In the 1990s the younger generation of independent filmmakers gained their prestige with some odd movies, movies that were both grim and noir-ish but with an almost nonchalant twist of comedy running through all the nastiness. This was the kind of picture in which the Brothers Coen specialised. Fargo is among their purest expressions of that type, a grisly thriller set in a snowbound Minnesota that, despite its inherent darkness, comes across as humane and affectionate.

While the New Wave-influenced directors showed off an abundance of technique, the Coens and their generation have tended more towards minimalism. There's an elegant simplicity to their approach, with few camera moves or obvious artifice. That's not to say the Coens were directing on autopilot. The camera may not move but there's a lot of thought gone into those static shots. We see a beleaguered William H. Macy at his desk while cars rushing by on the freeway behind him seem to mirror his nervous jitters. In the opposing shot of the indignant couple, the array of statuettes makes it look as if the whole room's ganging up on him. It's a kind of meaningful shot composition that is actually rather witty. This triumph of the image over technicality allows the Coens to really bring out some detail. Many filmmakers may attach a camera to the front of a car for a bit of high-speed action, but in Fargo we have such a shot pointing down at the road surface in the headlights, picking out every little crack and grain. The Coens have really painted a world with palpable texture.

But just as character seems to live in the very landscape of Fargo, it also lives in the actual characters, brought to vividness by a cast that's at just the right level of quirky. What's neat about Frances McDormand is that she is comical without actually doing a comedy performance. Other than a slightly strained accent, its all done in very genuine timings and expressions, which stops it slipping into farce and weaves it well with the movie's more unpleasant moments. William H. Macy is full of twitches and mannerisms, but he just manages to pull it inside the realms of believability. And Steve Buscemi too is straddling that delicate line on the edge of reality. In short, the people that inhabit the world of Fargo give us this impression of normality stretched to its limits, but normality all the same.

Unlike your average thriller, Fargo is not exactly a tightly-constructed ride of suspense and excitement, but this doesn't mean it's not enjoyable and engrossing. Rather than seeming to have some grand theme or focused structure, it's as if the screenplay just grew organically out of a number of elements. Like many works by the Brothers Coen, Fargo is rich with the weirdness of America, with ominous statues of local heroes and checkout girls grinning vacantly like a taxi driver from Total Recall. Brilliantly offset by a doom-laden and very Nordic score from Carter Burwell as well as a sprinkling of familiar American hits, it scampers smoothly from one mood to the next. This isn't a big movie by any stretch, but it in its constant, delightful diversity, it seems to be part of some large and tangible world.