On Fargo, a don of television

Every once in a while, television gives us something magical, something devilishly entertaining. Fargo is that something. From the directing to the dialogues, the plot to the personas, the music to the melodrama, everything falls so nicely into a couched place. The directing has been especially ingenious this season. The directors seem to have taken a penchant for the superimposition of dialogue over the scenes. This usually creates a sort of surrealism which I struggle to define; but a surrealism that adds nonetheless greatly to the enjoyment of the show. The plot never does drag its feet but always leaps ahead when you least expect it to. The characters, as with season 1, are colorful and immensely watchable (yes, even the incorrigibly detestable ones; which only goes to show how well played by the actors and actresses they are). The music is a little reminiscent of season 1’s, and though not as catchy, still manages to run smoothly behind the mood of the show. For all that I have given here, I imagine that you are still unimpressed, or at least, not impressed enough to go ahead and watch Fargo. But such is the “water-slide” problem. Or perhaps we should call it, the “art appreciation” problem, since Fargo is almost indubitably a fine piece of television art.

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