Dune is a Cinematic Spectacular, Achievement in Adaptation
I get fired up to defend this movie against any criticism. *puts up dukes*
The Short Take:
In Dune, Denis Villeneuve masterfully creates a dazzling, complex, and immersive world, populated with an unrivaled ensemble cast. Knowing that this is part one of two prior to viewing is essential for managing expectations. Despite the criticisms, this feels like the start to an epic, once in a generation science fiction film series.
Image Credit: Forbes
The Long Take:
[I’d love for more people to see this film, so this review will be mostly spoiler free. I’ll flash another warning later on when I shift to spoiler mode.]
When I watch a film, I want nothing more than to be transported. And, for me, deep, intricate science fiction and fantasy world-building pushes that button more than anything. Worlds with their own languages, customs, and attitudes. Names for things, people, and places that feel so lived in and normal within the confines of the film, but feel completely counterintuitive or unfamiliar outside of it. Allegorical conflicts and struggles. And, as corny as it sounds, a sense of wonder. I want to learn about how a new world works as the story unfolds, and the work of doing that is actively a part of the pleasure of consumption.
Critics and viewers alike have repeatedly noted that when they watch Dune they feel like they did when they watched The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring for the first time, and I think that this is largely due to Denis Villeneuve’s commitment to visually and aurally building out a fully-realized, engrossing world for us. In a futurist, brutalist style studded with aesthetics from several ancient or medieval cultures, both Eastern and Western, Villeneuve makes each frame worth hanging in a museum. It’s as if he put Bladerunner 2049 and Gladiator in a blender to create something utterly otherworldly. There are helicopters that look like dragonflies, with elegant wings that flutter. There are ornate metallic headdresses that cascade down faces. Shadowy figures with oversized beekeeper hoods. Soldiers with crustaceous plated armor. Force field body shields that phase in and out of visibility. A paper parasol.
And every craftsperson working with Villeneuve brought their A game, from the production design to costumes and hair and make-up (the Internet is already enamored with Oscar Isaac’s beard). Awe-inspiring cinematography and chilling sound design paired with Hans Zimmer’s masterful score, grandiose yet delicately haunting, execute the director’s vision perfectly. Any one of these elements being out of place or less than perfect potentially brings down the whole production because the audience won’t buy the science fiction. They are all impeccable.
Image Credit: Screen Rant
But sound and sight can only get Villeneuve so far; a fully realized world needs words. Words like Bene Gesserit, Mentat, Fremen, House Atreides, House Harkonnen, crysknife, gom jabbar, Giedi Prime, Arrakis, Kwisatz Haderach, Mahdi, Sardaukar, and Shai-hulud are just a fraction of the terms a viewer needs to learn. This first film, as many critics have noted, has a lot of exposition. I’m not about to disagree with that. While I, too, am normally very wary of exposition, especially front-loaded at the beginning of a film to “get it out of the way,” I didn’t feel that the exposition in this weighed it down for three reasons:
1.) most of the time exposition occurs as conversations between two characters and not purely for our benefit. Either a more experienced character explains a concept to another less experienced character or the protagonist, Paul, learns about Arrakis and his people through a holographic encyclopedia that explains something in a more technical mode. If characters are learning while we’re learning, that furthers the story.
2.) These scenes are spread out, woven into the narrative as opposed to served in huge chunks.
And 3.) whenever we do get more traditional voiceover exposition, Villeneuve sets it to discrete, dynamic scenes rather than just showing us exactly what the exposition explains.
When I try to think of a contrasting example of poorly used exposition, I always think back to the 2007 adaptation of The Golden Compass. The more standard exposition dragged down the start of that film so that those who hadn’t read the books were overwhelmed and I, as a longtime fan of them, became bored. I was NEVER bored during Dune, and many critics who purposely did not read the novel beforehand report that they found the story surprisingly easy to follow. Here’s my hot take on this: If you find Dune’s story boring — even if you weren’t confused — but you were way into Game of Thrones, I’m putting you on notice. Dune has all the inter-house politics and power grab scheming of the hit HBO series, just without sex and (at times gratuitous) violence. I was also a big fan of the show (minus the last season), and am not deriding its use of sex and violence. HBO needed to get butts in the seats and George R. R. Martin is a much more salacious author than Frank Herbert. The political turmoil, however, is primarily what kept me tuning in every week. (Also dragons and dire wolves.)
