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Film Features Film/TV

The OGs: Chris Rock Shines in Fargo’s Brilliant Season 4

America is the great melting pot. Immigrants from all over the world come here to get their chance at a new life in the Land of Opportunity. They take on our ways — our belief in equality and liberty — and, eventually, a bit of their culture becomes a part of the mix. That’s how we got pizza, rock-and-roll, and the best organized crime in the world.

The immigrant experience in the Midwest is a prime example of how the melting pot works. At the turn of the 20th century, Jews ran the crime syndicates of Kansas City. Then, after World War I and an influenza pandemic shook up the country, a new, tight-knit, ethnically based group versed in extortion, racketeering, and violence arrived to challenge “The Hebrews.” The dominance of the Irish mob in the “Paris of the Plains” lasted only 14 years until the Cosa Nostra arrived.

You’re darn tootin’ — (above, center) Jason Schwartzman leads Fargo’s Fadda family.

Thanks to The Godfather, the Italian mafia are the popular face of organized crime. The Fadda family ruled the Midwestern rackets until 1949, when their dominance was challenged by the Cannons, a Black gang. They, too, were an ethnic crime organization who banded together for mutual protection and economic advancement while fleeing Jim Crow persecution in their own country.

Thus begins season four of Fargo, showrunner Noah Hawley’s sprawling anthology series inspired by the Coen Brothers’ 1996 film masterpiece. The original Fargo remains an unassuming tour de force of unhinged violence and Midwest manners. Frances McDormand’s portrayal of Marge Gunderson, the pregnant, small-town police chief who unravels a clumsy tangle of kidnapping and murder, earned her the first of two Academy Awards. Her husband, Joel Coen, received his half of the Best Screenplay Oscar for the film. They are responsible for the tonal tightrope act that makes Fargo unique. When Marge’s combination of decency and empathy comes up against Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy) and his half-baked plan to kidnap his wife, which leads to multiple homicides, she calmly unravels the crime. Only at the end, after five people are dead and she’s taking the murderers to justice, does she contemplate the big picture. “All for what? For a little bit of money? There’s more to life than a little money, you know.”

The three seasons of Fargo FX has produced so far have dispelled any skepticism I might have had as to whether Hawley and company can recapture Fargo‘s lightning in a bottle. Each season has told an independent story of crime and dubious punishment set in the upper Midwest, with the second season, which saw Kirsten Dunst and Jesse Plemons trying to cover up a hit-and-run while being stalked by a North Dakota crime family — and sheriff Ted Danson — being the best. For season four, Chris Rock stars as Loy Cannon, the upstart head of the Black crime syndicate that is moving into the KC territory with more smarts and subtlety than the Italian powers-that-be.

Chris Rock runs a rival crime syndicate moving in on the Faddas’ territory.

When the balance of criminal power is threatened, the crime families have a tradition that’s intended to build trust between them. The syndicate leaders trade youngest sons, raising them in rival families — as hostages and as real-life examples of the melting pot. It’s a bold plan that, judging from the lengthy opening sequence, has never worked. At best, it only delays the inevitable betrayal.

Still, the uneasy alliance is holding until, in true Fargo fashion, random fate intervenes. The Fadda patriarch (Tommaso Ragno) is killed in a freak accident, leaving his less-experienced son Josto (Jason Schwartzman) in charge, and setting up power plays both between and within the rival gangs.

Hawley, who wrote and directed the first two episodes, spends most of the initial two hours introducing a massive cast of characters. The most impressive is Jessie Buckley, recently seen in I’m Thinking of Ending Things, who slowly reveals the depths of Nurse Mayflower’s psychosis. E’myri Crutchfield is mesmerizing as Ethelrida Smutny, a 16-year-old savant who sees her parents being drawn into the coming conflagration. Rock devotes his considerable gifts toward summoning the gravitas expected of a crime boss; his scenes with consigliere Doctor Senator (Glynn Turman) recall Brando and Duvall in The Godfather.

Fargo has been one of the best-looking shows on television throughout its run. Season four continues that tradition with leaf-swept scenes of idyllic Midwestern autumn. As does Lovecraft Country, one of Hawley’s ambitions is to tackle racism through the lens of genre stories. So far, Fargo is neat and focused where Lovecraft Country is scattered and visceral. If I can find flaw in Fargo, it’s that it is taking its sweet time to get to the meat of the story. But there’s plenty of pleasure to be had watching Hawley set up the pieces on his game board, and I’ll be coming back for more.

Fargo Season 4 is on FX and Hulu.

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Book Features Books

Summer Reading 2016

The Fireman by Joe Hill

William Morrow, $28.99, 768 pp.

Stephen King is royalty in more than name — he is the bona fide king of horror novels, and his son, Joe Hill, is poised to inherit the throne. Hill has been steadily cranking out compelling fiction since he arrived on the scene with his chilling short story collection, 20th Century Ghosts (PS Publishing), in 2005, and his newest novel, The Fireman, may stand as his best yet.

