When Dune was first brought to the big screen in 1984, both casual moviegoers and long-time fans of the book series were disappointed. This comes as no surprise, even with cinematic legend David Lynch at the helm. The fact of the matter is this: no matter how hard anyone would’ve tried, visualizing Frank Herbert’s ginormous sci-fi masterpiece — in the eighties, no less — was beyond impossible. They didn’t know it then, but it would take the combined efforts of film technology beyond imagination, and a herculean director to accomplish such a task. Viewers didn’t know it in 2017 either, but when Denis Villeneuve gave the world Blade Runner 2049 — a flawless extension of Ridley Scott’s original 1982 screenplay — the universe chose Dune’s next studio leader.
Almost all of the film takes place on Arrakis, a sand planet whose abundance of “spice” makes it the galaxy's most valuable intergalactic location, and in turn the stories primary source for plotline. Villeneuve’s depiction of Arrakis is beautiful, and it says something about the usage of sand-on-screen. Most notable is his use of scale in such an environment. Simply put, Dune could very well be the largest movie ever made — period. Space vessels and fleets of soldiers are endless in size. There are worms that stretch over football fields in length. Palaces and cities built atop (or under) the landscape in question are incomprehensibly vast. Nothing, however, compares to the sand, which makes each and every moving piece inside Villeneuve’s look like specks of dust on a dangerously hot carpet.
Excluding prologues, epilogues and side novels, there’s six books in Herbert’s “Dune” series, all of which are dense, lengthy reads. Villeneuve’s adaptation covers roughly half of book one, and spans one-hundred and fifty-five minutes. Encapsulating the character development and linear events that take place in a timely manner seemed undoable. Villeneuve doesn’t miss a step. Everything is in its right place, and chronologically, there’s very rarely a confusing moment, even for those who haven’t yet taken a crack at the original, written version. It’s made clear in the title sequence that this is “Dune: Part 1.” Hopefully this means Villeneuve will be tackling a number of film renditions of Herbert’s long, winding story.
The ensemble cast is both big and impressive. Three performances in particular shine in their roles: Rebecca Ferguson (Lady Jessica), Jason Momoa (Duncan Idaho), and Stellan Skarsgard (Baron Harkonnen). Ferguson’s role of Paul Atreides’ mother captures the second-to-most screen time behind Timothee Chalamet’s lead as Paul. She’s elegant and her costume design is stunning. Furthermore, her on-screen work with Chalamet brings us some of Dune’s greatest moments, even when there’s a door separating the two (her raw emotion in the famous “box” scene sees Ferguson burst through as a force to be reckoned with). Duncan Idaho is so perfect for Jason Momoa, it’s as if Herbert envisioned the action movie star when sculpting Paul’s combat buddy. He’s badass beyond measure as Idaho, and that’s really all that needs to be said. Baron Harkonnen — the primary antagonist — is perhaps the most visually terrifying villain in both theaters and on paper. His disturbing figure and hairless composition are amplified by his sudden stretching to a being that’s twice as tall as anyone else in the room.
The star of the show has no lines, nor is it human. The Shai-hulud, or Great Makers, or Arrakis sandworm's imminent arrival — which happens a handful of times — sits in the back of every audience member's psyche. These creatures are faceless and colossal, and since their senses are triggered by rhythm against the sand — in a movie covered in sand — you can’t help but sit giddy with anticipation for two and a half hours, hoping a couple grains of sand start shaking.
Denis Villeneuve’s take on “Dune” sets a new bar for sci-fi grandeur. One can’t even begin to describe its immeasurable size, and the SFX, setting design and attention to timing put any movie preceding it in the genre to shame. Wrap all of this up with a striking, aggressive triumph by composer Hans Zimmer, and you've got an unforgettable moment in cinema.
As far as large-scale, galactic films go, this is the new standard.
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