Fargo Pushes Molly To The Limit

A long, long time ago, before Dave and I were married, I told him a story about dealing with a situation so frustrating -- I don't remember what, and it doesn't matter -- that I lost it and started crying what I described as "tears of rage." He thought this was hilarious, and claimed that rage tears were something I invented. Even if John Walsh hadn't already disabused Dave of this notion, the latest Fargo does so beautifully.

We know that Deputy Solverson hasn't quite cracked the case of who killed Sam Hess, and why. But we know that she's gotten a lot closer than anyone else in Boise or Duluth has. We also know she's convinced enough that her theory of the crime is worth pursuing that, while investigating it on the sly, she ended up with a one-spleen deficit. Benefiting from circumstances, Lester manages to sell Bill Oswalt on his nonsense story about Chazz while Molly's recovering from GETTING SHOT, and by the time she returns, the case of Pearl's murder is all buttoned up, and Chazz is awaiting trial.

But Molly's not like Gus. She didn't just fall into police work because they weren't hiring at the post office: she actually takes this seriously. She takes it so seriously, in fact, that she assumes the only reason Bill hasn't come around to her way of thinking is that she hasn't been sufficiently passionate or convincing yet, so the first thing she does upon returning from emergency surgery is put together a whole Crazy Wall to be an undeniable visual aid that, she assumes, Bill won't be able to deny once he sees it all laid out in front of him. But when Bill shoots her down, it's not because he doesn't find her theory persuasive: it's that the case is closed and he's not going to bother with any evidence that might require him to reopen it, particularly not for her. Whatever loose ends still remain have been left to the talents of another officer that even Bill thinks is an idiot.

Cue the tears of rage.

Anyone who's ever cried at work knows that crying at work is one of the worst things you can do. It's bad enough when you're crying about something that's not even work-related, like a piece of awful news you get when you just happen to be at work. But when you're crying at work because you're so frustrated and heartbroken that your body literally doesn't know what else to do, it's even horribler. And for most of us, whatever is so infuriating that it would cause tears of rage isn't actually a life-and-death issue even if it feels like one, but that's not the case for Molly. One guy is going down for murder while another one goes free, and (mostly) because Molly's chief is too stubborn. The story of the nice breakfast his wife made him -- wrapped it in tin foil to keep it warm -- is more interesting to him than the possibility of a wrongful conviction. At least Gus has the grace to be embarrassed by what a shitty cop he is; Bill just wants to get through the day, have a couple of greyhounds, and leave crime at the office.

When we get to the last third of the episode and find that a year has passed, it's a relief to see that Gus has fulfilled his true destiny working for the "U.S. Mail" (really, USPS? You're not going to license your real logos? Aren't you in the middle of going bankrupt?). And while I was happy for Molly to see her not just married to Gus but hugely pregnant, I think we were all probably concerned with the possibility that domesticity might make her as complacent as Bill. The Molly that gets into bed at the end of the episode is clearly at a crossroads, wondering whether the Bills of the world really do have the right idea, and that carrying on holy crusades is a poor use of a sensible woman's time.

But the Molly who was pushed to tears of rage in Bill's office a year before is the one who still has that Crazy Wall in what will soon be the baby's room. And thank God.