Fargo is well-titled, since the region as a whole, up-front and friendly to an absurd degree, is a major character unto itself, albeit stuffed to the seams with the Coen brothers' infamous wrinkles and eccentric dashes of character. That it all feels so strangely authentic (our auteurs grew up in the area) only makes it even harder to turn away; it's the unimagined point in time and space where Strange Brew meets Reservoir Dogs. Offset by the cordial, affable nature of the general population, this film's frequent forays into spontaneous bloodshed and calculated, if bumbling, barbarism are downright hypnotic. Despite fantastic performances from Steve Buscemi, Peter Stormare (the most visceral villains, scumbags with neither principals nor reservations) and William H. Macy (the real monster), the floor belongs to Frances McDormand. She thoroughly owns the screen as police chief Marge Gunderson, a pregnant ball of contradiction whose peachy exterior masks a tough, no-nonsense detective's intellect. Dense, rich and pointed, with an impressive appreciation for small details, this is a loaded hundred-minute ride that's most definitely in the argument for the Coens' best.