Snowy footprints last longer

The sprawling second season of ‘Fargo’ is brilliant, so far

In the spirit of “Fargo,” I will start with a parable.

Imagine two sophomores finishing up their summers at a prestigious creative writing workshop. One is a moody, black-teed bad boy from New Orleans whose dorm is decorated with posters of Friedrich Nietzsche and “Chinatown.” The other has a northern accent, a plaid-heavy wardrobe, and a politeness that belies a pitch-black sense of humor. They both get full scholarships because of their debut, award-winning short stories. 

The first student lets this initial success go to his head, eschewing the advice of his peers and instructors, and turns in a follow-up piece that’s so bad, the university rescinds its scholarship offer. The second student, on the other hand, consults with his more accomplished friends and mentors, happily inviting feedback and criticism in an effort to craft the best possible version of the story he wants to tell, and ultimately turns in a piece that is heralded as confirmation that this guy is the real deal, a great writer with a long future ahead of him. 

As you might have guessed, the two sophomores are television showrunners Nic Pizzolatto (“True Detective”) and Noah Hawley (“Fargo”).

“True Detective”’s second season suffered significantly from a convoluted plot and stilted writing. These issues seemed to stem from Pizzolatto’s creative hubris—he spent a fair amount of time during season one press interviews downplaying director Cary Fukunaga’s contributions and hogging all the credit for himself. Thus, when season two rolled around, we got a bloated, uneven mess helmed by a series of hack directors who lacked Fukunaga’s uniformly elegant vision but were reliably pliable to the whims of Pizzolatto. 

After slogging through the series, I feared the fate of my other favorite drama of 2014, FX’s “Fargo” (an adaptation of the 1996 Coen brothers film). As a friend and I piled up the Little Caesar’s and fell back in our couch the night of the premiere, I couldn’t help but throw up a quick prayer for Hawley and the gang.

It’s a relief to report that “Fargo”’s second season is, thus far, brilliant. Rarely is a show so utterly confident in its storytelling. 

The opening black-and-white vignette expertly sets the tone. The camera tracks across a field covered in arrow-filled dead bodies for the opening of the film “The Massacre at Sioux Falls.” Just as you’re wondering if you flipped to TCM by accident, the director runs onto the set to consult with one of the actors portraying a Native American. We find out everyone is just waiting for Ronald Reagan to finish getting his battle wound makeup applied. 

It’s a strange way to start the season, but it’s quintessential “Fargo”—you’re already as confused and off-balance as the characters. 

After the off-kilter opening, we jump to Luverne, Minnesota in 1979, a few hours south and several decades prior to the events of last season. Our moral compass is state trooper Lou Solverson (Patrick Wilson), a character first introduced in season one as a veteran, world-weary cop (played by Keith Carradine) haunted by a past incident in Sioux Falls—an incident toward which this season is almost certainly heading. In that sense, season two could be looked at as Solverson’s origin story, although he’s once again on the periphery, upstaged by evil men and morally compromised rubes. 

The premiere’s inciting incident is a gruesome massacre at a Luverne diner, the ramifications of which ripple through a sprawling set of idiosyncratic characters. 

There’s Ed and Peggy Blomquist, played by Kirsten Dunst and Jesse Plemons (“Meth” Damon from “Breaking Bad”), a simple couple whose small town life is disrupted when they cover up the fallout from a fatal accident. 

Then there’s the Gerhardt crime family, led by tough-as-nails matriarch Floyd (Jean Smart giving a master class), who struggles to keep her reckless offspring in line while contending with a not-so-friendly buyout offer from a Kansas City crime syndicate, repped by accountant Joe Bulo (Brad Garrett) and eloquent muscleman Mike Milligan (Bokeem Woodbine). 

And then of course there’s Solverson, following a trail of bodies and footprints with his fellow trooper (Ted Danson) while tending to his wife Betsy (Cristin Miliani), who’s slowly succumbing to cancer, and their baby daughter Molly (who will grow up to be the central protagonist in season one’s narrative). 

How do all these disparate characters come together? Hawley makes it look easy. His keen eye for small-town interconnectivity is key to what makes the show come alive. The first season was an intimate affair, a cutting look at the intersection of masculinity and violence. Season two seems to be taking the same route, yet on a much larger scale. Everyone is hunting for someone or something; actions have reactions, and no one is spared. It doesn’t matter where (or how) the bodies are buried, they’ll always be found. Footprints last longer in the Minnesota snow, after all.

For more TV reviews, read Joshua Kline's take on the second seasons of "True Detective" and "Halt and Catch Fire."