Movie Religions: Dudeism vs The Tao of Gump

Those are the final words of our shambling hero, Jeff “The Dude” Lebowski, at the end of The Big Lebowski, the cult stoner classic from the Coen Brothers. That’s an interesting choice of words: It doesn’t mean he is toeing the line or following the rules of square society. On the contrary, he abides by going with the flow and taking things as they come. For him, that means smoking weed, drinking White Russians, and throwing a few rocks with his buddies at the bowling alley. 

Seven years after The Dude first uttered those words when the film was first released, an entire religion had sprung up: Dudeism, or The Church of the Latter-Day Dude. 

Founded by journalist Oliver Benjamin in 2005, Dudeism might sound like a bit of a joke at first. Yet if you take a trawl through the Dudeist website, you’ll find that it is a surprisingly cogent belief system that light-heartedly blends quotes from the movie with the ancient wisdom of the Tao Te Ching, plus a dash of Buddhism and Epicurean philosophy thrown in for good measure.

Followers of Dudeism, who call themselves “Achievers,” take it at least semi-seriously. Testimonies reveal that people have found it helpful dealing with the stresses of modern society and living more in the now; finding a better work/life balance and avoiding burnout; and generally making time for themselves and taking things easier. Nowadays, Achievers in the United States can even have their wedding ceremony overseen by a Dudeist Minister, of which there are now over 600,000 ordained members in the world.

So how does The Big Lebowski tie in with a belief system that is over 2000 years old? Well, taking it easy is a key factor, one which is linked to the Taoist principle of Wu Wei, or inaction. Inaction isn’t to be confused with laziness, which is an easy mistake to make when we think of The Dude. After all, we’re informed at the start of the movie that he is possibly the laziest man in Los Angeles county.

Instead, it is more like how the Tao Te Ching talks about a blank page:

In Taoism, this is key to leading a contented and enlightened existence. Everything will resolve itself in the fullness of time and the universe has a natural flow. To try changing this course through conscious action is to risk disturbing the cosmic order of things, resulting in a loss of harmony and balance in oneself. In Dudeism, having that balance is to say “Fuck it,” mix yourself another Caucasian and become totally “Dude.” If that balance gets thrown out of whack and your thinking becomes too uptight, you might find yourself becoming “Un-Dude.”

The Big Lebowski can be read as a cautionary tale about what can happen if you become Un-Dude. Fans of the film love The Dude, played wonderfully by Jeff Bridges, because he’s so chilled out. We first meet him ambling around a store in his bathrobe buying milk for his signature cocktail. We later see him relaxing in the bath with a joint and contentedly listening to a whale song tape. This is the Dude in his Dude state.

The Dude is thrown out of balance when he is mistaken for his millionaire namesake, Jeffrey  “The Big” Lebowski (David Huddleston) by two goons working for porn baron Jackie Treehorn (Ben Gazzara). The rich guy’s trophy wife Bunny (Tara Reid) owes money to Treehorn, and the goons break into The Dude’s home to shake him down. When they realise they’ve got the wrong guy, they urinate on his rug as a warning anyway.

Now, perhaps the real Dudeist thing would be for The Dude to just shrug it off and go with the flow, but his buddy Walter (John Goodman) encourages him to seek compensation for the soiled houseware. That’s fair enough, but he doesn’t bear the Big Lebowski’s refusal with a simple shrug. Instead, he goes and steals one from the Lebowski mansion, which goes against the second precept of Taoism, as outlined by Lao Tzu:

Fairly straightforward, right? Well, The Dude is punished for it because his life becomes an Un-Dude nightmare after that point. He is threatened with castration by German Nihilists, drugged by Jackie Treehorn, and assaulted by the Malibu Chief of Police. Stealing the rug is where his life falls out of balance and he must not only solve the mystery of Bunny's kidnapping, but also recover his former Dudeness.

