'Fargo' review: Season 5 is bleakly funny, smartly written

WHAT IT'S ABOUT Dorothy "Dot" Lyon (Juno Temple) appears to have the perfect Minnesota life — wife to loving and attentive Wayne Lyon (David Rysdahl) and mother of an adoring daughter. But she has a complicated past, which arouses the suspicion of her difficult mother-in-law Lorraine Lyon (Jennifer Jason Leigh) — who runs the biggest debt collection agency in the country — and her compliant in-house lawyer, Danish Graves (Dave Foley).

Meanwhile, just to the west, North Dakota Sheriff Roy Tillman (Jon Hamm) and his son, Gator (Joe Keery), have been searching for Dot for years, and procure some help in the effort — Ole Munch (Sam Spruell), a high plains drifter with an evil eye.

In the commission of this search, crimes will most likely be committed (they usually are) which will come to the attention of the local constabulary, Minnesota police deputy Indira Olmstead (Richa Moorjani) and North Dakota deputy Witt Farr (Lamorne Morris).

As usual, this fifth season was created and written by Noah Hawley.

MY SAY After a fourth season set farther south, "Fargo" has returned home to those vast plains where the early snow is driven by a hard, remorseless north wind. The people are still nice up there in Minn-ee-soda, or "Minnesota Nice," which a title card helpfully (or redundantly) defines as "an aggressively pleasant demeanor, often forced …"

It's good to be home, and for "Fargo," pretty much a requisite. The Coen Brothers long ago established a template most easily defined as a series of opposites — good versus evil, or innocence versus depravity. Those tend to shape a story that unfolds with primal force under that endless sky. For the Coens as for Hawley, violence is as American as apple pie. It's also convulsive and shocking. If anything, Hawley has over-adjusted for that part of the formula this season.

Otherwise, it's back to basics for the fifth. The universe is random and gives no thought to the fates of mice or Minnesotans. Good people die just as easily as bad ones, while those who survive are as hard as the land in January. Dot Lyon is referred to by others as a "tiger." Her mother-in-law from hell, Lorraine, has a huge sign mounted behind her office desk that reads "NO." Sheriff  Tillman is a self-described "constitutional lawman" with a Biblical sense of right and wrong. When meting out justice, he tends to over-adjust too.

The nice people of "Fargo" — Wayne, Witt and Indira — are befuddled, as usual. They can't fathom the motives of those who keep dark secrets, and must work assiduously to uncover them. That's the other thing about "Fargo" characters. Along with Minnesota-nice, they're Minnesota-stubborn.

Then, shadowing all of these mortals, is a malevolent force that's both unknowable and unstoppable. That's a unique Hawley touch, and an effective one. Recall the season when aliens from outer space may (or maybe not) came to Bemidji. This season the mystery is supernatural, and revealed in flashback. It's puzzling, or perhaps just part of a puzzle we're never entirely meant to assemble.

In spite of all this or because of all this, "Fargo" is still funny, bleakly so, and smartly written. Best of all, it's effectively cast three legendary actors (after "Ted Lasso," is Temple now officially "legendary"?) in memorable roles. Very memorable.

BOTTOM LINE Back to basics, and to Minn-ee-soda