THE TAO OF LEBOWSKI

Or

DECONSTRUCTING THE DUDE

A free-form exploration into the underlying meaning of

The Big Lebowski

Most of you out there, I assume, are familiar with the Coen Brothers comedy classic, The Big Lebowski. A good number of you probably even consider it one of your all-time favorite movies, as I do. Some of you, perhaps -- in the parlance of our times -- may even be "addicted" to it, watching it over and over and reciting the dialogue as it plays... But how many of you have ever peeled back the surface of the film, peered deep into the celluloid, and tried to truly understand just what the Coen Brothers, through their unique, zen-slacker, post-modern anti-hero Jeffrey Lebowski, were really trying to tell us?

Sure, this whole thesis might sound like a reach to you, or possibly even a joke -- for how could such a seemingly simple, albeit highly entertaining, "stoner" comedy have any sort of underlying meaning or secret message in the sub-text? Well, it's a complicated case: There's a lot of ins, a lot of outs, and a lot what-have-yous, but when all is said and done there is no doubt that this film is a well-disguised, subversive artistic achievement of the highest order. It is a delicately layered masterpiece, functioning on several different levels simultaneously.

What we will address here in this groundbreaking, and sure to be highly controversial, essay is the "hidden" theme of the movie; for The Big Lebowski is much more than a pleasantly original comedy. This cinematic "wolf in sheep’s clothing" is nothing less than a scathing cultural commentary that very snidely, and very sneakily, reflects and satirizes the "personality" of the United States as we careen headlong into the new millennium.

In the opening of the flick, aging hippie Jeff Lebowski just wants to be left alone. He is a liberal, pacifist, former revolutionary who has lazily accepted his somewhat lowly lot in life and is happy to just "ride around," "bowl," smoke his joints, and drink his "Caucasians." (This particular drink of choice is no accident. It represents Lebowski attempting to consume, at least in effigy, the white – Caucasian – upper-class males who rule our country, make our laws, squander and embezzle our tax money, and tap our phones -- lying, cheating and stealing on a grand scale on a daily basis with no remorse whatsoever, as if it is their birthright.)

Lebowski represents the left wing, peace-loving liberals of our nation. He realizes his generation was unable to stem the tide of corporate greed, war-mongering and global self-destruction that has been ruthlessly stoked and ridden by these same privileged white males, and as a result he has been relegated to trying to preserve the peace and integrity in the little part of the country that he can, his own hovel apartment. But what happens? Some brainless thugs come and urinate on his carpet. (Later on, his car is defocated in as well.) This is not only well-played for laughs, but is greatly metaphoric of what our corporation-dominated society – hand in hand with their bought and paid for politicians -- are doing to us as a whole.

The carpet urination is analogous to the massive Exxon tanker spill, the melting of the polar ice cap, the systematic eradication of the Florida Everglades by overdevelopment, the non-existence of "weapons of mass destruction," pork-barrel project "bridges to nowhere," the never-ending lobbyist and politico "misappropriation of funds" and "peddling of influence" scandals that plague Washington year after year after year with no cure in sight, etc. The carpet represents our "environment," meaning where we live, be it the state of the planet, the state of the union, the state of your favorite fishing hole, even your own backyard – or living room.

"Your revolution is over Mr. Lebowski….The bums lost." States the wealthy, old world Big Lebowski, an arrogant, fat, rich, white man confined to a wheelchair for his participation in one of our questionable foreign wars. But his pomposity is unfounded, for we soon learn that he is a phony and a criminal, with no earned wealth of his own, attempting to steal a million dollars from -- of all people -- a collection of high-achieving orphans.

