The Big Lebowski

 

 

Screenplay by                             Ethan Coen

                                                 Joel Coen

 

Produced by                               Ethan Coen

 

Directed by                                Joel Coen

 

 

 

Cast List:

 

Jeff Bridges                             The Dude

John Goodman                         Walter Sobchak

Julianne Moore                                   Maude Lebowski

Steve Buscemi                         Donny

Peter Stormare                        Nihilist

David Huddleston                    The Big Lebowski

Tara Reid                                 Bunny Lebowski

Philip Seymour Hoffman          Brandt

Leon Russom                           Malibu Police Officer

Sam Elliott                                The Stranger

John Turturro                          Jesus Quintana

 

 

 

We are floating up a steep scrubby slope. We hear male voices gently singing "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" and a deep, affable, Western-accented voice – Sam Elliot's, perhaps:

 

VOICE-OVER

A way out west there was a fella, fella I want to tell you about, fella by the name of Jeff Lebowski. At least, that was the handle his lovin' parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. This Lebowski, he called himself the Dude. Now, Dude, that's a name no one would self-apply where I come from. But then, there was a lot about the Dude that didn't make a whole lot of sense to me. And a lot about where he lived, like- wise. But then again, maybe that's why I found the place s'durned innarestin'.

 

We top the rise and the smoggy vastness of Los Angeles at twilight stretches out before us.

 

VOICE-OVER

They call Los Angeles the City of Angels. I didn't find it to be that exactly, but I'll allow as there are some nice folks there. 'Course, I can't say I seen London, and I never been to France, and I ain't never seen no queen in her damn undies as the fella says. But I'll tell you what, after seeing Los Angeles and thisahere story I'm about to unfold – wal, I guess I seen somethin' ever' bit as stupefyin' as ya'd see in any a those other places, and in English too, so I can die with a smile on my face without feelin' like the good Lord gypped me.

 

 

INT. RALPH'S

 

It is late, the supermarket all but deserted. We are tracking in on a fortyish man in Bermuda shorts and sunglasses at the dairy case. He is the Dude. His rumpled look and relaxed manner suggest a man in whom casualness runs deep.

 

He is feeling quarts of milk for coldness and examining their expiration dates.

 

VOICE-OVER

Now this story I'm about to unfold took place back in the early nineties – just about the time of our conflict with Sad'm and the Eye-rackies. I only mention it 'cause some- times there's a man – I won't say a hee-ro, 'cause what's a hee-ro? – but sometimes there's a man.

 

The Dude glances furtively about and then opens a quart of milk. He sticks his nose in the spout and sniffs.

 

VOICE-OVER

And I'm talkin' about the Dude here – sometimes there's a man who, wal, he's the man for his time'n place, he fits right in there – and that's the Dude, in Los Angeles.

 

 

CHECKOUT GIRL

 

She waits, arms folded. A small black-and white TV next to her register shows George Bush on the White House lawn with helicopter rotors spinning behind him.

 

GEORGE BUSH

This aggression will not stand... This will not stand!

 

The Dude, peeking over his shades, scribbles something at the little customer's lectern. Milk beads his mustache.

 

VOICE-OVER

... and even if he's a lazy man, and the Dude was certainly that – quite possibly the laziest in Los Angeles County.

 

The Dude has his Ralph's Shopper's Club card to one side and is making out a check to Ralph's for sixty-nine cents.

 

VOICE-OVER

... which would place him high in the runnin' for laziest worldwide – but sometimes there's a man... sometimes there's a man.

 

 

EXT. RALPH'S

 

Long shot of the glowing Ralph's. There are only two or three cars parked in the huge lot.

 

VOICE-OVER

Wal, I lost m'train of thought here. But – aw hell, I done innerduced him enough.

 

The Dude is a small figure walking across the vast lot. Next to him walks a Mexican carry-out boy in a red apron and cap carrying a small brown bag holding the quart of milk. The two men's footsteps echo in the still of the night. After a beat of walking the Dude offhandedly points.

 

DUDE

It's the LeBaron.

 

 

DUDE'S HOUSE

 

The Dude is going up the walkway of a small Venice bungalow court. He holds the paper sack in one hand and a small leatherette satchel in the other. He awkwardly hugs the grocery bag against his chest as he turns a key in his door.

 

 

INSIDE

 

The Dude enters and flicks on a light.

 

His head is grabbed from behind and tucked into an armpit. We track with him as he is rushed through the living room, his arm holding the satchel flailing away from his body. Going into the bedroom the outflung satchel catches a piece of doorframe and wallboard and rips through it, leaving a hole. The Dude is propelled across the bedroom and on into a small bathroom, the satchel once again taking away a piece of doorframe. His head is plunged into the toilet. The paper bag hugged to his chest explodes milk as it hits the toilet rim and the satchel pulverizes tile as it crashes to the floor.

 

The Dude blows bubbles.

 

VOICE

We want that money, Lebowski. Bunny said you were good for it.

 

Hands haul the Dude out of the toilet. The Dude blubbers and gasps for air.

