(This review contains mild spoilers. Few specifics are given, but events are alluded to)

After True Detective completely squandered all of its good will from year one, all eyes were on Fargo, the second of last year’s extremely successful one-off seasons. Instead of shifting locations like True Detective, Fargo took an arguably more drastic turn by setting its second season in a different time period altogether. By transplanting to 1979, the series was able to introduce a whole new cast, visual style, story, and soundtrack. And yet, the whole thing still felt like a Fargo story should.

But what, exactly, is a “Fargo” story? That such a description can exist at all is credit to the work of showrunner Noah Hawley. Despite the lack of any actual input from the Coen Brothers, Hawley has absorbed and internalized all things Coen and managed to create a series overflowing with the essence of their storytelling. At this point, Fargo is defined by happenstance, misunderstandings, and human error. It always involves well-meaning people who get in over their heads, but beyond these criteria, the rest is free to shift and change.

Hawley also smartly incorporates elements of other Coen Brothers movies without making them feel out of place. Character relationships have echos from other Coen movies, and certain imagery, such as the UFOs that repeatedly interfere with the story, have origins in other Coen works. The music, too, borrows heavily from their library, including many covers of songs that appeared in O Brother Where Art Thou and The Big Lebowski.

So season 2 of Fargo, despite its time-jump and stylistic changes, feels right at home. What else is great about it? Well, there’s the cast, possibly the best ensemble of any drama series this year. Patrick Wilson nails the small-town everyman charm that Keith Carradine lent to his character last year. He’s the perfect figure for a Fargo story to center around: kind and warm to those around him, sympathetic toward those in danger, but lacking naivete and capable of springing into action when necessary. He’s right at home with his daughter Molly’s character in season 1, or Frances McDormand’s Marge in the film.

Ted Danson, too, evokes a small-town charm mixed with professionalism. Meanwhile, the warring gangs are full of strong, distinct characters played by terrific actors. The Gerhardt clan is led by Jean Smart, who imbues her character with a sense of intelligence and worldliness that is tragically stymied in her position. Her sons are all distinct, with motivations that often run counter to each other and plant the seeds for their inevitable downfall.

Meanwhile, the Kansas City mafia is headed up by Bokeem Woodbine’s Mike Milligan, a consummate professional. Woodbine is excellent here, portraying Milligan as a man who’s cool under pressure, but knows that he’s still a small-time crook in the grand scheme of things.

Last but certainly not least are the Blumquists, played by Kirsten Dunst and Jesse Plemons. Their roles are akin to William H. Macy’s in the film, or Martin Freeman’s in the first season: the “innocents” who make a very bad decision that snowballs as the story continues. Dunst shines especially bright here, beginning the season as a confined woman with big dreams and slowly descending into insanity. Her scenes with a captive late in the run are some of the best of the year, hilariously dark yet played with a mid-western kindness.

The whole season congeals into a solid whole, one that is both perfectly familiar to Coen fans and completely unpredictable as well. It seems effortless on the screen, despite the sheer number of risks taken and the lack of an obvious narrative arc. To achieve such familiarity from so many new elements requires a masterful hand, and Noah Hawley has proven himself to be the perfect steward for channeling the Coens into the new television landscape. He’s gained our trust, and I look forward to seeing what he brings to season 3.