The Fireman takes place in the weeks and months after a new pandemic begins to ravage the planet. The world, including the novel’s protagonist, Harper Grayson, watches in terror as a parasitic fungus spreads across the globe. Once a person is infected with the spore, they run the risk of spontaneous combustion. What’s worse, no one knows how the spore spreads or what triggers a person’s going up in flames once they have been infected.

The novel’s focus is on how we cope with fear, and, though Harper lives with constant awareness that her life can literally go up in smoke at any moment, her determination to appreciate each day remaining to her makes her an inspiring character and the perfect protagonist for Hill’s pandemic novel. She stands as one of the strong female protagonists who are becoming a (welcome) trend in science fiction and horror novels (See also Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer and Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel).

The end result is a novel that will leave you wondering how you blazed (pun intended) through more than 700 pages in just a few sittings. In fact, the book’s weight may be the only real deterrent to reading it, but look at the bright side — you won’t want to part with Harper, Allie, or the Fireman once you’ve met them, and for 768 pages you won’t have to. — Jesse Davis

You Will Know Me by Megan Abbott

Little, Brown and Company, $26, 342 pp.

I read several of Megan Abbott’s novels before I realized that they are YA. It’s Abbott’s preferred subject matter that makes them so: teen girls. In books such as The Fever and Dare Me, Abbott has created a virtual Bad Girls Club — cheerleaders driven psycho by competition, sisters who put themselves in harm’s way for some control, schoolmates taken by hysteria in a bid to belong, and so on. Abbott seems to tap into that thing that makes ordinary teen girls so dangerous in that toxic mix of hormones and lack of sense of self, and then she dials it up a tick or two to homicidal.

Her latest Little Miss Danger in You Will Know Me is Devon Knox, an elite gymnast. The lives of Mom, Dad, and little brother all revolve around her schedule. Spare funds are sucked into leotards and treadmills. It’s as if the four of them make up a machine that has the sole purpose of getting to the Olympics. Then someone dies.

What follows is not so much a whodunnit because the “aha” moment can be intuited all along. Instead, it’s a slow peeling away of lies and stubborn beliefs — all that stuff that tends to bury the truth.

Perhaps the dominant strand through the story, beyond the teen drama, is the complicity of grown folks. Devon’s mother recognizes something in her daughter that the parent in her can’t express; Devon’s father, the girl’s biggest cheerleader, may be the most harmful influence of all. — Susan Ellis

The Sun & the Moon & the Rolling Stones by Rich Cohen

Spiegel & Grau, $30, 400 pp.

When I first received a copy of The Sun & the Moon & the Rolling Stones, I put it to the side, where I was prepared to let it sit unread. Cohen is a fine writer and reporter for Rolling Stone and traveled with the Stones beginning in the 1990s with the band’s Voodoo Lounge tour. I saw them at the Liberty Bowl on that tour. They were good, but who the hell wants to read an entire book on ’90s-era Stones?

I browsed through the book, though, to find it’s actually a history of the band, so I was a bit more intrigued. But still, come on, it’s been told before. And it’s all here — Mick and Keith’s meeting on the train platform after all those years, the blues, Stones vs. Beatles, the slumbering first hint of “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction,” and the drugs, drugs, drugs. It seems that every new generation of writers has to discover the group, and, since Cohen and I are roughly the same age, this is mine.

And therein lies the magic — seeing that long and rich history through a new set of eyes, a new set of interviews that, albeit coming from the usual cast of characters, are now tinged with age and perspective and (dare I say?) wisdom. And there are some nuggets in here, even for someone who’s read the articles and biographies and memoirs. For instance, I’d never heard that the Hells Angels attempted to assassinate Mick Jagger in retaliation for the botched Altamont concert. The 1979 plan to come ashore as the singer vacationed at Andy Warhol’s estate in Montauk was aborted only after their boat overturned in “a freakish swell,” leaving the Angels to swim for their lives.

Cohen’s prose is good, if not a bit over the top at times, just as rock-and-roll should be (he was an initial collaborator with Jagger and Martin Scorsese on the recently canceled HBO series Vinyl). “The Stones are a story that I’ve studied all my life,” he writes. “I’ve studied it as the ancients studied war. It’s my Hemingway, Dickens, Homer. I’ve studied it in books, on vinyl, and up close. Yet it keeps surprising me.” — Richard J. Alley

Before the Fall
By Noah Hawley
Grand Central Publishing, $26, 400 pp.

A private jet takes off from Martha’s Vineyard heading to New York’s Teterboro Airport with 11 souls aboard. Eighteen minutes later it ditches into the ocean and only two survive — a down-on-his-luck artist and the 4-year-old son of media mogul David Bateman. This scenario sets up Noah Hawley’s novel Before the Fall, a smooth flight of fiction, from takeoff to its satisfying conclusion.

