by Curtis Edmonds -- blueduck@hsbr.org
The Big Lebowski opens with a wonderful sequence. We see a bleak nighttime Western vista, we hear the distinctive voice of Sam Elliott over the cool Western harmonies of the Sons of the Pioneers singing "Drifting along with the Tumbling Tumbleweeds." And then we see a tumbleweed, rolling gently along the desert plains, slowly moving this way and that. And then, all of a sudden, pow! The perspective shifts, and we see the lights of the Los Angeles basin below.
And if the whole movie were like that -- which it is not -- we would, again, be standing in reverent awe at the talents of the Coen Brothers, Ethan and Joel, creators of Raising Arizona, Millers Crossing, and Fargo, and two of our great nation's national treasures. Unfortunately, the tumbleweed that opens The Big Lebowski is more than just an arresting visual image, it's a metaphor for its lead character, and ultimately, a metaphor for this shaggy, meandering movie..
The tumbleweed in question is known as The Dude. The Dude is described as the "laziest man in Los Angeles County" -- and therefore a leading contender for laziest man in the world. The Dude is a walking, talking piece of Woodstock Nation twenty-five years past its shelf life. He's got no job, no money, and the ability to smoke more pot, bowl more frames, and drink more White Russians than any six men.
The Dude spends the movie trapped inside a complex and twisty plot involving the kidnapped trophy wife of a crippled millionaire. It's the sort of plot that you'll enjoy watching much more than I'll enjoy trying to explain it, so I won't. Let's just say that The Dude is blown by chance all around Los Angeles, bumping into a stream of warped characters the same way that the wind bumps a tumbleweed across the Western prairies.
The plot structure is loosely akin to a Raymond Chandler noir thriller, with The Dude roaming Los Angeles in the Phillip Marlowe role. There's even a cute little vignette where Coen Brothers veteran Jon Polito shows up, playing a hard-boiled private eye, and assumes that The Dude is also a detective. The Dude is utterly bewildered by this comment, as well he should be -- he takes a passive role throughout the movie, acting only when necessary. And in this fashion, he wanders through the movie -- the entire movie, let me add -- wandering around aimlessly, hardly ever picking up speed.
At first glance, watching this movie circle around the screen like a big shaggy dog looking for a place to lie down, I thought that The Big Lebowski was the Coens subtly poking fun at Quentin Tarantino's Los Angeles. Then I decided that they were just poking fun at themselves and their movies. And then -- in the car, on the way home -- I figured it out. The Big Lebowski -- and I mean this as praise, not criticism -- is a two-hour Seinfeld episode. It's a movie about nothing.
The Dude, of course, is the Cosmo Kramer of this ensemble. Jeff Bridges is The Dude, and it's hard to imagine anyone doing a better job. Bridges owns this movie. Where a lesser actor could have made The Dude nothing more than a hippie dufus, Bridges brings a certain depth of character to the role. Since we're with The Dude the whole movie, it's important that he be offbeat without being annoying, eccentric without being inane. Bridges is convincing throughout, whether he's delivering simple truths ("The car is stolen.") or confused blather.
John Goodman is Walter Sobchak, the George Costanza of the group. Walter's a rageaholic loser who is capable of simultaneously caring for his ex-wife's Pomeranian and pulling a firearm on an erring bowling opponent. Goodman is the source of many of the film's best lines and funniest belly laughs, and The Big Lebowski is his best film in years. In contrast, Steve Buscemi is almost the opposite of Jerry Seinfeld. Whereas Seinfeld is a sharp observational comedian, Buscemi's character is a dim-witted bowler who has to be reminded every so often what is going on. It's a slight part, and Buscemi does only a slight acting job. Rounding out the ensemble is Julianne Moore as Maude Lebowski. Moore is the best reason to see this movie. She's only in three scenes -- if you don't count one of the two dream sequences -- but she steals the show as an embarrassingly frank performance artist with a Katherine Hepburn accent.
Like in any Seinfeld episode, the plot is almost an afterthought. What's important about The Big Lebowski isn't the wandering plot, it's the little vignettes and character and jokes along the way. This is a comedy, full of sharp observational humor, a ton of the weird supporting characters that is the Coen Brothers hallmark, and a couple of astonishingly well-crafted shots. As long as you don't go expecting Fargo -- or The Hudsucker Proxy, for that matter -- The Big Lebowski is a fun time at the movies. Pity we don't get to say that too often.
Rating: B
-- Curtis "BlueDuck" Edmonds blueduck@hsbr.org
The Hollywood Stock Brokerage and Resource http://www.hsbr.org/brokers/blueduck/
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