I first saw Fargo in a grand, opulent, and beatifully restored 1920s movie theatre, now used for "special screening" films and the more accessible arthouse flicks. Seeing Fargo was my first time in this theatre, and I return on a semi-regular basis. I am glad to have had such a wonderful introduction, both to the theatre and to the film. In both respects, Fargo is classic cinema: worthy of being seen in the palatial grandeur of the best movie houses, and the kind of movie that is well-remembered when discovering such wonderful old places. Like the best output of the Coen Brothers, this is a remarkable character study relying on dark humor and cold realism (no pun intended) in creating a complicated and troubled scene of human emotions, troubles, and motives. Its greatest success is in attributing each of its characters with a complexity of characteristics: each one can be liked in his or her own way, and each is presented with such realistic vision that the viewer is suspended in his predicaments. The ability to capture the viewer is one attribute of a film that makes it great, and Fargo brilliantly displays that ability in the most subtle and quietly profound ways.