French-Canadian filmmaker Denis Villeneuve has a well-earned reputation as one of filmdom’s more visionary and ambitious practitioners. He has trod the path of the science-fiction epic before, with Arrival (2016) and Blade Runner 2049 (2017), and Dune was reportedly a long-term passion project for him; so much so that he was willing to commit to two full-length films just to cover the first novel, with the production of the sequel being conditional on the box-office success of the first instalment. His vision for the project is all the more laudable when one considers that the inherent density and scope of Frank Herbert’s source material has defeated more than one gifted and eminent filmmaker before him. The most noteworthy example of this failure was probably David Lynch, whose bold, eccentric and largely unsuccessful 1984 attempt to film the ‘unfilmable’ was, perhaps unsurprisingly, largely unwatchable.
Of course, Herbert’s original novel presents an immense challenge to Villeneuve and Lynch and others who have attempted to translate his work to the screen. There is the far-reaching scope of Herbert’s vision; perhaps only Tolkien and Asimov have presumed to create an entire universe complete with alien cultures, ecosystems, and mythology. But to add a further degree of difficulty, there is the challenge presented by Herbert’s dense, circular prose style; the author himself openly admitted that he conceived and wrote large parts of his novel whilst under the influence of ‘magic mushrooms’. This is an insight which sheds new light on the novel’s elaborate faux mysticism, premised on the mysterious and much-coveted substance known as “spice” which, among other things, somehow makes interstellar navigation possible. This enigmatic theme might help to explain Dune’s status as a counter-culture classic dating from its halcyon days in the 1960s, and its frequently impenetrable prose has cemented its status as possibly the most celebrated, ubiquitous yet unread book in the English language, at least until the publication of Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History Of Time.
In his previous ventures in the realm of the science fiction epic, Villeneuve has revealed a deft hand in storytelling on a very broad canvas whilst simultaneously evoking character and internal conflict on a far more intimate, personal level. There exists the danger that in a large-scale sci-fi epic such as Dune individual characters and actors can get lost and overshadowed; this was certainly the case in Lynch’s ill-fated 1984 version, where otherwise accomplished actors such as Kyle McLachlan and Francesca Annis looked profoundly ill at ease. But here Villeneuve’s cast generally serves him well. Timothee Chalamet has hitherto made his name in much smaller independent or “art house” films such as Lady Bird and Call Me by Your Name, but in the pivotal role of Paul, the scion and heir apparent to the Atreides house, he exhibits an intriguing mixture of brooding Hamlet-like diffidence (when contemplating his seemingly predestined role) and caught-between-worlds angst and curiosity (as he begins to explore his alternative destiny as a kind of alien messiah to the Fremen, the long-suffering indigenous desert dwellers of Arrakis).
The enigmatic Fremen woman Chani, portrayed with a beguiling combination of mystery and allure by Zendaya, appears in Paul’s premonitory dreams and her relationship with Paul serves as a gateway for him into his new alien home; her role promises to become more significant in the upcoming second instalment. She also serves to frame the narrative from the opening scenes, and to give explicit expression to the theme of colonialism and exploitation; it is Chani who initially gives voice to the perception that oppression by off-world powers is all that she has ever known. This theme is present in Herbert’s novel but is very much in the background, with the initial focus more occupied with the political machinations between the all-powerful Imperium and the rival ducal houses of Atreides and Harkonnen. Villeneuve’s screenplay, which he co-wrote with Eric Roth and Jon Spaihts, places this theme squarely in the foreground, and the portrayal of the Fremen as desert dwelling pseudo-Arab tribespeople with their own distinctive cultures, language and customs, makes the parallels with our own contemporary real world all too obvious.
As Lady Jessica, Paul’s mother and consort to the doomed Duke Leto Atreides (a stoic Jason Isaac), Rebecca Ferguson has the more difficult assignment; the film makes gives her a more ambiguous role. As Paul’s mother and erstwhile protector, her adherence to the obscure Bene Gesserit religion means that she has divided loyalties, clearly on display when she and Paul are forced to fight for survival in the aftermath of the violent Harkonnen coup. Ferguson’s performance as a conflicted mother, who seemingly knows more than she is able to say, is finely calibrated and certainly whets the appetite for her further character development in the sequel.
Villeneuve’s previous experience with cinematic sci-fi epics certainly helps to ensure the success of his version of Dune, in particular his eye for detail, essential to any convincing evocation of an alien world. The cinematography by Greg Fraser is exceptional, and the film’s seamless combination of big canvas spectacle and intimate character study is a rare commodity indeed. If the film’s strengths are many and obvious, so is the main defect. The film’s pacing is leisurely to say the least; sci-fi aficionados might be inclined to compare the film’s stately rate of progress to Stanley Kubrick’s 2001 A Space Odyssey (1969). This is perhaps an inevitable consequence of Villeneuve’s choice to divide Herbert’s first novel across two films. In doing so, he has given Herbert’s vision the time and space to be realised on-screen like never before. The overall end result is that the viewer is left with an authentically novel experience; to actually look forward, with genuine enthusiasm, to a “blockbuster” sequel.
