Robert Bianco

USA TODAY

One last go.

With one final, breathtaking blast, Fargo (FX, 10 ET/PT) ends its run Tuesday with a stunner that solidifies its place, not just as the year's best miniseries, but as one of the most satisfying ever made. And for viewers who have been burnt elsewhere, part of that satisfaction will no doubt stem from the happy fact that the story actually does conclude, without feint or cliffhanger or extra-mystery padding.

If for no other reason, embrace this conclusion as time well spent with a fabulous quartet of actors and characters. The driving force is Billy Bob Thornton as the impishly satanic Lorne Malvo, but there's equally irresistible work here from Martin Freeman as his increasingly morally unhinged foil, Lester Nygaard, and from Allison Tolman and Colin Hanks as the now happily married Molly and Gus, our heroes and links to a better world.

Obviously, it would be unfair to tell you how their story ends. But ultimately, their fate isn't the issue; what matters is that creator Noah Hawley, who wrote every episode, has made us care about these characters and kept us uncertain as to whether they'll survive. That was his job, and he has done it spectacularly well.

Tonight's last hour and a half charges ahead at a relentless pace, while still offering fans the pleasure of a few season-long callbacks, including Malvo's message to Gus about the nature of predators and the wisdom of staying out of their way. Cross the wrong path, as Lester and Malvo both did, and you come to regret it.

There are touches of humor, as you'd expect from a show based on a movie by Ethan and Joel Coen — and a great deal of bloodshed, as you'd also expect. This constant upping of TV's violence ante is troubling, but where Game of Thrones increasingly seems to use graphic violence as an enticement for a young male audience, Fargo uses it to make an artistic point. There's a line between the "moral" world and a world cut loose from civilization, and you can trace it with a sharp knife.

Nowhere is that difference more clearly articulated than in a speech from Bob Odenkirk's bumbling sheriff, Bill Oswalt. Up until now, he's mainly been used as a comic-relief fool and obstacle, but as he expresses his horror at "seeing the things people are capable of," you begin to wonder who's really the fool.

It's a lovely, small moment in a show where nothing is off pitch or out of place, from the actors, to the music, to the way director Matt Shakman intensifies the action without obscuring what's happening. Because with Fargo, you don't want to miss a moment.

If it has to go, rejoice that it's going out on top.