The best science fiction uses semi-plausible ideas and imagery to ask the big questions, or get us caring about its characters. The recent films from Denis Villeneuve have internalized that idea: Arrival juxtaposes the limits of compassion and regret, while Blade Runner 2049 considers what it means to be human. It follows that Dune, his adaptation of Frank Herbert’s sprawling 1965 novel, should continue in that tradition. Somehow it has few ideas beyond its impressive special effects, and inert characters with fates that barely register. Dune is only half a story – the title card notes it is only “Part One” – and deserves some latitude, but only up to a point.
Before Villeneuve gets to the desert planet Arrakis, he spends time with Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) on the temperate planet Caladan. Villeneuve and cinematographer Greg Fraser depict this planet, with imposing cliffs and oceans, in wan shades of blue and green. The filmmaker has little use for a vibrant palette, and the austere interiors similarly have no “lived in” quality. The screenplay, co-written by Villeneuve along with Eric Roth and Jon Spaihts, also keeps a respectful distance from the characters. Paul may have an adventurous streak, although he spends most of the film doing what he is told, whether the instruction is from his father Duke Leto (Oscar Isaac) or his mother Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson). Expectations could not be higher for Paul, since he is heir to House Atreides, and they have an important new mission on Arrakis.
Those expectations lead to an uninspired archetype: Chalamet is one of our most charismatic young actors, although here is mostly sullen or frightened. It is a wet blanket of a performance. As Duke Leto, Isaac’s performance has more nuance since this film gives him a complete arc. There is an intriguing mix of pride and regret because Duke Leto believes in honor, even when he walks into a trap. He takes his family and followers to Arrakis to mine “spice,” the universe’s most valuable resource, despite major political and existential threats. Aside from gigantic space worms that roam the planet – true to the source novel, they look like giant gaping buttholes – there are two groups of humans that resent the Atreides presence. The brutal House Harkonnen, led by the blob-like Baron (Stellan Skarsgård), had their post on Arrakis taken from them, while the Arrakis’ native population the Fremen want the interlopers off the planet entirely. This all leads to a siege on House Atreides, one that leaves Paul with no recourse but to wander the desert.
The “wandering the desert” fate is one of many ways Abrahamic religion influences on Dune, since Paul might also be the universe’s singular savior. Despite all the tangents and factions, including the mysterious all-female Bene Gesserit, Paul’s prodigal son arc is so familiar – so entrenched in our culture – that Villeneuve could have made a leaner, meaner version of this story. Yes, David Lynch famously fumbled his more complete Dune adaptation, except he tried to explain everything, while this Dune wisely glosses over a lot of minutiae. It shows more than it tells, a typically laudable principle in filmmaking, except it show and shows until the narrative weirdly becomes the background.
Indeed, Villeneuve’s primary interest is the enormity of this civilization. The spaceships and canvases are massive, giving a striking sense of scale, but Villeneuve feels they justify themselves, when they are typically one of many ways to advance the story. You know how Star Wars includes many scenes where Darth Vader and the others enter and exit spaceships? This Dune suggests those were Villeneuve’s favorite parts, since he pads out his two-and-a-half hour runtime with many, many entrances and exits. The look of Arrakis doubles the frustration, as the browns and grays do less than Caladan to capture our imagination. Great films have been set in the desert (Lawrence of Arabia is a clear source of inspiration), although they are buoyed by strong personalities, or characters are who too stubborn to die. Paul may be another interloping savior; he’s just no Lawrence.
Dune is an impressive technical exercise, one that benefits from large-format screens, at least until the enormity somehow becomes monotonous. The “climax” of the film, the destruction of House Atreides, is really the end of act one. Villeneuve depicts battles, fights, explosions and mass murder that never once strikes an emotional note, whereas even more “cerebral” sci-fi like 2001: A Space Odyssey leads to palpable feelings of paranoia and awe. If Villeneuve has the opportunity for “Part Two,” then this Dune deserves a reevaluation. Until then, it is both frustrating and incomplete, an epic that celebrates grandeur for its own sake, so that finally humanity is an afterthought.
Photo courtesy of Warner Bros.
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