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 –