You probably remember the woodchipper. It’s the image everyone associates with the Coen brothers' 1996 masterpiece—that spray of red against the blinding white snow of a North Dakota winter. When FX announced they were making a Fargo TV show, the collective internet eyeroll was deafening. Why touch perfection? How do you replicate that specific brand of "Minnesota Nice" mixed with nihilistic violence without it feeling like a cheap cover band?
But then Noah Hawley did something weird. He didn't remake the movie.
Instead, he built a sprawling, multi-generational crime anthology that somehow feels more like the Coens' DNA than anything else they've done lately. It’s a miracle it works. Honestly, the Fargo TV show on FX has managed to sustain a level of tension and dark whimsy over five seasons that makes the original film feel like a mere prologue.
The trick to making an anthology feel like a universe
The show operates on a "true crime" conceit that is, famously, a total lie. Every episode opens with the text claiming the events took place in Minnesota in a specific year and that the names have been changed to protect the survivors. It’s a gag. It’s been a gag since 1996. Yet, by sticking to this rigid format, Hawley creates a sense of history.
Take Season 2. It’s widely considered the high-water mark of the series. We go back to 1979 Luverne, Minnesota. We see a younger Lou Solverson—played by Patrick Wilson, taking over for Keith Carradine from Season 1—dealing with a triple homicide at a Waffle Hut. It’s not just a crime story; it’s a period piece about the death of the American dream and the post-Vietnam malaise. And then there's a UFO.
Yeah, a literal flying saucer.
🔗 Read more: Bad For Me Lyrics Kevin Gates: The Messy Truth Behind the Song
Most shows would buckle under that kind of absurdity. But in the world of the Fargo TV show on FX, the inexplicable is just part of the landscape. It’s about how ordinary people react to the extraordinary. Sometimes that's a professional hitman with a bowl cut, and sometimes it's a glowing craft in the sky. It works because the characters are so grounded in their polite, midwestern sensibilities.
Why casting is the secret weapon
The show has a knack for taking actors you think you know and turning them into something unrecognizable.
- Billy Bob Thornton as Lorne Malvo: He’s not a man; he’s a physical manifestation of chaos. The scene where he convinces a man to pee in his own boss’s gas tank just to see if he’ll do it? That defines the show’s philosophy.
- Kirsten Dunst as Peggy Blumquist: A delusional beautician who hits a mobster with her car and just... drives home with him stuck in the windshield. Dunst’s performance is a masterclass in "repressed manic energy."
- Chris Rock in Season 4: This was a gamble. Some people hated it. He played Loy Cannon, a 1950s crime boss in Kansas City. It was a departure from the "frozen tundra" aesthetic, focusing instead on the racial politics of organized crime. While it felt different, it kept that core Fargo theme: greed leads to a very polite kind of ruin.
The Season 5 resurgence and the return to basics
After the sprawling, slightly messy Kansas City experiment of Season 4, many wondered if the well had run dry. Then Season 5 dropped. It brought the Fargo TV show on FX back to its roots: a "simple" kidnapping gone wrong.
Juno Temple plays Dot Lyon, a seemingly normal housewife who turns out to be a survivalist MacGyver with a dark past. Opposite her is Jon Hamm as Sheriff Roy Tillman. Hamm plays a "constitutional lawman" who thinks he’s literally appointed by God. It’s terrifying because we all know guys who think they’re Roy Tillman.
The brilliance of this season lies in the subversion of expectations. In the original movie, Jerry Lundegaard is a pathetic loser. In Season 5, the "villain" is a powerful patriarch, but the "victim" is the smartest person in the room. It’s a fascinating flip of the power dynamics that usually define this genre.
💡 You might also like: Ashley Johnson: The Last of Us Voice Actress Who Changed Everything
The music and the visual language
You can’t talk about this show without mentioning Jeff Russo’s score. He takes the main theme from the film—that lonely, sweeping fiddle—and mutates it. Every season has a distinct sonic palette. Season 2 used heavy 70s prog-rock and percussion; Season 3 felt cold and digital.
Visually, the show uses the "dead center" framing that the Coens love. It makes the world feel symmetrical and intentional, which makes the sudden bursts of gore even more jarring. There is a specific way blood looks on snow. It’s a vibrant, sickening crimson that the cinematographers on the Fargo TV show on FX have turned into an art form.
Common misconceptions about the Fargo timeline
People get confused about how the seasons connect. They aren't just random stories; they are loosely woven together by bloodlines and coincidences.
- The Suitcase: The money buried by Steve Buscemi in the 1996 film is found by a character in Season 1 of the TV show. It’s the literal connective tissue.
- The Kitchen Brothers: Small characters in one season often have links to the crime syndicates in another.
- Mr. Wrench: The deaf assassin from Season 1 reappears in Season 3, proving that these characters inhabit a persistent world.
It’s not a "cinematic universe" in the way Marvel is. There’s no big crossover event coming. It’s more like a folk legend. These are the tall tales told in diners across the Midwest, where the devil is real and he’s wearing a parka.
The "Fargo" philosophy: Why bad things happen to "nice" people
At its heart, the show asks a single question: Why?
📖 Related: Archie Bunker's Place Season 1: Why the All in the Family Spin-off Was Weirder Than You Remember
Why did Lester Nygaard kill his wife over a snide comment? Why did Ed Blumquist help hide a body just to keep his dream of owning a butcher shop alive? The show suggests that "politeness" is just a thin veneer. Underneath that "Uff-da" and "Have a disciplined day" is a well of resentment and capability.
The villains are often more honest than the heroes. Lorne Malvo or V.M. Varga (played with disgusting brilliance by David Thewlis) don’t pretend to be nice. They are predators who find it hilarious that humans try to build societies based on rules. The "heroes," like Molly Solverson or Gloria Burgle, aren't action stars. They are just diligent people who do their jobs. They win not because they are stronger, but because they are patient.
How to watch it properly
If you’re just starting, don’t feel pressured to watch in order. Each season is self-contained. However, watching Season 1 before Season 2 gives you a deeper appreciation for the Solverson family tree. Season 4 is the outlier—it’s the "origin story" of the Kansas City mob, but it has the least in common with the snowy vibes of the rest of the series.
Honestly, the Fargo TV show on FX is one of the few instances where a TV adaptation outshines its source material in terms of depth. The movie is a 10/10, but the show is an entire library of midwestern noir.
Actionable steps for the Fargo enthusiast
If you’ve finished the series and are looking for more, don’t just rewatch the movie. Dive into the influences that Noah Hawley clearly pulled from.
- Read the source material of the Coens: Watch Miller's Crossing or A Serious Man. The TV show borrows the "cosmic indifference" of A Serious Man heavily, especially in Season 3.
- Track the "Easter Eggs": On your next watch, look for the recurring motifs. Oranges often signal a death is coming (a nod to The Godfather that the Coens also use).
- Check out the "Year 5" production notes: FX released several behind-the-scenes looks at how they choreographed the home invasion sequence in the first episode of Season 5. It’s a masterclass in spatial awareness in filmmaking.
- Look for the "Hanzee" connection: If you've watched Season 2 and Season 1, go back and look at the character Hanzee Dent very closely. There is a reveal at the end of Season 2 that completely changes how you view a major villain in Season 1.
The show isn't just about murder. It's about the stories we tell ourselves to justify our behavior. Whether it’s a corrupt sheriff in North Dakota or a timid insurance salesman in Bemidji, the tragedy is always the same: they could have just walked away. But then, we wouldn't have a show.