 

VOICE

Where's the money, Lebowski!

 

His head is plunged back into the toilet.

 

VOICE

Where's the money, Lebowski!

 

The hands haul him out again, dripping and gasping.

 

VOICE

WHERE'S THE FUCKING MONEY, SHITHEAD!

 

DUDE

It's uh, it's down there somewhere. Lemme take another look.

 

His head is plunged back in.

 

VOICE

Don't fuck with us. If your wife owes money to Jackie Treehorn, that means you owe money to Jackie Treehorn.

 

The inquisitor hauls the Dude's head out one last time and flops him over so that he sits on the floor, back against the toilet.

 

The Dude gropes back in the toilet with one hand.

 

Looming over him is a strapping blond man.

 

Beyond in the living room a young Chinese man unzips his fly and walks over to a rug.

 

CHINESE MAN

Ever thus to deadbeats, Lebowski.

 

He starts peeing on the rug.

 

The Dude's hand comes out of the toilet bowl with his sunglasses.

 

DUDE

Oh, man. Don't do –

 

BLOND MAN

You see what happens? You see what happens, Lebowski?

 

The Dude puts on his dripping sunglasses.

 

DUDE

Look, nobody calls me Lebowski. You got the wrong guy. I'm the Dude, man.

 

BLOND MAN

Your name is Lebowski. Your wife is Bunny.

 

DUDE

Bunny? Look, moron.

 

He holds up his hands.

 

DUDE

You see a wedding ring? Does this place look like I'm fucking married? All my plants are dead!

 

The blond man stoops to unzip the satchel. He pulls out a bowling ball and examines it in the manner of a superstitious native.

 

BLOND MAN

The fuck is this?

 

The Dude pats at his pockets, takes out a joint and lights it.

 

DUDE

Obviously you're not a golfer.

 

The blond man drops the ball which pulverizes more tile.

 

BLOND MAN

Woo?

 

The Chinese man is zipping his fly.

 

WOO

Yeah?

 

BLOND MAN

Wasn't this guy supposed to be a millionaire?

 

WOO

Uh?

 

They both look around.

 

WOO

Fuck.

 

BLOND MAN

What do you think?

 

WOO

He looks like a fuckin' loser.

 

The Dude pulls his sunglasses down his nose with one finger and peeks over them.

 

DUDE

Hey. At least I'm housebroken.

 

The two men look at each other. They turn to leave.

 

WOO

Fuckin' waste of time.

 

The blond man turns testily at the door.

 

BLOND MAN

Thanks a lot, asshole.

 

ON THE DOOR SLAM WE...

 

CUT TO:

 

 

BOWLING PINS

 

Scattered by a strike.

 

Music and head credits play over various bowling shots – pins flying, bowlers hoisting balls, balls gliding down lanes, sliding feet, graceful releases, ball return spinning up a ball, fingers sliding into fingerholes, etc.

 

The music turns into boomy source music, coming from a distant jukebox, as the credits end over a clattering strike.

 

A lanky blonde man with stringy hair tied back in a ponytail turns from the strike to walk back to the bench.

 

MAN

Hot damn, I'm throwin' rocks tonight. Mark it, Dude.

 

We are tracking in on the circular bench towards a big man nursing a large plastic cup of Bud. He has dark worried eyes and a goatee. Hairy legs emerge from his khaki shorts. He also wears a khaki army surplus shirt with the sleeves cut off over an old bowling shirt. This is Walter. He squints through the smoke from his own cigarette as he addresses the Dude at the scoring table.

 

The Dude, also holding a large plastic cup of Bud, wears some of its foam on his mustache.

 

WALTER

This was a valued rug.

 

He elaborately clears his throat.

 

WALTER

This was, uh –

 

DUDE

Yeah man, it really tied the room together –

 

WALTER

This was a valued, uh.

 

Donny, the strike-scoring bowler, enters and sits next Walter.

 

DONNY

What tied the room together, Dude?

 

WALTER

Were you listening to the story, Donny?

 

DONNY

What –

 

WALTER

Were you listening to the Dude's story?

 

DONNY

I was bowling –

 

WALTER

So you have no frame of reference, Donny. You're like a child who wanders in in the middle of a movie and wants to know –

 

DUDE

What's your point, Walter?

 

WALTER

There's no fucking reason – here's my point, Dude – there's no fucking reason –

 

DONNY

Yeah Walter, what's your point?

 

WALTER

Huh?

 

DUDE

What's the point of – we all know who was at fault, so what the fuck are you talking about?

 

WALTER

Huh? No! What the fuck are you talking – I'm not – we're talking about unchecked aggression here –

 

DONNY

What the fuck is he talking about?

 

DUDE

My rug.

 

WALTER

Forget it, Donny. You're out of your element.

 

DUDE

This Chinaman who peed on my rug, I can't go give him a bill so what the fuck are you talking about?

 

WALTER

What the fuck are you talking about?! This Chinaman is not the issue! I'm talking about drawing a line in the sand, Dude. Across this line you do not, uh – and also, Dude, Chinaman is not the preferred, uh... Asian- American. Please.

