Critics are raving about the season finale of Fargo, which just aired on FX. The reimagining of the famous Coen brothers film turned it into a 10 hour miniseries that aimed to find the perfect balancing point between film, which often feels slightly too short and rushed, leaving you wanting more of the narrative and the characters, and endlessly sprawling television with no definitive end date. On Fargo, the end was clearly defined, and viewers got to see it unfold with rather spectacular flair this week.
Yet, I find myself among the ranks of the somewhat flattened and disappointed, and for one primary reason: The decision to cut Molly (Allison Tolman) out of the action. In the end, Fargo felt like yet another male-dominated drama, about the journeys of the male characters and their personal redemption, which was a radical departure from the rest of the series. Being the bitter media critic that I am, I had been hoping for more from what has been an excellent series, with lots of dark humour, great characters, and brilliant screenwriting.
One of the things that’s made the show enjoyable is the focus on Molly and her journey, and the decision to put her character front and center. It made for a refreshing departure from so many police dramas, which often feel as though someone uncorked a bottle of manpain and sprayed it all over the television. Fargo was a smart, funny, sharp show about a woman’s journey, and it was fresh, fascinating, and dynamic for that — just like the original film was.
Yet, in the finale, we have Lorne Malvo (Billy Bob Thornton) and Lester Nygaard (Martin Freeman) facing off against each other, and a surprise appearance from Gus (Colin Hanks) to throw the story off, with Molly kept firmly offstage. The ending may have been a shocker, surprising viewers who thought they knew what to expect based on the film and the trajectory of the show, but it was also like being dunked in a bucket of cold water. Noah Hawley, writer and creator, has said that he didn’t want the ending to be too pat, which was one reason behind the series of decisions that led to the finale. Having Molly wrap the story up might have felt too tidy, and it certainly wouldn’t have destabilised the narrative the way Hawley wanted to.
I can understand and sympathise with the creative drive that led to this decision, but it’s still disappointing, and that’s thanks to the small representation of women on television in lead roles like Molly’s. Because we see so few female investigators leading the pack, fighting for their place in society, and embarking on their own complex journeys as they confront complex, fascinating criminals, it stings when they’re cut out of the action. This decision might have been right for the series and for the storytelling style, but was it right for Molly? And where does the balance lie?
Creators have a duty to their work first, but when artistic decisions continuously cut out women, that’s a concern. When there’s always a reason for women to get short shrift in media and pop culture, that’s also a concern — because then it starts to look less like unfortunate happenstance, and more like deliberate cultural choice. At some point, creators have to ask themselves why they cut women out of satisfying, vindicating, and empowering finales like this one in favor of their male counterparts. Why, in this case, did Gus need to find his courage at the last moment while his partner was nowhere to be seen?
Why did we need to end with Gus and Molly on the couch, looking like a tame married couple? This ending was, in its own way, such a pat, troped, happy ending that it was almost painful — and a far cry from the supposedly radical ending the creators claimed they wanted. What’s radical about two people sitting on a couch together, watching The Price is Right? Molly says ‘I’m going to be chief,’ and this is supposed to appease the viewers?
Molly doesn’t get her resolution, because Fargo is over, and while it could potentially be extended with another miniseries that focused on a different crime and criminals, that doesn’t seem likely. The creators had a very specific image in mind and they realized it with flair, but another setup of that nature would stretch the bounds of believability, and, perhaps, the tolerance of audiences. What turned out to be stellar for one season might, in other words, not work so well for two, let alone more, and the creators wisely want to quit while they are ahead, rather than trying to wring everything they can out of the concept.
Fargo worked so beautifully because of its finite nature, tight storylines, and epic scope; like other miniseries on air currently, it took advantage of cinematic settings, sweeping scenery, and an attention to detail to make the setting its own character. This bodes well for US television, as we may be entering an era of more thinky, complex, interesting television characterised by short series, higher production values, and a focus on tight, predefined story arcs that don’t waver and topple at the slightest breeze.
The flaw of that model, though, is that when characters are shuffled around to serve the story, it sparks ire. Molly was deprived of what could have been an empowering, dynamic, and compelling resolution, and she doesn’t get a second chance, because this is it. That seems unfair both to her, and to viewers.
Lester may have been swallowed up by the ice, but Molly was iced-out.
Photo by photophilde, licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic license.