The Big Lebowski (1998, 119 minutes)
It’s a frequent topic of debate among Coen brothers devotees: Which of their groundbreaking movies is the top dog? The Big Lebowski gets plenty of action, no doubt. When Jeff Bridges played at Neil Young’s Bridge School Benefit a few years ago, he was greeted warmly by a chorus of “Duuuude!”
Let’s get one thing straight. It may say “Jeffrey Lebowski” on his birth certificate, but nobody calls him that. He’s known by everyone as “the Dude” (Bridges), and he’s got the look going to prove it: triple-x, floral-print sweat pants, open-toed sandals and a white v-neck T-shirt under a floppy button-up sweater. It’s a wardrobe you could find anywhere, sitting unsold for years, at a Saturday-morning garage sale, now worn by a hulking man with flowing hair and beard that haven’t been trimmed for some time.
Here’s the Dude’s problem. He’s been beaten up by a pair of goons who’ve somehow mistaken him for the other “Jeffrey Lebowski,” the wealthy one whose wife has run up large, unpaid gambling debts. Even worse than getting his head repeatedly dunked into his less-than-spotless toilet, the thugs pee on the Dude’s favorite oriental rug, the one that holds the room together.
The next morning finds the Dude at the local bowling alley, moaning to his pals Walter (John Goodman) and Donny (Steve Buscemi). Seldom the voice of reason, Walter becomes so angry at an opponent’s foul-line violation he pulls an automatic pistol from his baggy shorts and threatens to shoot Smokey (Jimmy Dale Gilmore) if he enters an incorrect score. “Am I the only one around here who gives a shit about the rules?!” Walter shrieks, brandishing the weapon. “They’re calling the cops, man,” groans the Dude. “Put the piece away.”
The Dude arrives at the “big” Lebowski’s Hollywood estate to collect money owed him to clean his carpet. “Are you employed, sir?” bellows the Dick Cheney-esque Lebowski (David Huddleston) from his wheelchair. “Surely you don’t go out looking for a job dressed like that, do you? The rug is your problem. Every bum’s lot in life is his own responsibility, regardless of who he chooses to blame.” As the Dude shakes his head behind oversized, purple-tinged sunglasses, the old man fires a parting shot. “Your revolution is over, Mr. Lebowski! Condolences. The bums lost!”
The Dude takes matters into his own hands. “The old man told me to take any rug in the house,” he tells Brandt (Philip Seymour Hoffman), Lebowski’s personal assistant. Lugging a carpet through the manicured grounds, the Dude eyeballs Bunny (Tara Reid), Lebowski’s trophy wife, in a bikini, painting her toenails olive green. “Blow on them,” Bunny urges him. “I’ll suck your cock for a thousand dollars,” she whispers. “I’m gonna go find a cash machine,” smiles the Dude as he retreats.
