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Prior to 1996, the Coen Brothers were a writing and directing duo that courted critics' favor, but whose films remained relegated to the art house circuit. Pictures like Miller's Crossing, Raising Arizona, and Barton Fink featured the brothers' uniquely dry, off-kilter sense of humor, doing little to endear themselves to the public at large. Even 1994's The Hudsucker Proxy, a $25 million (an above-average budget for the time, and far beyond the budget of these auteurs' previous pictures) studio film featuring Paul Newman and Tim Robbins, designed with the express purpose of breaking them into the big-time, was a serious non-starter, making a meager $3 million domestically. So disappointed in Hudsucker's performance were Joel and Ethan Coen that they reportedly decided they would never connect with the zeitgeist in any significant way; they chose to stop trying to be successful, and make movies that entertained themselves no matter how uncommercial their instincts may be. Their next film turned out to be Fargo, grossing over $60 million worldwide off of a $7 million budget, nominated for seven Academy Awards (winning two, Best Actress for Frances McDormand and Best Screenplay for the brothers), and launching them into a world of notoriety for which they may not have been wholly prepared.

It was with a great deal of anticipation, then, that movie fans awaited the next Coen Brothers film. Or so one would think - certainly that's what Universal thought when they bankrolled $15 million (in late-'90s dollars) for a movie about an unambitious stoner whose rug gets peed on after he is mistaken for a different, richer gentleman who shared his name, leading to a wild adventure involving bowling, a group of nihilists, a "vaginal artist", a missing toe, and a pornography director whose last picture was called Gutterballs. I am speaking, of course, of The Dude, and the unconventional film noir saga that is The Big Lebowski.

Looking back, it's hard to believe that The Big Lebowski grossed a mere $7 million at the domestic box office, considering that nearly every movie fan I know counts the picture among his movie collection, and that the mere mention of the phrases, "The Dude abides" or "Don't f*ck with the Jesus" can reliably elicit knowing chuckles from pretty much anyone. It was a theatrical misfire, but The Big Lebowski has, over the past 11 years, become a key touchstone in cinematic history, easily the Coens' most quotable movie, and a personal favorite of mine. After a laserdisc, a couple of versions in DVD, and an HD-DVD release, it will still likely be a bestseller when the inevitable Blu-ray comes, as fans look to soak up all of Roger Deakins' extraordinary wide-angle cinematography in the best quality possible. It's a movie that just gets better with multiple viewings.

I knew from the trailer, featuring the classic vocal stylings of Kenny Rogers with "Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)" and teasing shots of an elaborate musical sequence with Jeff Bridges and Julianne Moore, that The Big Lebowski would be something special. And boy, is it ever. Watching the opening sequence, with The Dude strolling casually down the aisles of a chain supermarket looking for some half-and-half cream with which to mix his beloved White Russians, one could never predict the narrative that was to come. The Big Lebowski is an exercise in the absurd, a spewing forth of twisted imagination held together by a tenuous, yet surprisingly well conceived, plot-line. There's a mystery at the core of The Big Lebowski, and along the way there will be murder, double crosses and femmes fatale. Guns will be drawn, ashes will be strewn, and The Dude's tenaciously laid-back attitude will be put to the test.

So what if people didn't get that The Big Lebowski is a sort of commentary on the conventions of film noir, with pictures like Double Indemnity, The Maltese Falcon, and Chinatown as touchstones. It's not meant to be obvious: the movie's in color, not black and white, and lighting is rarely high key (meaning one source of light, the key, overpowers the rest, often leading to heavy shadows and a light-dark divide on peoples' faces). And it's not the point, either; Lebowski works perfectly well as an absurdist comedy, with the cinema history subtext layered in for film lovers to geek out about. What is truly fantastic about The Big Lebowski is that it is perhaps the brothers' most universally appealing film, despite a plethora of foul language, plot twists that make the word 'unconventional' seem inadequate, and a big fat Busby Berkley musical sequence right in the middle of the narrative. There's something for everyone.

While the critics liked The Big Lebowski - the movie rates 77% fresh at RottonTomatoes.com - it has never achieved the type of mainstream praise of which fans think it is deserving. Tasked with naming the most important pictures in the Coen oeuvre, most would name Fargo (which ranks as number 84 on the American Film Institute's 100 Years... 100 Movies list) and the Oscar winner for Best Picture in 2008, No Country for Old Men. Yet in terms of pure re-watchability and unmitigated entertainment value, it's sure hard to beat The Big Lebowski.

Now, in all likelihood, if you're reading this column, you are already familiar with The Big Lebowski, and hopefully are nodding your head in agreement as you read along. Were it to be released today, it might've been met with the kind of open-armed embrace as The Hangover and Tropic Thunder, or at least The Proposal. Mind you, it might not have, too; maybe word-of-mouth is all that can carry a picture like The Big Lebowski to its inevitable place in the halls of greatness. Regardless, it's an absolute must see for anyone who likes movies, the type of film that doesn't come along often, but just often enough. Find it, buy it, and watch it. You'll see why that rug really tied the room together.