Fargo Love.
Mood:  lyrical
I have the misfortune to have a cold, which means that after getting a deadline project out the door this morning, I came home sick this afternoon. By happenstance, Fargo was playing on cable.

I am not usually a big fan of Oscar-winning films -- by and large, they tend to be large loads of overblown crap -- but Fargo is freaking brilliant. Absolutely every moment of it is riveting. A detail I noticed today, but never had done before, is that while very pregnant Margie is talking on the pay phones at the hotel, she is persistently and absent-mindedly tugging up the waistband of her maternity pants, of course located at low- to mid-ribcage. Brilliant detail! I spent most of my pregnancies doing that. Very low key, and so accurate.

The other thing I adore about that movie is the great love story between Norm and Margie Gunderson. They are not particularly pretty people, nor particularly young, nor are they shown having sex or with few clothes on. (In which they greatly resemble Ben and me, and we probably should all be grateful that you don't see them, or us, without clothes.) We don't see onscreen passion between Norm and Margie; but moment by moment they show their love for each other in a million little ways, just saying kind things and being considerate to each other. People, this is real love, the love that lasts, the love that means absolutely everything. Forget the epic love stories. They end in epic breakups.

The greatest love story of all time, found (surprise!) in the person of middle-aged, middle-class Upper Midwesterners. Mostly unsung, and extremely cool. Check it out.