Slick and strangely beautiful: Fargo gets better and better
Early in his career, Ewan Mcgregor acquired a reputation for screen nudity. The Scottish actor stripped off so frequently on film, he joked that it was a one-man campaign to redress the balance of gender objectification. “It’s just a feminist thing that I do,” he said at the time.
So, at the grand old age of 46, is the father-of-four keeping his kit on nowadays? Och, no. Mcgregor’s bare bottom stole the show in Fargo (Channel 4), filling the screen as he emerged naked from the bath. Maybe one day, if it’s tastefully done and isn’t gratuitous, Mcgregor will consider keeping his clothes on for a role.
The Emmy-winning, blackly comic US drama, inspired by the Coen brothers’ cult film, returned for a third run, this time set in 2010. I followed a fresh “true crime” story and another gallery of eccentric characters – with additional interest coming from the presence of two Brits in its all-star cast.
Mcgregor excelled, the odd slip in his accent aside, in the dual role of brothers Emmit and Ray Stussy. The former was the self-crowned “Parking Lot King of Minnesota”, a property mogul and all-american success story. Balding, beer-bellied parole officer Ray resentfully blamed his big brother for his less blessed life.
When Emmit refused to lend Ray money to buy an engagement ring for his fiancée, the superbly named Nikki Swango (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), it sparked a chaotic chain of events that culminated in double murder. Meanwhile, Lancastrian David Thewlis slid into view as villainous VM Varga, a sinister “businessman” working on behalf of the mob.
The original film was led by a strong, resourceful female, with Frances Mcdormand winning an Oscar for her memorable performance as the pregnant police chief. Women were in charge again here. Recently divorced mother Gloria (Gone Girl’s Carrie Coon) was the new sheriff in town, for whom the case soon became personal. Winstead was charismatic as competitive bridge player Nikki, who ran rings around hapless Ray and proved cool in a crisis.
The script’s homely “Minnesota nice” dialect – all “Oh ya, sure”, “Gosh, darn”, “The who now?”, “You betcha” and “Oh geez” – playfully undercut the seething sibling rivalry and sudden bursts of violence. A stylishly eclectic soundtrack mixed jazz with big-haired rock and Russian harmonic chanting.
It was cinematically shot, too – full of painterly compositions, amusingly off-kilter angles and Tarantino-esque swaggering slo-mo. Even a montage featuring streams of urine was strangely beautiful. With its sly wit and visual flair, the third series of Fargo is already shaping up to be the best yet. Darn tootin’? You betcha.
Everyone was talking about Brexit on 24 Hours in A&E (Channel 4). The series was shot last June, around the time of the EU referendum. Staff and patients were wearing “In” or “Out” badges. Everyone was speculating about the result. Some had laid bets on it. A year later, of course, everyone is still talking about Brexit. It’s the new weather.
The fly-on-the-hospital-wall documentary followed patients treated within the same 24-hour period at St George’s in south London, home to one of Britain’s busiest A&E departments.
This episode focused on two teenage boys from contrasting walks of life. Shea, 17, was injured in a serious knife assault which, as doctors evocatively put it, “skewered his liver”.
Public schoolboy Bob, also 17, impaled his leg on a fence while taking a short cut home. Forget the fact that he’d almost severed a major artery and bled to death, the impact of the injury only dawned on Bob when he realised that paramedics had cut off his favourite moleskin trousers. “My molers!” he brayed in dismay.
Call me stony-hearted but neither of the wounded duo were terribly sympathetic. However, it all whizzed past jauntily enough. 24 Hours in A&E has stealthily become a mainstay of the schedules, now on its 13th series. It’s masterfully filmed and edited to tell several life-or-death stories per episode, lightening the mood by mixing in snippets of small talk from the waiting room.
The heroes were the staff (especially jovial consultant Rathan, who won £500 by betting on Brexit) and the patient’s mothers. Both bungling adolescents had their endlessly supportive, forgiving mothers by their bedside. God bless the NHS and the nation’s mums. Together, they can fix almost anything.