The Dudes Abide: The Coen Brothers and the Making of The Big Lebowski

by Alex Belth

Much of the cast was in place save for Bunny and Brandt and, critically, the Big Lebowski. You know, the other Jeffrey Lebowski, the tycoon whose Pasadena mansion is both miles and worlds away from the Dude’s rundown bungalow. With just over a month left before filming began, the Boys — as Joel and Ethan were known by colleagues and friends — weren’t close to casting the title role. The trouble was that most of the actors they wanted were dead. Raymond Burr? Dead. Fred Gwynne? Dead. Anthony Perkins, Marty Balsam, Chuck Connors? All dead. Brian Keith was ill (he died less than a year later). Jason Robards was said to be having health problems. The original Lebowski list was dubbed “Mussburger lists” — referring to Paul Newman’s character from The Hudsucker Proxy. It included Tommy Lee Jones (too young), Robert Duvall (not interested, didn’t get it), Anthony Hopkins (not interested, wouldn’t play an American), Gene Hackman (not interested, wanted a vacation), and Jack Nicholson (not interested, only wanted to play Moses).

We talked about the Upper West Side and how the old neighborhood had changed. Then they told me about their new movie and said I could come along with them to L.A. as their personal assistant. They would pay for my flight if I could find a place to live and rent a car. Best of all, when filming began, maybe I could move to the cutting room and sync the dailies, a promotion from apprentice to assistant editor. They offered me $400 a week, less than I was making as an apprentice. I asked for $500. Ethan made a gagging noise. He looked at his brother and Joel said that they’d get back to me. A few days later, Margo left a message on my answering machine. “I guess they like you enough to give you what you want.”

My duties were light. I answered the phones, took care of hotel and travel arrangements, and made copies of The Big Lebowski script. I got Ethan coffee at Starbucks and Joel coffee from any place other than Starbucks because he fucking hated Starbucks. I was also put in charge of making lunch. Joel stood next to me one afternoon and looked over my shoulder as I made spaghetti carbonara. He appreciated that I’d worked in editing rooms because that’s how he started. He told me about working on horror movies and about their friend the director Sam Raimi, and how much both he and Ethan liked Preston Sturges’ movies, especially The Palm Beach Story.

Here is how the Dude is introduced on Page 1 of the first version of the script I read: 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. We know only a few things about the Dude’s past. He was part of the Seattle 7, he roadied for Metallica on the “Speed of Sound” tour. Otherwise, his rumpled look, relaxed manner, and deep running casualness said it all. The Dude reminded me of Elliot Gould as Phillip Marlowe in The Long Goodbye. “The Dude abides” was not much different from Marlowe’s refrain, “It’s okay with me.”

Joel described the dynamic between the Dude and Walter. “It’s like the relationship with your mother where … like the Dude can’t help it but Walter pushes his buttons. Like that relationship when you’re very close with someone but they can drive you fucking nuts. It’s definitely a yin-yang thing. It’s trading off. When one is calm, the other is popping. In a way, the movie is about how these two interact. In a way, it’s a portrait of a dysfunctional marriage.” “It’s a George and Gracie thing,” said Ethan. “I don’t think Walter carries his anger. It’s residual.”