The Dude Testament

22. Don’t drag this negative energy into the tournament.

Again, the Dude comports himself admirably under the circumstances. After his door is broken open, and his answering machine has been smashed with a cricket bat,[20] he coolly leans out of the tub to see who’s there and calls out, “Hey man, this is a private residence.” Then, when the cadre of three leather-clad nihilists storm into the bathroom with a wild ferret on a leash, he nods appreciatively, “Nice marmot.” It is not until the crazed animal is thrown into the water to thrash around his crotch region that he starts to scream in terror. Some people have low boiling points. The Dude is such a chilled fellow that even when confronted with the rudest behavior, it takes nothing less than the threat of genital mutilation to bring him to simmer.

In the next scene,the Dude again comically supplicates his powerful, stern, and pathologically unconcerned friend Walter for help. As they sit in the bowling alley and the Dude shares his worry that the nihilists will cut off his “chonsson” if he doesn’t give them the million dollars he lost, Walter says, “You’ve got to buck up. You can’t drag this negative energy into the tournament.” Like most people, Walter can be quite the Dudeist when it comes to other people’s problems.

The Dude does his best, but even he can’t let the situation slide. “Fuck the tournament, and fuck you, Walter!” he wails. It is the first time we see the Dude truly vulnerable. Darkness has “warshed over.” In other words, he is on the brink of letting “this negative energy” defeat him. All is lost! Remember that the Dude’s quest is not for a grail, after all, or money, or even his ratty old rug. His mythological “hero’s journey” is to remain utterly lazy and relaxed even when the world makes it virtually impossible for him to do so.

It is in this dark tookus of the soul moment that the mythical, mysterious, and ludicrously mustachioed narrator, the Stranger, finally appears to provide sage and timely advice. Like some kind of Okie Wan Kenobi, the Stranger plays mentor to our floundering hero when he needs it most, sympathizing and bucking him up the way Walter can’t. As the “Tumbling Tumbleweeds” song from the opening credits fades in, the camera pulls back to reveal Sam Elliott in appropriately anachronistic cowboy garb, seated next to the Dude, ordering a sarsaparilla.

What the fuck is this, man? Some sort of acid flashback? In fact it is, of a kind. The cowboy is a mythical American messenger, like the gods of Olympus, or the angels of the Bible, wandering in from an old Marlboro ad or spaghetti western or peyote postscript, to bring a message from the great beyond, assuring and fortifying this guardian of the Wilde West Dude tradition in his darkest hour. And what is his message?