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

Dot proves once again that she can’t be caged. She and Lorraine may have more in common than they think.Season 5, Episode 5: ‘The Tiger’Although her accent as Lorraine Lyon suggests Amy Archer, the fast-talking journalist who likes to tout her bona fides (“I’ll bet my Pulitzer on it!”) in Joel and Ethan Coens’s “The Hudsucker Proxy,” Jennifer Jason Leigh is projecting power as a kind of entitled boredom. She doesn’t merely walk into a room. She makes an entrance, like royalty. And when her commands are not heeded, she either calmly asks for the heads of those who defy her or she goes for the throat herself. She doesn’t raise her voice. She is steady, calculating and vaguely put out.There are two tigers, Lorraine and Dot, in this week’s drum-tight episode, even though a voice-over narrator, who speaks of tigers in a nature-doc parody throughout the show, seems to be referring only to Dot. And while that narration says nothing about a sisterhood between tigers, this episode engineers an unexpected alignment between the two, who have been at odds, to put it mildly. The opening sequence, which shows Lorraine deep in thought in her office, is a helpful little recap of where their relationship stands: She seems to recognize that Dot is formidable, a “wolf in sheep’s clothing,” and genuinely committed to her son.But perhaps she is more ally than adversary.Two connected scenes appear to redirect Lorraine’s perspective on the situation. The first takes place at a lunch meeting between two bank executives who had been negotiating with her lawyer, Danish Graves, on a deal to sell to her company. (The numbers being “pretty sweet” nods to the sale Jerry Lundegaard tries to arrange in “Fargo” the movie.) Lorraine wants to expand her Redemption Services from the debt business to the credit business, because “everyone loves a lender, not so much the repo man.” But she quickly realizes that her counterparts across the table have no interest in dealing with a woman, so she leaves them with new numbers that are not sweet at all.Later, she gets a visit from Roy Tillman, who she suspects has come to shake her down for money to let the Dot situation go. When Roy surprises her with a demand to get Dot back as his biblical property, Lorraine’s mood shifts exactly as it did with the bank executives. His claim to have felt relief when Dot resurfaced gets a skeptical “uh huh” from Lorraine that’s a fine example of how well Leigh plays the tiger, with a laconic half-interest that masks a deadly ferocity.“Listen, slick,” she tells Roy, “nothing would make me happier than to put that woman in a box marked ‘return to sender,’” but she bristles at his retrograde demands. She and Dot may be at odds, but they’re aligned in fighting men who wish to own them.Based on what we know about Lorraine, she wouldn’t necessarily be unfriendly to a guy like Roy, a “constitutional sheriff” who stumps for limited government and probably has his own holiday pictures of the family posing with assault rifles. You would almost mistake her for a progressive in the way she sizes him up as a libertarian who abhors taxes and the social safety net, even though she operates a predatory business that surely benefits from weakened oversight. By the same token, she wouldn’t necessarily be unkind to the shady bankers in the earlier scene if they had negotiated with her in good faith. She just won’t be disrespected. Or underestimated.None of this is to say that Lorraine feels a sudden warmth toward her daughter-in-law. But at this point, Dot needs all the help she can get. She spends most of this gripping hour on the run after Lorraine and Danish claim power of attorney over her and have her committed to a psychiatric ward. By sticking Dot in a different wing at the same hospital where Wayne is recovering from “a serious electrical event,” the show engineers a tense set piece in which Dot pauses mid-escape to protect her husband from being kidnapped. It’s a sign of Roy’s respect for her cunning that he has abandoned a third attempt to capture her and decides to go after her family instead.This leads to yet another unlikely allegiance between women, as Dot turns to Olmstead for help protecting Scotty, who stands to be another target for Roy’s henchmen. Dot gambles wisely that Olmstead’s feelings on this case haven’t yet settled, despite her being the deputy who initially picked her up for tasing one of her colleagues. These are two women who have known imperfect marriages, after all, as Olmstead is reminded in the steady thumping of shanked golf shots that must pulse in her head like a migraine. As the Marge Gunderson of