It feels pointless to comment on The Big Lebowski, which has gone from a critical and commerical failure that disappointed many who loved Fargo to a cultural phenomenon. Books, academic theses, websites have all been devoted to the philosophical underpinnings of this movie. Sufficit to say, Jeffery "The Dude" Lebowski is the Coen brothers alternative model for American male values. Throughout the film, The Dude comes in contact with archtypes of American masculinity, from cowboys to industrialists to a Chandler-esque private detective. In all cases, the narrow-minded acquisitiveness that makes life in the Coen-verse such a bloody fiasco holds no real enticement for the Dude. He has found peace without the drive for money that consumes the Nihilists, or the vain status whoring that turns the Big Lebowski into a cuckolded, criminal fraud. Instead, the Dude simply abides. He finds joy and contentment where he can, expending as little effort as possible and, as a result, leads a relatively charmed life by Coen brothers standards. Sure, his car is slowly destroyed over the course of the film, and he gets roughed up a bit, but he also gets to sleep with Maude and help perpetuate another generation of laid-back wizards of lethargy.
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