At this point, I’ve probably gushed too long without explaining the plot of this movie. Dune follows Paul, heir to the House Atreides, preparing to move to the desert planet Arrakis after the Emperor decrees that his family will assume its rule, replacing the existing House in power, the Harkonnens. Paul’s father, the Duke Leto Atreides, hopes to undo 80 years of the Harkonnens’ abuse and exploitation of the planet and its people, finding what I would generously call a more sustainable way of harvesting the universe’s most valuable commodity, spice. The Harkonnens are, unsurprisingly, very unhappy with this situation, and start a war with House Atreides to regain control over the planet. Meanwhile, Paul comes to terms with his role in all this. His mother, a member of a mystical order called the Bene Gesserit, has been training him to cultivate the power to control people with “The Voice,” and a prophecy that he may be some kind of “chosen one” in multiple contexts emerges. His hero’s journey begins when he arrives on Arrakis.
Writing that synopsis makes me appreciate what Villeneuve did even more. Herbert’s dense novel seems like it would be nigh impossible to adapt. And Villeneuve not only did it, but did it well.
And that’s why I want to defend him against the “we only got half a movie” critics, of which there are many. The Movie Podcast’s review, for example, reiterated several times that Dune part one is not in fact like The Fellowship of the Ring at all. It’s more like if Peter Jackson decided to end Fellowship just after Gandalf assembles them and they haven’t done anything yet. While I can see why they would say that, I don’t think the criticism is entirely fair. If I compare the two source texts, one has so much less table setting to do than the other because most of Fellowship is a mystery withheld from reader and Frodo for quite some time.
What would critics have wanted instead? An overly truncated distillation of Herbert’s entire novel? If Villeneuve had done that, we’d be hearing all about how he cut too many corners and the story doesn’t mean as much as a result. I, for one, would much rather have all the depth and texture of the Dune universe preserved. Why are we complaining about getting more content? I know Warner Bros. has not officially announced that Dune Part 2 is in the works, but Villeneuve makes it sound like a forgone conclusion in interviews. Would the studio really risk everyone lambasting them for only making part one? I don’t believe that films should adapt novels as faithfully as possible — far from it. The inherent structure of most novels isn’t compatible with what works structurally for a film. That’s not what I’m talking about when I say that it’s okay to take longer, telling one book in two films. I was surprised by how many scenes Villeneuve retained, but I think in this case it works because, as I said earlier, there’s so much world-building to do.
I’ll accept, though, that poor marketing may lead moviegoers and at-home streamers to expect one thing and get another, disappointing them unnecessarily. That’s why I’m writing this review now: to tell you that this is, as Zendaya’s character, Chani, says, “just the beginning.” Zendaya, by the way, actually has very little screen time in part one. Presumably she will play a much larger role in part two. I think if you go into this expecting the beginning of a trilogy or even longer series of films, you won’t have much problem with what you get at the end of the two hours and 35 minutes. Admittedly, I had heard on the Ringerverse’s preview episode that this film was only going to cover about the first half of the novel, so I was not mad about where it ended at all.
[WARNING we are now entering spoiler territory. Make sure you have your stillsuit on properly if you wish to proceed.]
When and where exactly Villeneuve chooses to end, however, is worth questioning. While I had no qualms with concluding partway through Herbert’s original novel, I did wonder if moviegoers would accept the quieter, smaller scale fight between Paul and a Fremen named Jamis as a fitting end to a big science fiction spectacle. Because of this, I actually thought that we would end right after the scene where Duncan Idaho — played by Jason Mamoa, who is just oozing space adventurer charisma — single-handedly takes on an entire horde of Sardaukar super soldiers so that Paul, Lady Jessica, and Kynes can escape. Instead, the film kept going for maybe another half hour as Paul and his mother trudge through the desert until they encounter the group of Fremen, who very tensely determine whether or not they will accept the two outworlders into their fold. Sure enough, multiple critics across several podcasts that I respect called this final fight “anti-climactic.” If I’m thinking about Paul’s internal journey, however, from competent yet green son of a Duke to fearless leader and possible messiah, this is a logical endpoint to that arc.
