April 8, 2013 § 1 Comment



Okay, so MyHusbandHe thought it’d be hysterical if I actually posted something on this woman centric blog about the testosterone ridden, overweight actors legs splayed, psycho-bowling, viscerally disgusting, hysterical movie from the auspicious year anno domini 1998, THE BIG LEBOWSKI.  God help us.  Here goes.

I love it.  And it passes the “okay to promote on a women’s issues blog” with one simple line.  Jeff Bridges tells the Malibu cop, who just berated him for being, well, himself, “the Dude” (yes, that’s his name), that:

 “They treat objects like women here, man.”

He’s hung over.  He’s just been knocked out of his chair.  He really means what we want him to mean (“treat women like objects.”)  Just lots of times he can’t get things out right at first.  Even a loser like the Dude gets that women are an important 51%.  Bravo, you Coen brother writer guys who wrote him (Ethan Coen and Joel Coen.) “They” in the quote, btw, is the cop’s constituency, high rent Malibu bad guys he protects.

Um, before I go on, fair warning.  DON’T watch the movie if you DON’T like THE “F” WORD.

But if you can handle it, that staple and creatively overused expletive in some men’s vocabularies- you know, like saying “like” if you’re under eighteen, like ad nauseum, like even when, like your parents beg you not to- what the f—k, go ahead.  Pull up your big girl panties and enjoy the f–king film.   It’s THE F—KING BEST of guys poking fun at guyness; a great thing to study from a safe, female perspective; a convulsively humorous thing to watch.  It’s all so WRONG, and, to rip off from the Eagles, whom the Dude, incidentally, hates, “it feels so right.”  That’s the Eagles, isn’t it?

He prefers Credence.  And cars with bungie cords holding up the front bumpers.  And puts out burning roaches with bad beer.  And really only wants his oriental rug back.  When the bad guys take it.

This movie does not demean women, by thuh way.  REALLY.  No kidding.  It’s just a guy flick that would go well mixed with John Wayne re-runs and ANCHORMAN.  It lumbers along like a bunch of cattle on the range, steady, deliberately, aimlessly, lots of “what the f—k” moments, male bonding over a buddie’s ashes, and ends as it should, reaffirming manhood’s grassroots status quo.  A belly at the bar, a cold sasparilla, a great cowboy hat and, in Dude’s case, a rug on his extremely disgusting bachelor pad floor.  Presto, life’s as good as it gets.

God I love that.

And the best part?  Julianne Moore.

Whose word of choice is “vagina”!  She pays for a full physical on the Dude before she studs him out- to herself.  She’s the only character in the movie with any sense.  She plays Maude (as if ANYONE would really name her Maude), an heiress artist with attitude, blue blood so thin she can barely comprehend Dude’s slang, and a lusty relationship with exhibitionism.  She’s that girl nobody’s mom wants brought home and the one all of us would enjoy being at least once.

Plus, she’s just cool.  I’m biased.

But not about the f—king movie.  It’s great.

Watch it.  And get back to me if you honestly find, honestly now, ladies, remember your senses of humor, if you honestly find anything so offensive in THE BIG LEBOWSKI’s portrayals of women (the few in the flick) that aren’t WAAAAAAY outweighed by the fun the Coens poke at dudes.




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  • One of the funniest movies ever. Don’t you just love the scene when he thinks she’s doing yoga in the bed? And he chokes on his White Russian when she announces her postures are aiding conception. So many F-bombs do bother me … but that’s the milieu, and the character. Poor Donnie. I adore Julianne Moore.

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