Big Lebowski, The (1998)

reviewed by
Derek Miner


THE BIG LEBOWSKI (1998)
A Film Review by Derek Miner
Copyright 1998 Derek Miner

I suppose I'm asking for trouble when I have to take issue with a Coen Brothers film. Sure, there have always been those who don't like their work, but it hardly seems to matter what criticisms are launched when you "get it." Take, for instance, "The Hudsucker Proxy" which I found to be a highly enjoyable, inventively surreal, lovingly crafted parable. I was (and still am) awestruck at the critical trashing that film took. So here I am, a traitor to the ranks, I suppose, because I just didn't "get" "The Big Lebowski"

The film starts curiously enough, promising to be some sort of urban legend, paralleling the old west with early-90s Los Angeles. We meet "the Dude" (Jeff Bridges) -- Jeff Lebowski number one, slacker extraordinaire, whose prized living room rug is soiled by some punks who are actually after a _different_ Jeff Lebowski. That Lebowski (David Huddleston) appears to be a rich man who ends up using the Dude to help recover his kidnapped trophy-wife. The Dude is much more interested in bowling with his pals (John Goodman and Steve Buscemi), but trouble (in the form of Nihillists and assorted other wackos) just won't leave him alone.

"The Big Lebowski" begins with such promise. The bowling alley credit sequence is one of the most absurdly funny things I've ever seen. Our characters (for the most part) seem so honestly part of their reality, you feel like _something_ amazing will happen. But it never does. After an hour and a half, I was desperately waiting for the tangents of this film to converge in some sensible, if absurd or ironic, way. I forgave the lapses between humorous parts becuase I sensed it was all going somewhere, and at the end of the ride I would understand. By the time the end credits rolled, however, I felt cheated. I say "cheated" because it always seemed possible (and likely) that the non-existent payoff was around the bend from the next plot twist. By the time the film edged over the two hour mark, it seemed like the plot just twisted away into nothingness and they forgot to let us in on that fact.

At times in "The Big Lebowski," I marvelled at just how much guts the Coens had to pull off what I saw up on the screen. I laughed heartily several times. But even gutsy, original work needs some kind of anchor, something to bring home the humanity of the story. That's why a cheap, sloppy film like "Clerks" works so well whereas a slickly produced festival entry can fail because the characters and writing don't resonate. Even with quirkiness to spare, "The Big Lebowski" has all the character resonance of a whoopie cushion. The bowling alley talks (if you could call them that) shared between the Dude and bowling pals seem forced and unfunny. These friends seem to hate each other, and their conversations are so rude, you hope that someone (preferably our main character, The Dude) will realize this and just move on. But The Dude doesn't seem any the better at the end of his journey, and neither does anyone else, for that matter.

I've read several reviews of this film, and every one of them has been ready to praise "The Big Lebowski" despite it's flaws. So until someone lets me in on what I didn't "get," I'll just go back to enjoying "Fargo" and "The Hudsucker Proxy" at home, where it's safe.


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