There’s a small problem there, though, because, compared to Herbert’s novel, the transformation Paul undergoes is not as clear. And this was really the only place where Villeneuve disappointed me. In the novel, the spice flooding Paul’s senses in the middle of the desert, as he and his mother fight to survive, unlocks something and catalyzes his evolution. (Almost like a Pokemon! Sorry, I had to.). He seems to plug into this universe’s equivalent of the matrix and can see past, present, and future simultaneously. He suddenly realizes he can be the one to give the Fremen back to Arrakis and — yes, I’m going to say it — bring balance to the Force. Paul’s ascension to his new self, Muad’dib, is much more muted in the film. We see him react to the spice and sputter a bunch of incomprehensible ideas, and he does lash out at Lady Jessica for burdening him with power and prophecy as he does in the novel. Otherwise, though, he seems mostly the same. This scene brings out the human vulnerability of Paul in a way that I really liked, but the choice to not play up Paul’s superhuman abilities feeds into the overall anti-climactic feel of the ending. We don’t even hear him say, “Yes. They’ll call me…Muad’dib, ‘The One That Points the Way.’” Instead, we just get several shots framing Paul’s gaze upon a literal muad’dib, or desert mouse, hopping along the sands of Arrakis. So as someone who has read this already, I can see the wink and nod. But it’s very subtle and subtextual, especially for a non-novel reader.
This is not to say that Timothee Chalamet isn’t giving a multi-faceted, impactful performance. For me, he perfectly captures the unique blend of scared youth and prodigy maturity that defines Paul. Many characters underestimate him because he’s physically slight and seems too young to be some kind of savior or replacement for his father, but, despite Villeneuve’s decision to naturalize his abilities at the end of this film, I believed that he could become Muad’dib in the next. This personality paradox is at the core of Paul’s appeal as a character for me.
Image Credit: Polygon
I was extremely pleased with the cast in general. Oscar Isaac stands out as the perfect Duke Atreides. He plays the stern yet loving idealist. The scene where he tells Paul that he will find his place as leader of their house in his own time and way was my favorite of his. When he says, “And if your answer is no, you’ll still be the only thing I ever needed you to be. My son,” my heart grew at least two sizes. Javier Bardem, despite his small role, is a total scene-stealer as Fremen leader Stilgar. The way he dismissively waves his hands at the Atreides assembly and says, “I have nothing more to say to you” as he unceremoniously exits was a master class in star power. And I loved that Villeneuve cast actress Sharon Duncan-Brewster as Kynes, who is male in the novel. She brought a gravitas and heart to the character, and I really believed that she would sacrifice herself for the culture into which she has assimilated. My only complaint is that she dies before she’s able to really do much.
My only issue with the portrayal of a character might have been with Rebecca Ferguson’s Lady Jessica. I wouldn’t blame Ferguson exactly, as I thought she did an amazing job of showing us Lady Jessica’s vulnerability and subsequent grit when she’s able to quell her fears with the infamous “Fear is the mind-killer” mantra. But there weren’t enough scenes where she was just absolutely formidable in the way that I saw her as I was reading the novel. I wanted more of how she was in the ornithopter hostage breakout scene. I wanted her to use The Voice or just exhibit the confidence of someone who can use The Voice more. At this point, though, I’m being really, really picky.
And the sandworms! The sand worms were EPIC. I’ve been trying not to use that word because it can be a crutch, but these massive gargantuan beasts that rumble the earth as they slither through the sands of Arrakis deserve it. I wish I’d left myself time to talk about them and the sandworm walk more.
Image Credit: Polygon
If it’s not already obvious, I really loved this movie. I hope that others will take a chance on it. It’s beautiful to look at, it hypnotized me with the complete world Villeneuve has created, and I already want to rewatch it again and again.