Thursday, January 7, 2010

The Dude meets the Bard

It's been a long week at work, so we haven't really gotten the chance to surf the internets. But this evening, we did. And we ran across this gem: Two Gentlemen of Lebowski. It's The Big Lebowski screenplay rewritten as a Shakespearean play by Adam Berttoci.

You've got The Knave and his bowling pals, Sir Walter and Sir Donald dealing with the likes of Sir Geoffrey of Lebowski and Jaques Treehorn.

My favorite lines:

-Whither the money, Lebowski

-Obviously thou art not a golfer. - The Knave

-Thou attend’st not; and so thou hast no frame of reference. Thou art as a child, wandering and strutting amidst the groundlings as a play is in session, heeding not the poor players, their exits and their entrances, and, wanting to know the subject of the story, asking which is the lover and which the tyrant. - Sir Walter

-A most subtle jest! Nay, but children of the inner city, of good promise, resolved to study but without the means. My lord resolves that they will all attend the university. - Brandt

-Smokey, this be not the foul jungles of the darkest East Orient. This be ninepins. We are bound by laws. - Sir Walter

-Yea, well, that be, forsooth, thy opinion, sir. -The Knave

-O toe!
Thou wouldst have a toe? A toe can be obtain’d.
Ways are known, Knave. Thou wilt not like to hear.
I’ll have a toe for thee this afternoon - Sir Walter

-This befalleth when thou firk’st a stranger ‘twixt the buttocks, Laurence! Understand’st thou? Dost thou attend me? Seest thou what happens, Laurence? Seest thou what happens, Laurence? Seest thou what happens, Laurence, when thou firk’st a stranger ‘twixt the buttocks? - Sir Walter

Fun stuff...hattip, Popcandy.

-

5 comments:

Mike Reino said...

Sir Donald, Shutteth thy Fucketh Up!!

pluvlaw said...

Thoust arn absent thine element, Lord Reino

pluvlaw said...

Thoust arn absent thine element, Lord Reino

Mike Reino said...

How'd they say it then?

pluvlaw said...

I was doing Walter. Or trying at least. Here's how they did that:

Cast it from thy sievelike books of memory, Sir Donald; thou art out of thy element.