this season, Olmstead has sound instincts and a sympathetic nature that makes her persuadable.Lingering over all these developments is a big question that “Fargo” seems content in putting off for as long as possible: Who is Dot, anyway? Or, more to the point, who is Lorraine? How did this reedy housewife from suburban Minnesota acquire a certain set of skills like Liam Neeson in the “Taken” movies? For now, it’s helpful for Dot to have powerful women like Lorraine and Olmstead in her corner. But tigers are inscrutable, too.3 Cent StampsCutting to the wounded orderlies after Dot promises to maim them is a funny touch, but even better is when Juno Temple lets out a Minnesotan “shoot” once she has been strapped to the gurney.A fine mic drop moment from Lorraine, who likens Roy’s desire for “freedom with no responsibility” to his wanting to be a baby, though again, she would probably pull the lever for him at the ballot box.Wayne’s bathroom talk (“I just went. Poop came out.”) suggests the path to neurological health remains long for him.Lorraine implores Olmstead to look for Dot with the line, “Are you going to look for her, or are you going to sit drinking coffee in the one house in the state where I know that girl ain’t at?” Coen-heads will recognize that line from the great Trey Wilson in “Raising Arizona.”Dot drives away in a car with DLR plates. Another “Fargo” classic. More

Halloween provides the perfect disguise for a home invasion. Of course, this is “Fargo,” so nothing goes quite as planned.Season 5, Episode 4: ‘Insolubilia’One of the strengths of “Fargo” this season is the way it has drawn closer to the Coensverse by re-contextualizing major pieces of it, rather than by tucking in referential Easter eggs for fans to collect. (Although it has done plenty of that, too.) The first attempt to abduct Dot, for example, closely mirrors the sequence in the Coens’ “Fargo” where Jean Lundegaard has her morning routine disrupted by intruders, though Dot proves far more capable of defending herself. She is determined, beyond all reason, to be like Jean, the housewife and P.T.A. mom who carves out a little time to knit in front of weekday talk shows. But she cannot escape who she really is.Roy Tillman has no interest in escaping from his past. He is building it out into a corrupt, theocratic fief across North Dakota and the open expanses of the Upper Midwest. He is a third-generation lawman, just like Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) in “No Country for Old Men,” but he doesn’t share Bell’s fears about facing a world of overwhelming evil because voters have put him in a position to perpetuate it. Whatever justice might be achieved in this season of “Fargo,” it is going to happen despite him and the tremendous political and tactical arsenal he has at his disposal.Late in this week’s episode, Roy is framed exactly like Bell at the end of “No Country,” as a retired Bell sits at home in front of a windowsill with his wife, recalling bleak, dead-haunted dreams about his father. Only here, the windowsill is in another couple’s mobile home and Roy expresses no misgivings about the violence he is about to unleash. We had seen him in an earlier episode counseling this same couple about an incident of domestic violence that Roy chose to manage in typically extralegal fashion, with a threat to the husband about his behavior and, let’s say, some antiquated advice on how his wife might fulfill her duties.As he smugly holds court on a Biblical passage relevant to this situation, Roy anticipates everything that is about to happen, just as he anticipated the likelihood of the husband’s getting physical with his wife again. He knows that he can goad this “beta man” into trying to shoot him, and he knows that he’ll be the quicker draw. He also knows that he can count on the wife to support his cover story: that the man he just shot is Munch, who had come home bragging about killing a state trooper and wounding another one. On Roy’s turf, the best way to cover up his connection to dead bodies is with other dead bodies.Roy’s extralegal tendencies have drawn the attention of Meyer and Joaquin, the two F.B.I. agents itching to impose law to the lawless lawman. But their appetite for justice isn’t shared by their overseer, who tells them, “Maybe he loses the election and the whole thing goes away.” The political allusion to Donald Trump here is unmistakable: Should the law be applied to Roy as if he were any other citizen, or do the voters get to decide whether his alleged sins are forgivable? In Roy’s case, as in Trump’s, there’s the considerable threat of “what happens next” that separates him from an ordinary candidate