It’s somewhat odd that The Big Lebowski has become the Coen brothers movie to achieve true cult status: quoted ad nauseum, viewed on repeat, and even inspiration for theatrical revivals in which filmgoers dress up as Jeff Bridges’ Jeff “The Dude” Lebowski. Because despite all the laughs, this is also assaultive, unrelenting, and despairing. It’s at once the most fun and the least fun of their films. From a certain, hazy vantage point, The Big Lebowski is a blast. But it’s also fair to say that the movie—with John Goodman’s Walter Sobchak unleashing a torrent of f-bombs and threats of violence, The Dude suffering regular beatdowns from a rotating cast of goons, and the particularly arbitrary death of the movie’s most benign character—is deeply unpleasant. Sam Elliott’s mysterious cowboy seems to recognize this when he asks The Dude if he has to use quite so many cuss words. The Dude’s reply? “What the f*** are you talking about?” Of course, there’s also the undeniably giddy stuff: the inspired, slow-motion opening titles sequence, which transforms a bowling alley into a playground for trick camera shots; The Dude’s dream, which combines said bowling, a cheapo porn plot, and a classic Hollywood production number; and, of course, Bridges’ pantheon performance. From hippie cliches and Coen catchphrases, Bridges delivers a deeply lived-in portrayal of a man whose life has been reduced to soiled t-shirts, white russians, and a bowling league. The Dude is a lost soul nearly roused to former conviction—inspired to wrestle with the questions of meaning and morality that Coen brothers movies usually wrestle with—except … you know … I mean … ah, f*** it.
