to incredible trade-in deals on his Kia lot. Having Wayne agree to a one-to-one trade-in for new car is a clever reversal of the scene in the movie where Jerry pretends to ask his boss for a discount he knows he will not get for a disgruntled customer.In another Coen callback, the specific tracking device Gator uses on Munch’s car is the same one Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem) uses to locate Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) at a motel in “No Country for Old Men.” The show can’t come close to matching the film’s suspense, but it raises the temperature a bit. More

This episode reflects that this season is about women carving out a place for themselves in a world where the best men are dim and the worst are abusive.Season 5, Episode 6: ‘The Tender Trap’To the many reversals of Coen character types in this season of “Fargo” — Dot as a lethally capable Jean Lundegaard from the movie, Roy as a malevolent Ed Tom Bell from “No Country for Old Men” — let’s add one more: Lars Olmstead, the layabout husband of Indira Olmstead, this season’s indebted, nonpregnant spin on Frances McDormand’s Marge Gunderson. Marge’s husband, Norm, has a dream, too. He paints a mallard for a competition to get on the 20-cent stamp. He loses to his friend, but gets on the three-cent stamp, which Marge celebrates in the film’s touching denouement.But unlike with Lars, Norm’s ambitions are a not a drag on his wife. On the contrary, he makes her eggs and gives the prowler a jump. They enjoy a lunchtime fricassee together. In the end, snuggled under a blanket against the howling cold of the rural Midwest, they look forward to their first child. If anything, it is Marge who experiences a bit of wanderlust when she leaves for the Twin Cities to investigate the case and puts on makeup to meet with an old classmate for drinks. Ol’ reliable Norm will always be there to support her, but perhaps Brainerd, Minn., and its brown-gray buffet casseroles aren’t enough for a sheriff of her impeccable instincts.Indira is too good for Lars; that much is clear. When he comes stumbling inside from another night sleeping in his garage of broken dreams, he rages at Indira for not supporting him like a proper wife. The scene isn’t remotely persuasive, because there has never been any suggestion of why these two were ever wedded in the first place. He is trying to bring about a traditional marriage where, based on all available evidence, one has never existed. He runs up debt as a jobless nincompoop who imagined himself first as a rock drummer and then as a PGA Tour pro, and she takes double-shifts at the police station to work down their debt and to supply her man-child with Frosted Flakes. His gall in this moment is unmitigated, and it is also unbelievable.Yet the crude engineering of this scene does feed into a larger theme of the episode and the series itself, which has become about united women carving out a place for themselves in a world where the best men are dim and the worst are thoughtless and abusive. Indira’s fight with her husband, who somehow expects her to exchange recipes like the other wives at the country club, serves as a catalyst for her to reconsider her position on Dot. Given what Indira has been able to piece together, Dot is no longer the cop-tasing miscreant in the back of her cruiser but an abuse victim who is scraping and clawing to maintain the happiness she went through hell to achieve. That’s a woman worth fighting for.Lorraine doesn’t come around to Indira’s line of thinking naturally, which is what makes her the most intriguing character on the show. Her instinct is to support guys like Roy Tillman, because she considers herself tough and unapologetic and tends to think of society in terms of winners and losers, many of whom owe her company money. When Indira slides a thick file detailing Dot/Nadine’s documented abuse by Roy, Lorraine pushes it away. “People who claim to be victims are the downfall of this country,” she says. In her mind, Dot is still the impostor who has married her only son.Yet Roy, for all his swaggering power plays, has made it easier for Lorraine to change her mind. He only knows one way to deal with women and that’s to assert his power over them, by his authority or by the back of his hand. There might have been an angle he could have taken to get Lorraine to help him get his ex-wife back and solve her own daughter-in-law problems in the process. But her distaste for Roy and her meeting with Indira have started to alter her thinking about Dot, who isn’t the type of “victim” she lives to harass with onerous consolidation deals or threats of litigation.In the framing scenes at the Tender Trap, the strip club that gives this episode its title, one small detail stands out. When Roy confronts Vivian Duggar, the mustachioed banker “with a girl’s name” who’s selling his business to Lorraine, he brings up the fact that he’s violating a dancer’s restraining order against him. The irony is pretty rich, given what we know about Roy’s treatment of women, but it brings these men into dramatic alignment. When Lorraine uses her power in the end to ruin Vivian’s life, it serves as a coming attraction for things to come. She’s still coming around to the idea of “victims” being legitimate, but she lives to flex.Jon Hamm, left, and Sam Spruell in “Fargo.”Michelle Faye/FX3-Cent StampsWith Scotty left alone with Lars all day, the only thing she has to eat are crackers at lunch. In Lars’s defense, it appears that adding milk to sugar cereal is the limit of his domestic skills.This season of “Fargo” has been violent like the others, but even a bullet to the wrong captive’s head has nothing on the shock of Roy slapping his current wife for nipping his ear during a haircut. Her terrified acceptance of his abuse is just as startling and makes you think about how Dot/Nadine’s life with him must have been.Roy’s decision to “pay the boogeyman” — Munch — doesn’t seem like it will solve much of anything. Gator seems to know that, but taunting an unkillable hit man isn’t such a great idea, either.“When he was a boy, my son wanted to be a ballerina. I told him the male of the species is called a ballerino, but he couldn’t be swayed.” Wayne’s father never goes anywhere without his vodka gimlets, it would appear.That’s a lovely piece of acting by Richa Moorjani as Indira when Wayne asks her, “Have you seen my wife? She was supposed to visit me today.” Dot and Wayne’s marriage may be a legal fraud that’s falling apart, but her eyes pool with envy over their partnership.“When a man digs a grave, he has to fill it. Otherwise, it’s just a hole.” It sounds a little like Noah Hawley wants to tackle a serialized version of “A Fistful of Dollars” next.Does Indira agree to work for Lorraine? She seems disinclined by nature to trade the sturdiness of applying the law to doing security detail for a rich woman she can’t trust, but $192,000 is a lot of debt. More