Growing up in the Northern Midwest, I had a vague idea about what the movie "Fargo" was about. A cult classic written by the Cohen brothers who were Minnesota natives, it solidified our place in the United States as the overly nice and slightly awkward part of the country who could easily be identified by our accents. I personally wasn't even aware that we were perceived as having accents until someone brought it up; and then I couldn't stop hearing it, picking it over and analyzing how different our speech patterns were from the rest of the country. Common topics of conversation often turned to "How do you pronounce...?" or "how do you say...?" in order to test out the accent in its' chummy glory. Even in the wake of the new series with the same title from FX, which brings big, A-list names to pretend to become part of small towns such as Bemidji and Luverne, our good nature still defines us.
Aside from the obvious exaggeration of how the majority of us talk and the misleading title (the majority of the film actually takes place in Minneapolis and Brainerd), I took the movie "Fargo" at face-value; a darkly funny mystery that touched on the "what-ifs" of every day and small-town life. What if we took such drastic measures to alter our own lifestyle we had our own spouse kidnapped? What if it most likely spiraled our of our control? What if we kept creating web after web of lies that it eventually all collapsed on top of us? However, it wasn't until I chose to go to college four hours away in the college "twin cities" of Fargo-Moorhead that I realized how quickly the stereotype of Fargo and Minnesota in general completely unspooled and fell apart.
My only exposure to the Cohen brother's stereotype of Minnesota had been to several trips up to Hibbing or Duluth to visit relatives. While it doesn't completely fit the picture of people constantly dressed in to-the-calf parkas discussing the weather in various ways, the slight accents, friendly demeanor, and general sense of comfort one takes in the day-to-day tasks are all present as they were in the 1996 film. When I moved to the Fargo-Moorhead area for school a few years ago, there were several reactions to this; from lamenting the distance away from home, to affectionately stating that I would be making my new home in "the tundra", to my father mocking the accent with an elongated o in "Fargo" every time someone asked where his kid went to school, I was still confident in my decision and looked forward to embracing life in the (sort of) North.
Despite the brief 10 minute portrayal of Fargo in the film, it was not all hole-in-the-wall bars with flickering neon signs and shoddy wooden planks for walls nearly covered by snowdrifts. There was snow, and lots of it, but there was also culture, college students, and life. While I didn't directly live in Fargo, the easy access by a quick crossing of the Memorial Bridge brought us in to the city with no time wasted. During the summer, I spent hours riding my bike along the Red River, which brought me so much peace and tranquility, and nothing gave me a greater thrill than riding through downtown Fargo at 9 P.M. at night when the sun was still setting but the businesses would turn on their glowing signs to show that they were still open, around, and available. The sense of ease I experienced of just walking in to small boutiques, coffee shops and restaurants where open-minded and welcoming people are happy to have a conversation with you about their passion, their business or even the current events of the world was astounding. The echoing, haunting (if occasionally inconvenient) blare of a train horn at midnight as it crossed from Fargo to Moorhead (or vice versa), reminding every person that despite our ever advancing technology, there were few things still more powerful than the engines that have been carrying our goods for hundreds of years.
Farmer's markets, 1 A.M. artisan pizza, seeing independent movies on the silver screen, and marches and movements of peace that flooded the streets. That is Fargo. The modest and friendly nature of the people remain true to what the Cohen brothers scripted out for audiences in the late 90's. But the beige and gray lifestyle is watery and untrue to the colorful and vibrant nature that even the coldest of days in Fargo-Moorhead possesses.
Living in Fargo for four years has taught me that "Fargo" is a cultural phenomenon; it most likely will not be forgotten and it will define this region for quite a long time. However, experiencing the culture of this place and the possibilities for change it holds with its' population of young and open-minded people has convinced me that Fargo is more than some snow and a woodchipper; it's important, quirky, and full of life.