Thankfully, he manages it, which is where we arrive at that final line. The Dude is Dude again, and everything is right with the world. I’m glad Dudeism exists because it has helped me think about things in a different way sometimes, usually when I’m faced with a problem and I realise that I’m holding on too tight. That’s when it’s good to have a little Dudeism in your armoury, which reminds you to take a step back, loosen up, and find your sense of humour again.

I’ve been interested in Dudeism for a few years now, and it has made me wonder why another beloved ‘90s movie character doesn’t have more of a following in these terms: Forrest Gump. After all, he is arguably even more Dude than The Dude.

When it was released in 1994, Forrest Gump was met with largely positive reactions from critics and cleaned up at the box office, lagging behind only The Lion King. It was a pop culture moment with homilies like “Life is like a box of chocolates” instantly entering the lexicon. Directed with slick assurance by Rober Zemeckis, it was a feast for the eyes and had Tom Hanks, coming off the back of his recent Oscar win for Philadelphia, in loveable form as Forrest, a sweet-natured simpleton who lived for his momma and his childhood sweetheart. It was a feel-good movie of blockbuster proportions, but it quickly became a victim of its own success. Beating Pulp Fiction and globally-adored The Shawshank Redemption to the Best Picture Oscar painted a target on its back in many circles, and worse was yet to come. 

In the years since, there has been a critical reappraisal of the film and many think pieces have been written about it, making it surprisingly divisive for such a life-affirming yarn. The National Review championed it as one of the best Conservative movies of all time in 2009. On the other hand, more lefty types have lambasted it for exactly the same thing, claiming it pushes a conformist message and a problematic version of American history. As the battle lines have become entrenched in more recent years, neither side is likely to yield their position on poor old Forrest anytime soon.

For a long while I agreed with the conformist reading of the film, which is a pretty easy line to take. The basic argument follows that Forrest bumbles through life without anything to say, follows orders, never kicks back against authority, and gets rewarded for his obedience with success and riches. Meanwhile, Jenny (Robin Wright) leaves home at the first opportunity, goes out and experiences the world, dives into the counterculture movement, takes drugs and has sex, and gets punished for her rebellious streak with a miserable life and an untimely death.

As close as Forrest and Jenny become as children, they are total opposites. Forrest comes from a loving home and adores his Momma (Sally Field) while Jenny suffers abuse from her drunken dad and can’t wait to get away. They both run, but for different reasons. After Forrest has his crooked spine corrected by leg braces, he finds that he can run really fast. It is his superpower and he unquestioningly runs into the All-American football team, runs to the White House, runs in and out of the jungles of Vietnam and becomes a War Hero, and runs coast-to-coast because he simply feels the urge, becoming an accidental jogging guru. When he’s done, he runs back home again.

Jenny runs because she can’t put enough distance between herself and her abusive childhood in Greenbow, Alabama, but it is her fatal flaw. Running leads her into a downward spiral, performing in a strip joint to make ends meet, struggling with alcohol and drug abuse, and going through a string of bad relationships. Sadly, she can’t bring herself to trust Forrest’s unconditional love until it is too late and she is dying from a new virus, which we assume to be AIDS.

There is an amazing amount of vitriol written about Jenny online. Most of it boils down to people don’t like her because she takes advantage of Forrest’s sweet nature, dropping in and out of his life whenever she needs comfort. That’s an understandable but fundamental mis-reading of Jenny’s tragic arc, which is a realistic portrayal of how many young women who suffer physical and sexual abuse turn out in later life.

All the boxes are there to tick if you take the conformist view of Forrest Gump, but I think it is more interesting to look at the film from a Taoist perspective. The Tao Te Ching speaks of the importance of allowing yourself to become an empty vessel, which sums up Forrest perfectly. His Dudeness, or inaction, stems from his low IQ, which renders him empty and ready to embrace the wonders of the world. Like the white feather that finds its way to Forrest at the beginning of the film, he is just blowing in the wind, never resisting or questioning where life takes him. 

