Kelly C

Fargo Prowling on the perimeter of society is the lone wolf, the primordial beast, the inhuman monster, circling the village with it’s quaint little fences, arbitrary customs and manners, and the collective delusion of it’s people who believe that laws and rules come from above them and must be obeyed. The beast is alive with its animalistic instincts for survival of the fitness intact. It is on the hunt. The beast is unrelenting, amoral and moves without awareness of the rules of civilization. Most cannot see it, cannot feel it, cannot sense it because their sensations have been sublimated by jelly donuts and blunted by the arbitrary walls of society that cause people to believe they are safe. Most have been domesticated into subjugation. The only one that truly feels the pull, who feels the yellow eyes in the dark is the consummate victim who has held on to her wild ways due to the hypervigilance needed for her to survive this American life, where power, politics and the law can be bought and the marginalized discarded and degraded without consequence. She carries in her chest the tiger heart, burning bright in the forest of the night. And it is this classic pairing of the only truly alive people on earth, the hunter and the hunted, that make the show electrifying, immortal.

I’ve thought of this movie often since I saw it years ago. My take seems to Differ greatly from the other reviews. I think this movie is about the nature of freedom; it’s about mental slavery; It’s about the slavery of addiction to substances, a desire to control. The warden holds it all in: his wife and child, held captive, his prisoners in a cell, while all along he’s his own prisoner unable to free himself from his rage, his emptiness, his rigidity, his nightly ritual scotch. The prisoner, on the other hand, finds a rare philosophical book on something a kin to mindfulness and is set free. His outer cage has no bearing, he is fluid and free in his mind.