Also revealed during the course of the story is the fact that the Big Lebowski is married to a very young nymphet, appropriately played by Tara Reid, who is also hell-bent on living high on the hog without regard to even the loosest social morays. As such, "Bunny" Lebowski, like several characters in the film, will seemingly do anything for money, no matter how unlawful, unethical, immoral, and just downright sleazy the act may be. And of course, she has to price-gouge. In her case this is displayed by her offering the Dude a very high-priced blowjob. "I’ll suck your cock for a thousand dollars." She so eloquently proposes, in yet another example of the "whoring" of American society. In an age where vapid, well-publicized party girls (Paris Hilton, Nicole Ritchie, Jessica Simpson, and yes, Tara herself to name a few) with no obvious marketable talent can become icons and earn millions of dollars for simply exposing as much of themselves in public as is allowed by law -- and sometimes more than that -- the character of "Bunny" is a fitting one indeed to be married to the fat republican preaching "traditional values" and telling the Dude to "get a job." She also provides a nice counterbalance to the film’s other female character, experimental artist, Maude, who represents the flip-side of the "modern woman" coin as a "feminist" who wants a baby, but definitely does not want a father for her child.

The bumbling foreign "henchmen," employed by the Big Lebowski to assist with the ludicrous "kidnapping" scheme, further demonstrates The Big Lebowski’s hidden agenda. Interestingly, the henchmen are nihilists. They have no political goals, and seek no social reform. All they are after is money. "Give us da money Lebowski…" they repeat over and over like a mantra. Sounds a lot like the corporate culture in America today. Be it Enron, the ultimate example of Machiavellian money making no matter what the cost; Exxon-Mobil with its 36 billion dollar single-year profits while all of us "little people" suffer and strain to move our vehicles down the street on 3 dollar a gallon gas; Worldcom, Tyson, Halliburton; Big Tobacco refusing to admit their product is addictive; pharmaceutical companies aggressively marketing drugs they know can be harmful and even kill people... etc., etc..

So where are we going with all this? Well, to draw our conclusions lets look at what happens in the film. The plot really starts moving when Bridges' "little" Lebowski finally decides to fight back. He was willing to let all the rampant injustice and corruption that surrounded him slide as long as it didn’t affect his lifestyle, but once his carpet that "really tied the room together" is defiled, his revolutionary instincts are re-awakened, if drowsily. Mayhem and hilarity, of course, ensue. But -- and here is the crux -- although during the course of their antics one of his friends is killed, the other devolves into a Nam flashbacking delusional psychopath, (though still painfully P.C., "Chinaman is not the preferred nomenclature, Dude" He admonishes, telling us that while killing foreigners is often encouraged by the government, referring to their nationality using ever-changing "improper" terminology is certainly verbotten) registered pedophiles serve as rank and file members of bowling leagues; cars are casually crashed into fountains; toes are arbitrarily cut off; drinks are drugged; pornographers and white collar thieves have a stranglehold on all the good land; illiterate, next generation high school kids are flunking "social studies" even if their father was a famous writer (now symbolically trapped in a coffin-like life-support machine) and Lebowski himself is about to sire a child in absentia -- what really matters is that despite all of the Dude’s attempts to "take action" and "buck the system," his efforts are eventually rendered meaningless. In the end, nothing really changes. At the close of the film the Dude -- read "everyman" -- and his pal Walter are still bowling, headed for the semi-finals. The Dude fails to collect one red cent of any of the dough promised him throughout his adventure, and he never gets his rug back.

Life goes on, sans one beloved and integral rug, but how important was that rug, really? We know it "really tied the room together" but was it also helping to bind the very fabric of the Dude's world? Is its loss the first crack the faultily engineered levy temporarily keeping the Dude from drowning? And then, one can't help but ask the obvious question: What will the bastards come for next time?

The Dude, sadly, was ineffectual in restoring total harmony to his environment. But at least he tried. Sure, he failed at every turn, and spectacularly, but still, the Dude attempted to right the wrongs he was faced with, and showed actual caring and concern for his fellow man along the way. And you get the feeling that if push came to shove, the Dude would stand strong and fight once again on the side of righteousness -- lit joint in one hand, caucasian in the other -- as long as it didn't interfere with his bowling schedule...

"The Dude abides," Bridges says to the audience at the very end of the film, as he carries two "oat sodas" back to his lane. And maybe that’s all any of us feel like we can do, just drink a beer and "abide" until the barbarians are not just breathing heavily at the gate, but have busted through it, charged up the lawn, broken into the house, and are peeing on the carpet.