I’d been looking forward to seeing The Big Lebowski on a big screen in a real moo’om pitcher theatre.
I finally (I may have been the last person on Earth) got around to watching The Big Lebowski on an endless and gloomy flight to Alaska. I watched it on my tiny laptop with a lousy headset. I possess an overblown belief in the grand, super-sized movie screen housed in my imagination. I believe I can watch my friend Chuck Pogue’s Dragonheart on a TV screen at home and hear Sean Connery’s dragon whisper behind me, from a mouth of teeth and fire that could fricassee my head and swallow it like a hot-buttered kernel of popcorn and never miss a word of “The Code” until a burp interrupted his recitation.
I actually believe that…and it fills me with happy wonder.
But this Lebowski viewing plumb defeated me and was totally unfair to any flick. I’m sure it affected my judgement.
I like some of the Coen Brothers’ work a lot. Fargo, O Brother Where Art Thou, and Blood Simple are favorite films for me.
I know Lebowski has a fervid following. But I found it to be unpleasantly disjointed and certainly overly reverential to bowling. I have bowled in the past (in a league no less!) and enjoyed the hell out of it, but I never experienced the metaphysical awe of flying pins represented in Lebowski. I mean, come on! It’s not baseball!
What I admired in the film was;
– John Goodman’s boisterous performance.
– John Turturro’s sharp cameo.
– Sam Elliott’s finest performance since his star turn in Frogs. (Talk about damning with faint…)
– The opening and closing monologues (again Elliott).
It was an OK film, but it was no Blood Simple. I don’t think I blinked after the first twenty minutes of Blood Simple until the closing credits.
I’m hopin’ the big screen at the Kentucky Theatre will “pull it all together” for me.
The geezer abides….
Follow up note;
It certainly did!