Film Friday: The Big Lebowski (1998)

Few people are indifferent when it comes to the Coen brothers. Most people either love them or hate them. Personally, I find their films to be either brilliant or completely flat, though even the brilliant ones are rarely satisfying. The Big Lebowski sits in the brilliant category. Interestingly, what makes this film work is that it provides compelling moments and it strings them together in a unique way.

** spoiler alert **

Plot

The Big Lebowski is a sort-of-comedy centered around Jeff Lebowski aka “the Dude” (Jeff Bridges). He’s a slacker who lives in Los Angeles. Bowling is the only thing that matters in his life. The Dude becomes a pawn in a kidnapping plot when he is mistaken for another Lebowski and some thugs appear at his house and threaten him. In the process, they urinate on his rug. This upsets him because “the rug really tied the room together,” and he decides to see the Lebowski they were really after to get compensation for his rug. In the process, he and his bowling buddies run into a veritable freak show of characters.

In its initial run, the film faired poorly with critics and audiences alike. It brought in only $17 million. Over time, however, this film has attained cult status. Indeed, there are festivals to the film and there’s even an online religion (Dudeism) with 130,000 members. The film is now also widely regarded as genius by the same critics who panned it originally.

What Makes This Film Work

So what made this film work? Well, ultimately, what really works here is that the Coen brothers created a film which draws you in. It does that with strange characters who make you curious and by making each scene compelling. To do that, the Coens do something interesting. They abandon the traditional mechanics of plot, i.e. each scene must efficiently convey the next plot point, with each step in the plot being shown, each scene logically following from the last, and nothing irrelevant being included. Instead, the Coens make each scene its own fantastic little moment which only vaguely makes sense in the overall plot, and they tie all these scenes together with themes.

Thus, for example, the Dude constantly mentions his rug, which we are repeatedly told “tied the room together.” This becomes the seeming motivation behind each scene even though none of the scenes have anything do with the rug and none of the characters care about it. Similarly, each character talks about “the money” to make it seem like the story is focused on the kidnapping plot, even though most of the characters don’t really care about that either. And everything always comes back to bowling even though none of the characters involved in the plot have anything to do with bowling. By constantly mentioning these things, the Coens manage to make each of the scenes feel completely related and like they are all working toward a single plot point, even though only a handful of the scenes really matter to the plot. This results in a fascinating bit of misdirection as it keeps you thinking the plot is moving forward when it really isn’t.

So why do this? Well, it allows the Coens to build each scene independently and to maximize the punch because they don’t need to worry about tying each scene into the plot story-wise. It also allows them to skip the transition scenes/“workman” parts of the plot that move the story along, but which hold little real interest. Thus, for example, we don’t need to watch the character do research or acquire a weapon or warn his girlfriend about what he’s doing. There are no montages as the characters get ready for a confrontation and there’s no scene where the characters are shown sneaking around. Instead, scene after scene is basically its own self-contained vignette of things that happen to the Dude during this period. Each is stylish, incredible, and unexpected. Ultimately, that gives each scene more punch and it makes each scene more interesting because, unlike other films, there are no points where you can tune out because you know what’s about to happen during the upcoming scene.

That’s half the puzzle. That allowed the Coen brothers to make a more interesting film because each scene feels more like a highlight with it’s own build up and climax, and there are no “down” parts of the film. But that alone would not be enough to make a good film without them also filling the scenes with memorable images. That’s where the film really shines. Consider these characters and their moments:

● Jesus (John Turturro): Jesus has NOTHING to do with the plot. He’s a convicted child molester who is now the world’s most bizarre bowler. You can’t help but watch this guy like a train wreck. And the use of the Gypsy King version of “Hotel California” as he licks his bowling ball is the kind of image you never forget (LINK).

● Walter (John Goodman): Walter is the Dude’s best friend and teammate. He turns everything into some point about Vietnam. He’s converted to Judaism, and clearly misunderstands it. Bowling is his real religion. He’s also intensely hotheaded. He causes trouble constantly. He also gives us the great image of himself bullying a twelve year old, destroying a car (it’s the wrong car), and a scene involving some ashes you have to see to believe.