 

DUDE

Walter, this is not a guy who built the rail- roads, here, this is a guy who peed on my –

 

WALTER

What the fuck are you –

 

DUDE

Walter, he peed on my rug –

 

DONNY

He peed on the Dude's rug –

 

WALTER

YOU'RE OUT OF YOUR ELEMENT! This Chinaman is not the issue, Dude.

 

DUDE

So who –

 

WALTER

Jeff Lebowski. Come on. This other Jeffrey Lebowski. The millionaire. He's gonna be easier to find anyway than these two, uh. these two... And he has the wealth, uh, the resources obviously, and there is no reason, no FUCKING reason, why his wife should go out and owe money and they pee on your rug. Am I wrong?

 

DUDE

No, but –

 

WALTER

Am I wrong!

 

DUDE

Yeah, but –

 

WALTER

Okay. That, uh.

 

He elaborately clears his throat.

 

That rap really tied the room together, did it not?

 

DUDE

Fuckin' A.

 

DONNY

And this guy peed on it.

 

WALTER

Donny! Please!

 

DUDE

Yeah, I could find this Lebowski guy –

 

DONNY

His name is Lebowski? That's your name, Dude!

 

DUDE

Yeah, this is the guy, this guy should compensate me for the fucking rug. I mean his wife goes out and owes money and they pee on my rug.

 

WALTER

Thaaat's right Dude; they pee on your fucking Rug.

 

 

CLOSE ON A PLAQUE

 

We pull back from the name "JEFFREY LEBOWSKI" engraved in silver to reveal that the plaque, from Variety Clubs International, honors Lebowski as "ACHIEVER OF THE YEAR".

 

Reflected in the plaque we see the Dude entering the room with a YOUNG MAN. We hear the two men talk:

 

YOUNG MAN

And this is the study. You can see the various commendations, honorary degrees, et cetera.

 

DUDE

Yes, uh, very impressive.

 

YOUNG MAN

Please, feel free to inspect them.

 

DUDE

I'm not really, uh.

 

YOUNG MAN

Please! Please!

 

DUDE

Uh-huh.

 

We are panning the walls, looking at various citations and certificates unrelated to the ones being discussed offscreen:

 

YOUNG MAN

That's the key to the city of Pasadena, which Mr. Lebowski was given two years ago in recognition of his various civic, uh.

 

DUDE

Uh-huh.

 

YOUNG MAN

That's a Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce Business Achiever award, which is given – not necessarily given every year! Given only when there's a worthy, somebody especially –

 

DUDE

Hey, is this him with Nancy?

 

YOUNG MAN

That is indeed Mr. Lebowski with the first lady, yes, taken when –

 

DUDE

Lebowski on the right?

 

YOUNG MAN

Of course, Mr. Lebowski on the right, Mrs. Reagan on the left, taken when –

 

DUDE

He's handicapped, huh?

 

YOUNG MAN

Mr. Lebowski is disabled, yes. And this picture was taken when Mrs. Reagan was first lady of the nation, yes, yes? Not of California.

 

DUDE

Far out.

 

YOUNG MAN

And in fact he met privately with the President, though unfortunately there wasn't time for a photo opportunity.

 

DUDE

Nancy's pretty good.

 

YOUNG MAN

Wonderful woman. We were very –

 

DUDE

Are these.

 

YOUNG MAN

These are Mr. Lebowski's children, so to speak –

 

DUDE

Different mothers, huh?

 

YOUNG MAN

No, they –

 

DUDE

I guess he's pretty, uh, racially pretty cool –

 

YOUNG MAN

They're not his, heh-heh, they're not literally his children; they're the Little Lebowski Urban Achievers, inner-city children of promise but without the –

 

DUDE

I see.

 

YOUNG MAN

 – without the means for higher education, so Mr. Lebowski has committed to sending all of them to college.

 

DUDE

Jeez. Think he's got room for one more?

 

YOUNG MAN

One – oh! Heh-heh. You never went to college?

 

DUDE

Well, yeah I did, but I spent most of my time occupying various, um, administration buildings –

 

YOUNG MAN

Heh-heh –

 

DUDE

 – smoking thai-stick, breaking into the ROTC –

 

YOUNG MAN

Yes, heh –

 

DUDE

 – and bowling. I'll tell you the truth, Brandt, I don't remember most of it. – Jeez! Fuck me!

 

Our continuing track and pan have brought us onto a framed Life Magazine cover which is headlined "ARE YOU A LEBOWSKI ACHIEVER?" Oddly, the Dude's sunglassed face is on it; we realize that, under the magazine's logo and headline, the display is mirrored. We hear the door open and the whine of a motor. The Dude, wearing shorts and a bowling shirt, turns to look. So does Brandt, the young man we've been listening to. He wears a suit and has his hands clasped in front of his groin.

 

Entering the room is a fat sixtyish man in a motorized wheelchair – Jeff Lebowski.

 

LEBOWSKI

Okay sir, you're a Lebowski, I'm a Lebowski, that's terrific, I'm very busy so what can I do for you?