As a Minnesotan form birth, watching this film was like gazing into a societal mirror that amplified your homeland's imperfections (and I'm not talking about the over exaggerated accents). It seems like the more polite a culture tries to be, the harder it is to cope with your frustrations. In the fictional case of Fargo, Jerry Lundegaard falls victim to the traps of his own courtesy and foolishness. Trying to wear a mask of positivity while following through an elaborate scheme doesn't seem to work for him. Whether it's dealing with his job, father-in-law, or fake kidnappers, he never has the guts to stand up for himself. The time of year doesn't help either. Winter often makes people feel trapped by the bone-chilling bitterness of the arctic air. There's no relief of life's stresses by going outside and getting a breath of fresh air. It just leaves you cold and miserable.
From all the crime that ensues from the chain of rage that rampages through the film, the hero, Marge Gunderson seems to stay unfazed by the murders until the very end when she captures Gaear Grimsrud and has a one way conversation in the police cruiser. Right before he's intercepted by reinforcements she say's "I just don't understand it." This profound final thought addresses not only the murders, but every other injustice that happens in life. In the end Marge still has Norm and we can feel in comfort in the fact that there is always a silver lining, even in the bleakest winter wastelands.