● The Nihilists: The people who supposedly kidnapped Bunny are a gang of German nihilists. It turns out they are really a new wave band – Autobahn. The lead singer Uli Kunkel (Peter Stormare) appeared in a porno film with Bunny as Karl Hungus. And they don’t even have Bunny. They just want money, but aren’t competent.

● Jeffrey Lebowski (David Huddleston): Lebowski is a wheelchair-bound millionaire... sort of. Bunny is his trophy wife. He’s insulting, condescending and talks about his success. He comes across as part general, part madman, part villain and God knows what else. He and his butt-kissing henchman Brandt (Philip Seymour Hoffman) pull the Dude into the kidnapping plot.

● Maude (Julianne Moore): Oy. She’s a feminist, avant-garde artist who describes her work as “strongly vaginal.” She’s Lebowski’s daughter and she’s the one who really owns the money. She introduced Bunny to Uli, and she decides she wants to have a child with The Dude... but wants nothing else to do with him. This results in memorable scenes like the obnoxiously laughing David Thewlis and a naked painting session that involves a harness and two musclemen dressed in leather.

● Jackie Treehorn (Ben Gazzara): Treehorn comes out of nowhere in the film. He’s a pornographer and loan shark and Bunny owes him a lot of money. His scene leads to the film’s strange but fascinating dream sequence (LINK).

This is a wild collection of characters. They are fun to watch, shocking and memorable. Each is also set free to roam the scenes in which they appear. They aren’t bound by the plot or the need to give plot points. If something has to be said, it will be said, but not before you get to see them do their thing, and not before the scene leaves you with a couple memorable moments and images. These scenes also expertly incorporate a strong, but eclectic soundtrack.

This is why this film stands out. It stands out because it delivers punch after punch and it does so without all the usual necessary-but-uninteresting scenes that other films employ. It’s an interesting way to make a film actually. It’s kind of a cross between the avant-garde films of the 1960s, which stink, and modern films. And in this case, it works really well.

All of that said, there are two things I don’t like about this film. The narrator (Sam Elliot) lends the film an unreal feeling which detracts from a film which is already right on the edge of believability. The film would be stronger without him. Secondly, while the film is fun and the scenes are great, the film ultimately feels unsatisfying to me because it doesn’t wrap up. It just kind of ends. This is a direct result of the film not having the normal narrative structure and I think the Coens failed to compensate for that by not giving the film a definite climax. Still, it’s absolutely worth seeing.

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Guest Review: The Man Who Wasn’t There (2001)

A Film Review by Tennessee Jed

Few would deny the Coen brothers are among the most acclaimed film makers of their generation. Yet much of their work has not resonated quite as loudly at the box office as with the critics. Some claim the brothers dwell too often on negative or depressing themes. That could certainly be argued for one of their more obscure films, The Man Who Wasn’t There. Perhaps so, but it is probably my favorite Coen Brothers film for a variety of reasons which I’ll discuss below.

Format - The idea for this film germinated from a poster used in the film The Hudsucker Proxy which depicts various styles of haircuts from the 1940ʼs. As the brothers developed their idea, they settled on a film noir, black comedy set in the late 40ʼs. The Coens freely credit as their inspiration the gritty style of writer James M. Cain (Double Indemnity and The Postman Always Rings Twice.) As such, they chose to use black and white, and the conventional, straightforward filming techniques of the time. Along with thorough attention to realistic props, there is no question the movie accurately reflects the look of the period. Interestingly, cinematographer Roger Deakins points out he actually shot the movie on modern color stock, then modified it to black and white, claiming that gave the film a more smooth and lush texture (non-grainy) than could otherwise have been possible.

Themes - As with other works by the Coen brothers, this film implicitly explores the philosophies of both Soren Kierkegaard (Existentialism) and Albert Camus (Absurdism.) The latter is actually an outgrowth of the former and is grounded in the notion that it is impossible for man to make sense or order out of his life in a world that is fundamentally chaotic in nature. In fact, at the time of its release, several critics pointed out the numerous thematic similarities between this film and some of the works of Camus.

