I finally got around to watching The Big Lebowski this past week.
Brilliant.
I was struck by the perfection of the delivery of every line by every actor. John Goodman in particular was born to be Walter Sobchak.
The scene at the mortuary near the end is my favorite in the film...
THE DUDE AND WALTER
---
They sit side by side, forearms on knees, in a nondescript
waiting area. Walter bounces the fingertips of one hand off
those of the other. They sit. They wait.
A tall thin man in a conservative black suit enters. He
eyes the Dude's bowling attire and sunglasses and Walter's
army surplus, but doesn't make an issue of it.
MAN
Hello, gentlemen. You are the
bereaved?
DUDE
Yeah man.
MAN
Francis Donnelly. Pleased to meet
you.
DUDE
Jeffrey Lebowski.
WALTER
Walter Sobchak.
DUDE
The Dude, actually. Is what, uh.
DONNELLY
Excuse me?
DUDE
Nothing.
DONNELLY
Yes. I understand you're taking
away the remains.
WALTER
Yeah.
DONNELLY
We have the urn.
He nods through a door. Another man in a black suit enters
to carefully deposit a large silver urn on the desktop.
DONNELLY
And I assume this is credit card?
He is vaguely handing a large leather folder across the desk
to whomever wants to take it.
WALTER
Yeah.
He takes it, opens it, puts on reading glasses that sit
halfway down his nose, and inspects the bill with his head
pulled back for focus and cocked for concentration. Silence.
The Dude smiles at Donnelly. Donnelly gives back a
mortician's smile. At length Walter holds the bill towards
Donnelly, pointing.
WALTER
What's this?
DONNELLY
That is for the urn.
WALTER
Don't need it. We're scattering the
ashes.
DONNELLY
Yes, so we were informed. However,
we must of course transmit the remains
to you in a receptacle.
WALTER
This is a hundred and eighty dollars.
DONNELLY
Yes sir. It is our most modestly
priced receptacle.
DUDE
Well can we--
WALTER
A hundred and eighty dollars?!
DONNELLY
They range up to three thousand.
WALTER
Yeah, but we're--
DUDE
Can we just rent it from you?
DONNELLY
Sir, this is a mortuary, not a rental
house.
WALTER
We're scattering the fucking ashes!
DUDE
Walter--
WALTER
JUST BECAUSE WE'RE BEREAVED DOESN'T
MEAN WE'RE SAPS!
DONNELLY
Sir, please lower your voice--
DUDE
Hey man, don't you have something
else you could put it in?
DONNELLY
That is our most modestly priced
receptacle.
WALTER
GODDAMNIT! IS THERE A RALPH'S AROUND
HERE?!
Furthermore, the following scene in which Walter actually scatters the ashes and they end up flying all over The Dude, and The Dude just stands there motionless before exploding...fucking perfection.
POINT DUME -- DAY
It is a high, wind-swept bluff. Walter and the Dude walk
towards the lip of the bluff. Parked in the background is
one lonely car, Walter's.
Walter is carrying a bright red coffee can with a blue plastic
lid. When they reach the edge the two men stand awkwardly
for a beat. Finally:
WALTER
I'll say a few words.
The Dude clasps his hands in front of him. Walter clears
his throat.
WALTER
Donny was a good bowler, and a good
man. He was. . . He was one of us.
He was a man who loved the outdoors,
and bowling, and as a surfer explored
the beaches of southern California
from Redondo to Calabassos. And he
was an avid bowler. And a good
friend. He died--he died as so many
of his generation, before his time.
In your wisdom you took him, Lord.
As you took so many bright flowering
young men, at Khe San and Lan Doc
and Hill 364. These young men gave
their lives. And Donny too. Donny
who. . . who loved bowling.
Walter clears his throat.
WALTER
And so, Theodore--Donald--Karabotsos,
in accordance with what we think
your dying wishes might well have
been, we commit your mortal remains
to the bosom of.
Walter is peeling the plastic lid off the coffee can.
WALTER
the Pacific Ocean, which you loved
so well.
AS HE SHAKES OUT THE ASHES:
WALTER
Goodnight, sweet prince.
The wind has blown all of the ashes into the Dude, standing
just to the side of and behind Walter. The Dude stands,
frozen. Finished eulogizing, Walter looks back.
WALTER
Shit, I'm sorry Dude.
He starts brushing off the Dude with his hands.
WALTER
Goddamn wind.
Heretofore motionless, the Dude finally explodes, slapping
Walter's hands away.
DUDE
Goddamnit Walter! You fucking
asshole!
WALTER
Dude! Dude, I'm sorry!
The Dude is near tears.
DUDE
You make everything a fucking
travesty!
WALTER
Dude, I'm--it was an accident!
The Dude gives Walter a furious shove.
DUDE
What about that shit about Vietnam!
WALTER
Dude, I'm sorry--
DUDE
What the fuck does Vietnam have to
do with anything! What the fuck
were you talking about?!
Walter for the first time is genuinely distressed, almost
lost.
WALTER
Shit Dude, I'm sorry--
DUDE
You're a fuck, Walter!
He gives Walter a weaker shove. Walter seems dazed, then
wraps his arms around the Dude.
WALTER
Awww, fuck it Dude. Let's go bowling.
Also, the scene in the bowling alley where Jesus Quintana accuses Walter and The Dude of pulling 'bush league psych out' stuff is classic. Based on this scene, I am now convinced that John Turturro could take a dramatic role in a dramatic film playing a total psycho and at the very least get nominated for an academy award for it.
DUDE AND WALTER
Each with a beer at the scoring table.
WALTER
Sure you'll see some tank battles.
But fighting in desert is very
different from fighting in canopy
jungle.
DUDE
Uh-huh.
WALTER
I mean 'Nam was a foot soldier's war
whereas, uh, this thing should be a
fucking cakewalk. I mean I had an
M16, Jacko, not an Abrams fucking
tank. Just me and Charlie, man,
eyeball to eyeball.
DUDE
Yeah.
WALTER
That's fuckin' combat. The man in
the black pyjamas, Dude. Worthy
fuckin' adversary.
DONNY
Who's in pyjamas, Walter?
WALTER
Shut the fuck up, Donny. Not a bunch
of fig-eaters with towels on their
heads tryin' to find reverse on a
Soviet tank. This is not a worthy--
VOICE
HEY!
The Dude and Walter look.
Quintana is bellowing from the lip of the lane, and is
restrained by O'Brien.
QUINTANA
What's this "day of rest" shit, man?!
Walter looks at him innocently.
QUINTANA
What is this bullshit, man? I don't
fucking care! It don't matter to
Jesus! But you're not fooling me!
You might fool the fucks in the league
office, but you don't fool Jesus!
It's bush league psych-out stuff!
Laughable, man! I would've fucked
you in the ass Saturday, I'll fuck
you in the ass next Wednesday instead!
QUINTANA
He makes hip-grinding coital motions as O'Brien leads him
away.
QUINTANA
You got a date Wednesday, man!
Walter, his head cocked, and the Dude, peeking over his
shades, watch him go.
WALTER
He's cracking.