for prosecution. The agents are reminded that Roy is “the most powerful sheriff in North Dakota” and he is connected to “the most powerful militia in the Upper Midwest.” A lost election might guarantee a quieter withdrawal from public life.Yet the voters may not have a voice in this matter, after all. This week, we learn that Dot, formerly Nadine, was Roy’s second wife. And despite her valiant attempts to deny her identity and everything that has happened to her, Dot has been identified as the woman on the surveillance camera who outwitted Munch and his partner and saved Witt Farr, the wounded state trooper. In the aftermath of a home invasion that left her husband electrocuted and their home burned to cinders, Dot tries to brush off the whole thing as a case of bad wiring and refuses to acknowledge Witt, who wants to thank her for saving his life.The obvious question for Witt and Olmstead is why Dot would deny such acts of valor ever happened. Surely the Roy connection will give them some clues.Another big question to consider: What is supposed to happen if Dot/Nadine is brought back to Roy? He does not want her killed but returned, and she has proved to be an exceptionally wily captive. Perhaps that speaks to a key parallel between Dot and Roy, which is that they will deny reality if they have the opportunity to manipulate it to their own ends. Roy believes himself mandated by God and the voters to manage his domain as he sees fit, like tagging one gunshot victim as Munch and burying another before he can be verified as the victim of a “car accident.” Dot still refuses to loosen her grip on a domestic utopia that is now literally turned to ash. Perhaps the two are made for each other, after all.3 Cent StampsThe Gator-led assault on the Lyons’ den is thrillingly staged, from the half-silly/half-menacing “The Nightmare Before Christmas” masks to the small twists on expectations. Although Dot is able to fend off her attackers, some of her home security innovations backfire, like the lightbulb rigged to work as an alarm and the exposed wiring that ends up electrocuting her husband.Roy and Dot are both rooted in spiritual conviction, which the episode puts in pointed contrast. At the chapel on his ranch, Roy refers to the crucified Jesus as “old friend” while recalling an incident in which he watched Beelzebub himself whisper into the ear of a killer. In another scene, Dot assures a shaken Scotty that “the wicked stick to the darkness while we get to stay in the light.”Shrewd juxtaposition between Olmstead’s call from a predatory “debt-relief specialist” and Lorraine’s spin job to a Forbes reporter on Redemption Services, the business that netted her $1.6 billion in profit the previous year. Perhaps the funniest moment of the episode is the way Jennifer Jason Leigh quietly nods, “of course,” when a lackey whispers in ear that her son’s house has been burned down.“With all due respect, we’ve got our own reality.” — Danish Graves, giving voice to the episode’s thesis.Munch asks for “pancakes,” affirming him as a much smarter (and chattier) version of Gaear Grimsrud in the movie. More

Dot’s pursuers seem to be on the verge of being pursued themselves.Season 5, Episode 3: ‘The Paradox of Intermediate Transactions’The Coen brothers filmography is speckled with a specific type of abstract character, a dark and indomitable force of nature who isn’t quite human and operates on a code that is known only to him. Think Leonard Smalls (Randall “Tex” Cobb) in “Raising Arizona,” a mercenary biker who seems manifested from a nightmare, or Charlie Meadows (John Goodman) in “Barton Fink,” a gregarious insurance man who presents himself as “the common man” but reveals a second identity that is exceptionally uncommon. Then there’s the gun-for-hire Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem) in “No Country for Old Men,” who asks his victims to “flip a coin,” but always seems in control of their fate regardless. He may represent Death itself, but his agenda has an odd rigor and consistency to it.We have seen these types in Noah Hawley’s TV “Fargo,” too, like David Thewlis as a mirthless, ruthless British business V.M. Varga in the third season or Billy Bob Thornton as the hit man Lorne Malvo in the first season, a satanic figure who believes people are primal beasts and acts accordingly. And now for this new season, Hawley has offered Sam Spruell as Ole Munch, who seemed at first like a highly seasoned contract killer — nothing like the rank amateurs played by Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare in the movie — but who takes a leap to the mythic in the third episode. His clients are now his targets and