6. The contemporary figure of the doppelganger (double, alter-ego, shadow self) derives from both literary and cinematic models. Give brief examples of previous models, then compare them with the various manifestations of the doppelganger in the Coens' films. What particular meaning do the Coens attach to these figures?
The Coen brothers have a tendency to use the idea of doubling, or the doppelganger, in subversive ways. Even when they create a set of doubles who must clash – as is the case in Raising Arizona – the doppelganger must always deviate from the classic definition. While steeped in literary and theoretical history, the impish Joel and Ethan Coen cannot resist twisting our expectations of recognizable psychological tropes.
In his essay “The Uncanny”, Sigmund Freud describes the doppelganger as “originally an insurance against destruction of the ego,” in the primitive mind, but manifests itself in the developed ego as “the ghastly harbinger of death” (387). The doppelganger is littered throughout film history, appearing in its most explicit – and possibly literal – form in the expressionistic classic The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari, where Cesare the somnambulist carries out the murderous wishes of the title character after dark. Fritz Lang uses a metaphoric representation of the doppelganger in M, where mirrors and reflections stand in for a direct double of Peter Lorre. When the child murderer’s madness takes over, a reflection – or shadow – is never far behind, the manifestation of his “dark self.”
The doppelganger also appears in “the language of dreams, which it is fond of representing castration by a doubling or multiplication of the genital symbol” (387). It should come as no surprise then that in Raising Arizona, H.I. McDunnough’s doppelganger, the apocalyptic rider Leonard Smalls, first appears in a dream. Smalls is the hyper-masculine expression of manhood that H.I. lacks, as a father and husband. His proclivity for destruction of “little things” expresses Thanatos, the death drive that H.I. lacks (all H.I.M’s guns are unloaded), and he wields dual shotguns, a doubling of the phallic image. Smalls is anything but. H.I. must, in order to prove his manhood, destroy his doppelganger – with literally explosive force – and assert himself as potent.
A more interesting form of “doubling” – a word that frequently appears instead of doppelganger in “The Uncanny” – occurs in The Big Lebowski. To be sure, there are many instances of characters doubling for each other: the two Jeffrey Lebowski’s, the Dude, Walter, and Donny and the Nihilists, amateur detectives The Dude and Da Fino, and the polar opposite Lebowski women (Bunny and Maude). However, the most interesting case of doppelganger comes from two characters that never actually meet.
Maude Lebowski (Julianne
Were it not for Treehorn, The Dude’s relationship with the “other” Jeffrey Lebowski would not be possible; without Maude, he would be a patsy for a non-existent kidnapping scheme. The doubles each invite The Dude to their homes under false pretenses, and his visits invariably begin with nudity and end with violence. It should hardly be considered a coincidence that the doppelganger’s worlds collapse when The Dude is drugged; his Busby-Berkley influenced dream sequence is at once a parody of Treehorn’s porn films and wish fulfillment involving Maude.
Without these dueling alter-egos driving The Dude’s search for a rug that “really ties the room together,” The Big Lebowski would have no catalyst for its story – such as it is.
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