Making Vit Der Funny Schtuff

Rating: 5/10 (2 December 2004)

"The Big Lebowski" is proof a screenplay doesn't need a story to make it today. Just create a couple of oddballs who have gloriously fractured conversations about any sort of bizarre thing, throw in a bunch of random stuff and an eccentric supporting cast, and don't worry if the plot doesn't actually go anywhere. Think "Caddyshack" with more cursing, a perfect film for regurgitating around a water cooler rather than watching on screen.
Jeff Bridges is the Dude, Jeff Lebowski, who because of some confusion with another Jeff Lebowski whose wife owes money to a sleazy porn merchant, finds himself the target of two toughs who "soil" his rug. Trouble accumulates as he seeks restitution and is recruited to help rescue the other Lebowski's kidnapped wife. Complications ensue when the other Lebowski's daughter seeks him out for a sperm donation, a gang of nihilists threaten his johnson, a detective trails after him in a blue Beetle, and stuff keeps happening to his car. The worst part is the constant interference from his bowling buddy, Walter (John Goodman), who sees parallels with Vietnam for everything, blows the ransom delivery, and butts heads with a rival bowler with a sex-offender past.
I don't know, that doesn't read funny. But the movie is funny, especially when Walter and the Dude bicker. Getting this across from writing dialogue excerpts is not possible, not because of the profanity so much as the delivery, which is how it comes together. If comedic acting got the respect it deserves, Goodman would have been nominated for an Oscar; his Walter is a brilliant contrast of sudden rage and anal nitpicking ("The chinaman is not the issue here, dude. I'm talking about drawing a line in the sand, dude. Across this line, you DO NOT... Also, dude, chinaman is not the preferred nomenclature. Asian-American, please.") Even Goodman's presence, wearing pus-colored sunglasses and a perpetual scowl under a buzzcut, is a marvel.
But Goodman's brilliance is in how well he walks the fine line set by the Coen Brothers in a typically challenging film for actors. Bridges is very good, too, but Julianne Moore, Philip Seymour Hoffman, John Turturro and other good actors are so mannered they become annoying.
Also, the story lines just kind of meander with no direction, like the Coens are ridiculing you for attempting to care about how any of it turns out. Did the Dude ever get a new rug? Did he and Walter win the match against Jesus the child molester? What the heck was the point of the cowboy narrator? If you care enough to ask such questions, it's like you are just the butt of the Coens' joke? Who's the %$&@ing nihilists here?
The film's weaknesses are evident even in the moments that shine, like a trio of musical comedy numbers done to music by Bob Dylan and Kenny Rogers. They are witty, vibrant set pieces that come in out of nowhere and charge quickly into various cartoony bits, but then meander and drizzle away, lamely explained as acid flashbacks the Dude keeps having when he is knocked out. They don't add anything to the story, but in that sense, at least they are consistent with the rest of what's presented.
The Coen Brothers remind me of the '70s jazz popsters Steely Dan, two arch standoffish types who are expert entertainers and creative geniuses but somewhat handicapped by their acerbic pose. They don't like being mistaken for someone who cares. The Coens have made some terrific films, like "Raising Arizona" and "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" and some overrated ones like "Fargo" and this. It's a film designed to make people laugh, and that's nice of them, but when one of the big jokes in the film involves casually killing off one of the good guys, you have to wonder whether the joke is really on you.