The book is broken into chapters delving into each character’s backstory — characters that are no longer players within the present-day story. But it’s these backstories that help to unfurl the mystery of why the plane went down. The passengers include a hedge-fund manager who has been laundering money for enemy nations such as North Korea and Iran, and is due for indictment; Bateman’s 10-year-old daughter, a victim of kidnapping earlier in her life; the security man hired to guard the family around the clock; the captain and co-pilot; and a flight attendant.

As the painter, Scott Burroughs, struggles to right his life and make sense of his place as a crash survivor and hero, he encounters the difficulty of staying out of the public eye. A blowhard television pundit the likes of Rush Limbaugh or Glenn Beck, who works for Bateman’s ALC Network (think: FOX), works to turn the tragedy and the improbability of a poor painter being only one of two survivors into a Kardashian-like “news item.”

In addition to novels, Hawley has penned scripts for television and film, and is currently executive producer, writer, and showrunner on FX’s series Fargo. His experience and skill shows here as the back-and-forth storytelling is quick-paced and compelling, yet its whodunit component is just beneath the surface as it is the characters themselves who move the story along. I would put this book at the top of any summer reading list, as long as your travel plans involve a long drive and not a short flight. — Richard J. Alley

Everyone Brave is Forgiven
By Chris Cleave
Simon & Schuster, $26.99, 432 pp.

I read two books while on vacation that I will give my stamp as proven beach reads. One is the biography of a rock-and-roll band and the other is a novel enmeshed in the bombing of London during Germany’s blitzkrieg of World War II. This passage from The Sun & the Moon & the Rolling Stones bridges the two books with my hometown sensibilities: “Being fifteen when Hitler becomes a Nazi makes you [Chicago bluesman] Lewis Jones. Being the same age when Elvis releases “Heartbreak Hotel” makes you [Rolling Stones founder] Brian Jones.”

Everyone Brave is Forgiven joins 2014’s All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr and The Invisible Bridge by Julie Orringer four years before as three astounding novels set in the early years of WWII. These books are not stories seen through the lens of American field glasses, there is no Roosevelt stepping in to make speeches and save the day here. These are tales of heartbreak and physical pain and a sensation that the world was truly ending.

So it’s perfect for the beach!

Everyone Brave is Forgiven opens as the Germans are pushing into Paris. London is preparing, but the main characters — Mary, a young socialite; and Tom, an education administrator — are untouched by what looms ahead. This is a touching point of view for a book about war: that moment just before all hell breaks loose. That moment when there is still love in the air and humor in conversation, and when possibility is everything.

Needless to say, things don’t stay rosy for long. Mary sheds her station to, first, teach school, and then work more directly in the war effort. Tom clings to his love for Mary even as guilt pervades his heart when his best friend, Alastair, writes home about life on the front lines. Mary’s concern for a student of hers, an African-American boy who is the son of an American entertainer, shows the power of the protectors during times of crisis particularly well. Through the death and destruction — and the eradication of any possibility — Cleave finds a light that shines through. — Richard J. Alley

The Innocents (A Quinn Colson Novel)
By Ace Atkins
G.P. Putnam’s Sons, $27, 384 pp.

Perhaps the scariest aspect of the gruesome murder in Jericho, Mississippi, is the closeness of it all. New York Times bestselling author Ace Atkins’ fictional Tibbehah County lies only 100 miles away from Memphis, and creates an uneasy proximity to the well-crafted crime and corruption that lurks so near.

The latest in Atkins’ “Quinn Colson” series finds the titular protagonist, fresh from another tour of duty in Afghanistan, investigating the murder of a girl who has been set on fire walking down an empty highway. Before delving into the intrigues of backwater murder, Atkins takes time to painstakingly construct the danger and desperation of those who choose to live their lives in Jericho. Crime is heavy, while rape, murder, and racism are everyone’s closest neighbors. By the time we see the burning body of 17-year-old Milly Jones walking down the deserted highway, we know exactly what to expect from Jericho and why the city can’t handle the attention of an impending media circus.

While Atkins nails the application of a dreary and depressing setting, the buildup and wide range of character perspectives sets the ball rolling a little too late. The murder doesn’t take place until about page 130, which asks for a bit of commitment from the undecided reader. Plus, with so many scattered contributors to the narrative, it’s hard to really feel connected to many of the characters, save for the recurring Quinn Colson and current Sheriff Lillie Vergil.

The Innocents is still a good read. I’d recommend starting with the first Quinn Colson novel in order to be familiar with the recurring cast of characters and the Colson family dynamic. Several figures from his past are frequently referenced, and while they aren’t crucial to the storyline, they do add to the ongoing Colson narrative. Overall, The Innocents is a decent read. Pacing issues affect the plotline, but Atkins pulls in his readers with another dark look at some of the buried darkness in the Deep South. — Sam Cicci