Archive | Freudian RSS feed for this section

Dude-a-palooza

25 Aug
Maude Lebowski bowls

“Your roll, New York,” says Lebowski Fest. Maude Lebowski (Julianne Moore), daughter of the Big Lebowski, not the Dude Lebowski.

This weekend Lebowski Fest was scheduled to bring fans of the Dude (Jeff Bridges in the The Big Lebowski [1998]) to Lucky Strike Lanes on far-west 42nd Street and Gramercy Theater on East 23rd Street. Although I have no reason to think the festival didn’t take place, I can’t say with certainty that it did, because I’m not a big enough Lebowski fan to have taken part. My lack of fandom for what’s been called a stoner masterpiece is of no consequence; easily enough without it, “The Dude abides.”

I had to do a Google search to be reminded whether there were any dream scenes. I have a poor enough memory for plot details, and this is a Coen Brothers movie about which, according to Wikipedia quoting an Indie Wire article, “Joel Coen stated: ‘We wanted to do a [Raymond] Chandler kind of story – how it moves episodically, and deals with the characters trying to unravel a mystery, as well as having a hopelessly complex plot that’s ultimately unimportant.'” As Roger Ebert described it, “‘The Big Lebowski’ is about an attitude, not a story….Only a steady hand in the midst of madness allows them [the Coen Brothers] to hold it all together–that, and the delirious richness of their visual approach.” All of which explains this film’s cult-fest worthiness. (Ebert’s review provides interesting backstory about the Coens’ inspiration for the main character.)

It turns out there are at least two major dream scenes, beloved of fans. One is a flying dream. The other is a Busby Berkeley* type of dance number to  Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In) by Kenny Rogers & the First Edition (1968). Continue reading

Freudian ordure

11 Apr

“Bathroom” dreams are one of those types that supposedly happen in everyone’s dream life, and synchronistically/precognitively, I had one this morning, although it wasn’t set in a bathroom.

No details will be forthcoming here, but I will explain why the dream was synchronistic. In one of the fits of filing with which I’ve been attacking an old and dreary pile of papers, I came across half an article I’d cut out of The New York Observer‘s culture pages at some indeterminate date earlier this year. The exhibit described, of art about math, still sounds interesting, so I went online to determine whether I’ve missed it. I haven’t: it’s “Proofs and Refutations” at David Zwirner Gallery, through April 23.

The first half of the article, which I didn’t cut out, is about an exhibit at the Algus Greenspon Gallery, also through April 23. Says Observer writer Will Heinrich (“The Offal Truth,” March 22, 2011):

Since the 1990s, inspired by a reference in The Interpretation of Dreams, the English performance artist Stuart Brisley has been constructing a “Collection of Ordure.” Several prime examples of his collection—one is tempted to say “ripe,” but they’re odorless—are on display in the Village…