Tag Archives: Sam Elliott

The Big Lebowski

Looking forward to seeing The Big Lebowski on a big screen in a real moo’om pitcher theatre tomorrow night.

I finally 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 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 really 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 that film until the closing credits.

I’m hopin’ the big screen at the Kentucky Theatre will “pull it all together” for me.
The geezer abides….

I Got Yer Frogs

Frogs.

I got yer frogs.

I’m sittin’ in our library. The windows in front of me overlook a decorative pool with a quiet, reassuring fountain and four frogs, one of which is not quiet. He/she/it serenades with a repeated un-sweet burp that lies somewhere between a croak and a rasp. It is scarily reminiscent of the prophetic sounds my 1963 Mercury Comet used to make in 1969 on I-64 just before it lapsed into a defeated silence that prompted some serious pavement pounding on my part.

Tonight, my feet flinch in memory with each chirp of the frog.

Still, I like the sound.

It reminds me of other favorite frog moments…

  • The great frog hunt scene, deliciously narrated by John Huston in the film CANNERY ROW.
  • Walt Kelly’s political candidate frog whose answer to every question was; “Jes fine!” It was a novel and funny concept in the 50’s…mebbe not so novel and not so funny today.
  • Mr. Toad in Kenneth Graham’s THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS.
  • Kermit crooning “Rainbow Connection.”
  • In the ridiculous film FROGS, Sam Elliott (long before he reassured us at the bowling alley bar that “The Dude abides”) rescuing Joan Van Ark from the thousands of frogs angrily erupting from the muck to run amok (one hop at a time) and deal out some vague, ill-explained environmental vengeance.
  • That jaw-dropping Gray Larson cartoon about frog legs.
  • And of course, those Budweiser frogs. Ah, Louie…I miss ye.

I think I’ll open the window.

R-r-r-ibbittt.