Fargo (1996)

The Coen Brothers, whom I eternally adore, should have won an armful of Oscars for “Fargo,” a most excellent and most bleak comedy/thriller that doubles as a morality play so good, you could play it in church. If your place of worship allowed the screening of films were men are fed to a wood chipper. (Hey, it’s not like “Exodus” is squeaky clean, people. Roll with me.)

Set in northern Midwest, “Fargo” follows a loser car salesman named Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy) who hires two criminals (Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare) to kidnap his wife in order to get a ransom from his rich father-in-law. Even Buscemi’s dim bulb doesn’t get that device, asking: “Why not just borrow the money?” As Mutt and Jeff later flee with the kidnapped wife, they kill three people on an icy length of North Dakota highway. Thus enters whip-smart local Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand, who napped an Oscar) as a hugely pregnant police officer investigating the deaths.

The Coen Brothers clearly have their tongues firmly planted in cheek for most of this “true story” that plays like a grisly ode to Hitchcock’s best, and a satire of greed and stupidity. But damn if they don’t play the neatest card trick by having Marge and her painter husband (John Carroll Lynch of “Zodiac”) be the pinnacle of a moral, loving middle-aged couple. And then Marge gets to deliver a lecture on the senseless violence and greed that makes up much of the 90 minutes of plot. This kind of film can’t be duplicated. And many have tried. It was my favorite film of 1996.

The whole cast is top notch, but it’s Macy who stands out in a role that should have won him an Oscar. His Jerry is a clueless weasel who’s drowned even before he jumps into the swimming pool. And, yet, Macy makes it impossible to hate the man. His frantic emergency call to the old man is hilarious. A