The Big Lebowski Movie Analysis – Earthling Cinema

Greetings, and welcome to Earthling
Cinema. I am your host, Garyx

Wormuloid. This week’s artifact is
The Big Lebowski, written and

directed by the prophets Joel and
Ethan Coen, hallowed be their

names. The film served as the
foundational scripture for a

religion called Dudeism, which was
essentially just Taoism sprinkled

with weed and Kahlua. It was the
philosophy of going with the flow,

or “chilling out maxing relaxing
all cool and all shooting some bball

outside of the school.”
Dudeism, or the Church of LatterDay

Dudes, became Earth’s primary
religion in 1998.

The Book of Lebowski recounts the
trials and tribulations of slovenly

Christ figure Jeffrey Lebowski

or as his disciples call him, “The Dude"

Hair - check. Sandles - check. Robe - check. Sunglasses - check.

The Dude is a tumbling tumbleweed,
content to spend his days bowling,

which is about 5% gameplay and 95%
sitting around drinking. But when

his sacred floor covering is
befouled, he sojourns to a higher

power to seek reparations [”They
peed on your rug, Dude]. Then he

gets mixed up in a whole kidnapping
situation before finally getting

back to what’s really important:
sports.

At the end of the film, there is no
epiphany, no social gain, no world

saved, Class 7 or otherwise. The
Dude hasn’t fallen in love or

retired to a beachfront property
somewhere. He hasn’t even gotten a

new rug. So why did humans base
their entire existence on this film?

If we look at the source material
the film is parodying, we can begin

to unravel this strange and
harrowing mystery. The Big Lebowski

is, at its heart, a noir film.

It
pays homage to Raymond Chandler’s

crime novel “The Big Sleep,” even
going so far as to plagiarize two

words from the title. However,
instead of the hard-nosed, rough

around the edges private eye
Phillip Marlowe, we get exactly the

opposite -- a laid back stoner with
a penchant for home decor. Humans

could relate to such a character,
as they had been unintentionally

emulating him since the ‘60s, man.
One common element of noir is

characters who are haunted by their
past, especially if their past

involves a no smoking sign [clips
of noir detectives smoking a lot].

Many characters in this film are
stuck in the past: the Dude is

stuck in the flower power movement,
Walter is stuck in the Vietnam War

and his marriage, Jackie Treehorn
is stuck in the glory days of Hugh

Hefner, Maude is stuck in the
Fluxus art movement, and Donny is

stuck in a coffee can. Likewise,
most noir stories were set against

the grim background of World War
II, but this film is set against

the Gulf War, a low-stakes military
endeavor that ultimately

accomplished nothing. The type of
war that still lives in its

parents’ basement.
The film taught Earthlings to

embrace their true nature and
mellow the f out by deconstructing

everything they previously held
sacred. For example, the generic

notion of success. The Dude is
considered a failure compared to

someone like Lebowski, but it turns
out Lebowski’s “life of

achievement" is bogus, just like
the pagan religions of old.

And speaking of religion, that gets
taken down a peg as well. Maybe

even two pegs. A character named
"Jesus" is portrayed as a

pedophile, which was a big no-no on
Earth.

Walter claims to be a devout Jew,
but really he’s just masquerading

as a Jew to be closer to his wife.
For more information on Judaism,

please refer to the TV show
Seinfeld. Then there’s the concept

of death, which to those
unfamiliar, is the inexplicable

ceasing of life. When no one is
looking, Donny nonchalantly dies of

a heart attack. Meanwhile, Walter’s
eulogy turns into a rant about

Vietnam, the largest moon of
Jupiter.

In the end, the whole story is a
farce, just like life on Earth, and

later, Mars. The Dude is still the
Dude, preparing for his bowling

tournament as if nothing has
changed. Because nothing has, give

or take a best friend.
If you scratch the surface looking

for meaning, you will find none. The worst
thing we can do is relentlessly

overanalyze everything until we’re
blue in the tentacles. As the

Dude’s teachings dictate, in a
world of unchecked aggression, the

best thing you can do is to
simply... imbibe. I mean abide.

For Earthling Cinema, I’m Garyx
Wormuloid. To convert to Dudeism,

click the subscribe button. Or not,
whatever. Who cares?