it is safe to say they don’t know much about him.Neither do we, frankly, even after the episode makes an unexpected leap to early 16th-century Wales, when Munch or a Munch-like ancestor takes part in a sin-eating ritual. He’s asked, “In forgiveness of your debts to man, will you consume his lordship’s sins to god?” And so he does, a poor man collecting coins for absorbing a rich man’s wrongdoings so he can ascend to heaven.That is the spiritual burden his earthly humility has forced him to take on, perhaps. In 2019 Munch has accepted coins to do a dirty job for Roy Tillman, who was neither clear about the difficulties of the work nor honorable about paying the money he owed. That has turned Munch into a 21st-century debt collector, owed much more than money.Though Hawley owes the Coens a debt of his own for his open-ended lease on their audacity, he keeps moving the season forward with a confidence that often tilts into swagger. When Munch lays in bed listening to a police radio, the show samples a music cue from “The Shining,” if to suggest that he is an eternal presence like Jack Torrance at the Overlook Hotel, where Jack was told he had “always been the caretaker.” That’s terrible news for Munch’s mother, who looks uncomfortable with the prospect of her creepy son occupying the rocking chair upstairs indefinitely. And it is even worse news for Roy and his half-wit son, Gator, who underpaid, undermined and underestimated Munch and now have to anticipate his revenge.But first, Gator has to prove to his father that he is not a loser, which isn’t easy for a kid with a Confederate flag posted over his bed. All this business with Dot comes as the Hillmans appear to stocking munitions for an insurrection-to-be-detailed-later, but Dot has prepared herself for a second abduction attempt.Last week she enlisted Scotty’s help to improvise a security system like Macaulay Culkin in “Home Alone.” This week she switches up the street signs to confuse the Hillmans and brings her husband on a trip to Gun World, where she racks up $5,000 worth of weapons before learning about a federally mandated waiting period. Her cheerful Midwestern pivot to the clerk (“Let’s take a look at that pepper spray then”) echoes the opening scene of the movie, when Buscemi gets impatient with Jerry and asks to “take a look at that Cierra” he stole off the lot.Dot’s insistence on digging into this domestic life that she has built with Wayne and Scotty puts her in a fascinating spot, because those are the only two people who accept her absurd denials. She has been unmasked as a fraud to the police and to her mother-in-law, and she has the Hillmans and various contract goons who are not only after her, but know exactly where she lives. We do not know what her former life was like as “Nadine,” Roy Tillman’s wife, but their relationship now feels a lot like Uma Thurman and David Carradine’s in the “Kill Bill” movies, in that epic revenge is all that stands between the heroine and the peaceful, normal life she thinks she deserves.Getting there will be a blood bath, it would appear. The episode ends on the sort of cliffhanger that leaves you wishing for back-to-back hours like the premiere. Gator and his crack team of masked yahoos have found Dot, despite their confusion over the mixed-up street signs, and Munch has reverted to a scary, primal state to stalk his prey. One sequence seems set up for folly, the other for a disturbing spasm of violence. That’s a balanced “Fargo” diet.Lamorne Morris in “Fargo.”Michelle Faye/FX3-Cent StampsUsing the phrase “Antecedently on …” for “Previously on …” sequence continues to be an eye roller. This show can get too cute for its own good.Roy’s preoccupation with Dot keeps him from getting aroused by a truck full of sexual role-playing costumes, like “helpless hitchhiker” or “angry feminist.” (It says something about Roy’s view of women that those specific types turn him on.)Another small callback to the movie: Dot tells Wayne that Scotty “signed off on” the change in costume to zombie hunters. This is what Jerry tells his father-in-law’s lawyer about the parking lot deal.The return of Witt Farr, the North Dakota state trooper injured in a shootout at the convenience store, suggests a possible lifeline for Dot. Witt catches Gator pocketing evidence from a case file and isn’t intimidated by the young man’s threats.The overt politics of the season come out in a spicy monologue from Lorraine, who’s annoyed that the police are still asking questions about Dot. In her estimation, their job is to “separate those who have money, class and intellect from those who don’t.” They’re not supposed to interrogate people like her. More