*** slight spoiler alert ***

Plot - This is a superb classic film noir story about a very ordinary man named Ed Crane (Billy Bob Thornton) a barber in Santa Rosa, California in the late 40ʼs. The character serves as the film’s narrator, and is instinctively recognizable as the quiet unassuming man everyone has known at one time or another who blends into the background to the point he is virtually invisible (as intimated by the title.) Crane is second chair in a barber shop owned by his brother-in-law, Frank (Michael Badulucco of L.A. Law.) Ed is settled into what could best be described as a stale marriage to Frank’s sister Doris (Frances McDormand.)

Doris works as an accountant at Nirdlingerʼs, a local family owned department store and drinks too much. Her boss, “Big Dave” Brewster (James Gandolfini) owes his own career to his marriage to Ann, the daughter of the store’s owner. Ed feels certain Doris is having an affair with “Big Dave” (“all the signs were there”) but true to his character, he appears outwardly to not particularly care all that much.

One day, Ed is cutting the hair of a stranger in town named Creighton Tolliver (Jon Polito.) Tolliver is looking for a silent financial partner in a new, potentially commercially viable process known as dry cleaning. Intrigued, but without the means to invest the required $10,000, Ed hits upon a scheme to anonymously blackmail “Big Dave” regarding his affair with Doris. Big Dave even confides in Ed that he is being blackmailed for $10,000 for an affair he is having with a married woman (not mentioning it is Doris, of course), asking him what he should do. Ed naturally advises Big Dave to pay, then secretly collects the money from the drop, and signs the paperwork for his partnership with Tolliver who is in the process of heading out of town.

However, as so often happens in well-crafted film noir, the web of deceit woven by Ed Crane becomes tangled and quickly spins out of control as a complex set of events conspire to create unanticipated consequences not revealed in this review.

Acting - Headlined by a masterful performance from Thornton (in which he puts on a clinic for the term “underacting,”) the strength of acting is uniformly top rate throughout the cast. In addition to Thornton’s role and an equally strong performance by Gandolfini, some of the “usual suspects” found in Coen brothersʼ films make their presence known as well. Frances McDormand (Joel Coenʼs wife) is her usual brilliant self playing Doris to perfection. I have had the pleasure of meeting Jon Polito numerous times before his career started (while he was at Villanova University sharing an apartment in Bryn Mawr with a high school buddy of mine.) Polito, who regularly collaborates with the Coen brothers, is one of the best character actors in the business. When people look him up and see his picture, everybody goes “Oh Yeah . . . him . . . sure!”

There are also several smaller roles with effective performances by a young Scarlett Johansson as Birdy Abundas, a teenaged neighbor and potentially talented piano student, as well as Tony Shaloub (Monk) as hot shot attorney Freddy Riedenschneider. I would be remiss, though, without mentioning a funny and fine performance by Richard Jenkins as Birdyʼs father Walter Abundas.

Direction - Joel Coen shared best director award at the 2001 Cannes Film Festival with David Lynch for Mulholland Drive. Both equally deserved the award. When you look at each scene carefully, it is hard to argue with most of the choices made by the director, although the occasional allusions to extra terrestrials and flying saucers were mostly lost on me. Still, the look, feel, and pacing of the film are all superb and credit must be given where it is due.

Summary - Much of the award nominations went to the cinematography, and I agree the techniques used to simulate a 40ʼs era film noir were superb. But really, this film works well on a lot of different levels. It is well plotted and scripted with plenty of black humor throughout, all expertly handled by the actors. The music soundtrack consisting mainly of Beethoven piano sonatas is, perhaps, unexpectedly effective given the genre. There is almost nothing I would change, but admit that Edʼs seeming indifference at the end to his ultimate fate might seem a tad unrealistic even from an absurdist point of view. Neverthless, it is a film I would highly recommend and remains my personal Coen Brothers favorite.

What are your thoughts about this film, and do you have a favorite Coen film?

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