Tuesday

  • Season One, Episode Six, Fargo. The entrapment of Don to a certain death by police. Slowed down, extended, ethereal music. Absolutely inevitable, certain, we will have to witness this death. No surprise, all signalled in advance and coldly absolutely showed. High hot white light behind. A crime choreographed utterly for the camera, and so for us. A car crash to kill Stavros’ son. Malvo knifes Mr Numbers. Was it the ribs, twisting to get answers? then a slit throat. Lester planting evidence in his brother’s home, improvising to include a pistol in his nephew’s backpack. (Shot, reverse shot Lester looks at the photo of the family, his brother, sister in law, nephew, pauses, reopens the gun chest. Ah, he’s relenting. Pulls out a pistol, makes sure its empty, then plants it in the nephews backback. Fuck.) I think this is coldest episode of crime TV I’ve ever watched. Not its violence, but its calculation in relation to us.
  • Season One, Episode Six, Fargo. Has stayed with me all night. All day. A cloak.