Even when suffering with the pain of Jenny’s rejection or the loss of a loved one, Forrest never becomes Un-Dude. He accepts what life throws his way without kicking back against it like Jenny or Lieutenant Dan, who become Un-Dude because they try to bend the universe to their will. By contrast, Forrest remains open and empty and goes with the flow no matter what, and that’s how he receives his rewards. 

Just take the sequence of events that lead to his fortune, which detractors see as his reward for conformity. When he joins the Marines, he becomes buddies with Benjamin Buford “Bubba” Blue (Mykelti Williamson), a simple lad like himself. While others may have tuned out from Bubba’s shrimp-obsessed ramblings, Forrest takes Bubba for who he is and contently listens to every word he has to say, sowing the seed for his future business enterprise.

When his platoon is ambushed in Vietnam, Forrest bravely runs back into danger to save Bubba, Lieutenant Dan (Gary Sinise), and several other members of his squad. He gets injured in the process, resulting in a spell in hospital where he picks up ping-pong. After he becomes a ping-pong champion, he uses the proceeds to fulfil his promise to Bubba and buy a shrimp boat. 

This not only sets Forrest on course to becoming a very rich man, it gives him a way to help Lieutenant Dan find salvation. Dan didn’t want Forrest to save him because he believed it was his destiny to die in battle like his ancestors, and becomes an embittered alcoholic after losing his legs. Forrest doesn’t give this much thought; he just acted on instinct and saved Dan’s life, and later will help save his soul, too. By the end of the movie, going with the flow like this reveals what his goal is: To become a loving father and husband, bringing Jenny happiness in the last few months of her life.

Taoism teaches that people should accept themselves without pushing their opinions or agenda on others. It also says that people should accept other people for who they are, too. Forrest isn’t driven to overcome his disability because he is simply himself and he takes everyone he meets on their own terms. We might think that maybe Forrest could push Jenny or Lieutenant Dan to shape up a bit sooner, but the crucial thing is this: from the moment he first meets them, he already sees them as the best that they can be and allows them to find out for themselves without judging their faults. Luckily, they do: Jenny finally allows herself to be loved and have a home and family, and Dan finds peace after a final rant at God and letting himself simply exist in the moment.

Forrest is an empty vessel and he has a low IQ, but that isn’t to say he isn’t capable of wisdom. As he says towards the end of the movie standing beside Jenny’s grave:

With this speech, Forrest nicely sums up the duality and apparent contradictions of Taoism: Achieving contentment and enlightenment through non-action; receiving wisdom by understanding nothing; emptying oneself to embrace everything. When Forrest’s story is told, the white feather floats away again. Where will it land next? It doesn’t matter, because it will go where it will go.

So all this is very nice and I think it’s a much more positive read on a popular film. There are articles that go into the Tao of Gump in far more depth, but people don’t exactly seem to be flocking to it the way they are to Dudeism.

The answer to this probably lies in its divisive nature, which is contended by both sides of a political divide. The Big Lebowski is a cult movie and people who don’t like it or don’t get it are happy for its fans to have it. It’s different with Forrest Gump, which has two opposing forces either celebrating or bashing it for the exactly same thing.

The Conservative types who have claimed Forrest Gump as a shining example of a good Conservative film are never going to get into all this Eastern philosophy stuff. That’s more the domain of folk who watch weird stoner movies like The Big Lebowski. On the flip side, the people who bash Forrest Gump for pushing a Conservative view of the world - who, incidentally, are more the kind of people who hold up The Dude as an idol - aren’t likely to praise Forrest too much for his Taoist merits. Stuck between these two poles, Forrest may be one of the Dudest characters in American cinema, but he’s never going to be The Dude. And you know what? If we’re looking at this from a Taoist perspective, there is no need to force the issue. The Tao of Gump is there and waiting for people who find their way to it.

So there you have it, a little comparative religion for the blog. Are you team Lebowski or team Gump? Do you or could you ever see yourself following a movie-based religion? Let us know!