IMDb #144: The Big Lebowski (1998)

Source: Wikipedia

Oh, man. What can I say. How do I encapsulate the apex of sociopathic comedy in a couple hundred words. There's no way, man.

Here goes.

In Los Angeles, there live two guys, both with the unfortunate name Jeffrey Lebowski. One, an accomplished millionaire philanthropist, lives in a mansion with his many trophies and nymphomaniac trophy wife. The other, a deadbeat stoner, likes weed and bowling and weed. And not having his home invaded by Asian thugs who piss (sorry, "micturate") on his rug. Which happens.

The Dude's quest for justice, to avenge his smelly rug, stirs up the hive. To stretch the metaphor, the hive is LA, the hornets are the maniacs who live there, and the whole swarm is stinging itself to hilariously agonizing death.

Right, the cast. There's the Dude. Obviously. He recruits the "help" of his violently psychotic bowling buddy, a very vocal Vietnam veteran. There's Jesus, an alarmingly intense competitive bowler and registered pederast -- but he's just funny, not that important. The millionaire's daughter, a sexually liberated mad artist who overanalyzes smut films and creates incomprehensible postmodern artwork via dive-bombing paint splatters from a nude flying trapeze. A stonefaced ninth-grade dunce. A pack of German-accented nihilist thugs. A charismatic filthy-rich pornography mogul who might be the key to everything -- or might not.

And Sam Elliot's intimidating mustache, playing a fourth-wall-shattering cowboy narrator who probably wandered into the wrong movie.

The casually horrible heroes fuck up everything they touch. More specifically, the Dude's tagalong nutcase jumps to conclusions and overreacts, dragging the Dude along by the short leash. The ride gets weird fast. Severed toes, a briefcase of literal unwashed briefs, sudden nudity, and bowling-themed turn-of-the-millennium CGI dream sequences featuring devils with red bodysuits and giant scissors.

Every other line is quotable, and every other other line contains the famous F-bomb. It's...fun.

It's impossible to tell where it's going, so just buckle down for the ride.

You got me, Coen brothers. This thing's unclassifiable. And unforgettable. What other cult film could unintentionally inspire a legit religion.

You can join and donate to the church of Dudism here: http://dudeism.com/

117 minutes.