As an experiment, I went into this film knowing as little as possible of its story or source material; I haven’t read Frank Herbert’s beloved books nor David Lynch’s apparently misguided 1984 adaptation, and avoided as many trailers as humanly possible. This may have been a mistake. Dune shows the rumblings of a futuristic war and the coming of a messianic figure, largely set on a dangerous and giant worm-infested dessert planet. The book series has been considered “unfilmable” due to its dense, intricate plotting, and it indeed proves to be a mostly untamable beast. Denis Villeneuve’s latest adaptation is packed with gorgeous visuals and inventive futurism, and is likely thrilling and satisfying complementary material to fans of the books—but Dune initially struggles with properly articulating the ambitious source material on screen.
I’m always a little worried when a film needs to spend it’s first minutes with a voiceover exposition dump, instead of dropping audiences in and finding organic ways to build out the world. Sure, Star Wars had an opening crawl, but if you removed that and watched the first 10 minutes, you’d have the clear idea of the story, the conflict, and the stakes. The comparison may be unfair, but ultimately you shouldn’t have to have read a book to understand a movie—an issue which plagued much of the first half of the film, threatening to sink the whole effort. Luckily, the disorientation doesn’t last, and the film hits a groove where the relationship of characters, stakes of the story, and significance of events complement the experience instead of distract from it. Despite the initial confusion, there are some elegant examples of world-building, where the lack of explanation of customs or technology does lends itself a feeling of lived-in naturalism.
Most of the stumbles can be forgiven thanks to director Denis Villeneuve’s mastery of the craft and the breathtaking production design. If you have any familiarity with Villeneuve’s portfolio (Blade Runner 2049, Arrival, Sicario), Dune lives up to the visually-resplendent standard Villienueve has set. He never fails to amaze, once again solidifying his reputation as an unskippable filmmaker. Villeneuve’s last feature, 2017’s Blade Runner 2049, delivered a beautiful, haunting follow-up to the beloved 1982 cult classic; a true successor and inventive continuation of the themes and story built in that iconic original. But Blade Runner 2049 was also a deliberately-paced, thoughtful, mostly action-less, overlong, science fiction that went unrewarded at the box office—so naturally Tinseltown said, “OK, but what if we let you do that exactly again?” His talents and interests seem perfectly suited to this project and adapting this unwieldy story for the big screen—and I truly can’t overstate that. Obviously it’s helpful to many that the film is available to stream, but I would encourage you to experience it on as large a screen as possible. The costumes, technology, and creature design are incredible, and Villeneuve perfectly blends digital and practical effects in a way that completely absorbs you into the world. He expertly builds and maintains a sense of scale throughout the movie, and the payoff of teasing the miles-long sand worms is staggering on the big screen.
The film features a cast of heavy-hitters, the most engaging being Oscar Isaac and Jason Momoa, who inject a liveliness and emotion into a curiously emotionally-cold movie. Rebecca Ferguson feels a little underutilized, while Stellan Skarsgård is suitably creepy and grotesque. Some cast members are given short shrift, but clearly established to have expanded roles in a Part Two. Sadly, the weakest link in the film is its star: Timothée Chalamet, for all the crowning as a critical darling, is simply and unfortunately miscast as Paul Atreides, the messianic figure established at the heart of the story. He is never quite able to muster the charisma or gravitas to carry the film or land potentially-stirring dialogue. His performance often comes off as wooden and one-note instead of stoic and resolved. Sometimes a stilted performance is perfectly suited for the film; the best example of using an actor’s strengths is how expertly The Matrix and John Wick films utilize Keanu Reeve’s particular energy. At the risk of further putting me in Beloved Book Adaptation Jail, watching Chalamet kept bringing to mind Jennifer Lawrence’s jarring miscast as the heroine of The Hunger Games. Similarly, it’s not that Chalamet is talentless, just entirely mismatched for this role.
It’s hard to know what to make of this film when you’re only seeing half the story. The opening reveals this film as Part One, and a Part Two could build upon this foundation or retroactively drag it down. And to be fair, if anyone can pull this off, it’s Denis Villeneuve. The film is long, perhaps needlessly (although fans of the books will likely say it needed to be longer). With the budgets, newfound prestige, and blurred lines separating movies and TV, I’m more convinced that no book series needs to be adapted into a movie, and is best served by TV’s similar pacing and structure. As it stands, Dune is unable to entirely clear the hurdles inherent in adapting this story—but any cohesive shortcomings shouldn’t prevent you from seeing it. If there’s ever been a justification for the existence of movie theaters, in an age when anyone can comfortably stream anything into their living room, it’s Dune. Villeneuve has delivered a visual powerhouse, with imagery and sound production so overwhelming, even the most jaded critic would begrudgingly whisper to the person next to them: “…OK, that was cool though.” (But also, don’t talk in the theater.)
Dune is currently playing in theaters and available to stream on HBO Max. It runs 155 minutes and is rated PG-13 for sequences of strong violence, some disturbing images and suggestive material.
