When adapting Frank Herbert’s 1965 novel Dune into a film, directors must make a choice: embrace the strange, or filter the source material into a coherent narrative. David Lynch chose to go with the first, gorging himself on the ambiguous and abnormal aspects of the source material in his 1984 adaptation — which resulted in one of the most spectacular bombs in Hollywood history. Naturally, Denis Villeneuve chose the latter.
This choice is clear from the moment Dune begins. As the film starts to roll, a voiceover explains the commodity “spice”, the universe’s unique political makeup, and House Atreides’ impending journey to take control of Arrakis, explanations that are absent from former renditions of the novel. This decision to steer Dune towards being a more conventional sci-fi tale makes it easier to consume (than both Herbert’s novel and Lynch’s film), and a great platform for Villeneuve to show off grand visual effects, but ultimately strips some of the fantastical elements and character layers that flourished in the source material.
To be clear, I don’t think this makes Dune a bad film. Reading Dune can feel like you accidentally fell into one of Frank Herbert’s dreams, a place where explanations are limited and confusion is an abundant commodity. So when morphing the book into a visual medium, it's logical to shed certain aspects and cling to the central plot, lest you accidentally end up with a Star Trek episode on a bad acid trip, like Lynch’s adaptation.
However, the benefit to the book’s ambiguous complexity is that Paul, Chani, and Jessica, among other characters, are layered to the point where almost any interpretation of their morality and internal motivations are valid. In Villeneuve’s adaptation, many of the characters are more clear-cut, especially Paul, who fits more easily into the classic hero’s journey than the book’s version.
This hero’s journey starts on Caladan, the home planet of House Atreides. We are introduced to major characters like Paul Atreides, his father Duke Atreides, his mother Lady Jessica, and warriors Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck. More importantly, as previously stated, Villeneuve clearly explains the Atreides' position in the political atmosphere. The emperor has ordered the Atreides to take control of Arrakis, a desert planet home to the most important commodity in the universe: spice. They are inheriting the planet from the brutal House Harkonnen, which the Duke believes may be a trap intended to destroy his house.
Villeneuve also uses this initial setup to introduce us to one of the best aspects of the film — the way that Paul is framed as a hero of myth or legend. Using dramatic dream sequences and a grandiose soundtrack, Villeneuve gives a subtle yet powerful supernatural aspect to Paul’s character. As he experiences dreams and flashes of the future the film is flooded with a sense of mystery and destiny, like that of a Greek myth. The crafty use of hazy, sand-blown shots and clips of Paul’s dreamscape masterfully lends to a foreboding feeling of Paul’s predetermined yet ambiguous destiny. As anyone who has been looking forward to Dune will know, this is just the tip of the visual splendor iceberg.
If Villeneuve is married to the plot of Dune, then the captivating special effects and grandiose landscapes are his mistresses, and no matter how much he wants to stay faithful to the former, he can’t help but turn an obsessive eye towards the latter. It’s clear that Villeneuve is showing off. While this might feel self-indulgent in other films, the visual component of Dune is so spectacular that his prolonged shots of explosions, world-specific sci-fi tech, monstrous worms, and golden desert landscapes don’t feel forced for a second. The majority of hype for Dune was centered around the expectations of stupendous cinematography and visuals, and it delivered an incomprehensible abundance of both.
The costumes and visual backdrops for each of the film’s three main groups, House Atreides, House Harkonnen, and the Fremen (Arrakis’s indigenous population) are also perfectly crafted to emphasize their defining qualities. I personally derived the most pleasure from the depiction of the Harkonnens. Deathly pale, clothed in black, and staged in austere yet grimy dark rooms, Stellan Skarsgård’s Baron Vladimir Harkonnen and Dave Bautista’s Rabbon Harkonnen embody the soul of the source material they are pulled from. In any frame where the Baron’s massive robed figure ominously floats over the scene, a vile aura exudes from the screen that makes Dune feel more like horror than sci-fi.
Bautista and Skarsgård’s perfect castings weren’t the exception, but rather the rule. Chalamet as Paul, Jason Mamoa as Duncan Idaho, Oscar Isaac as the Duke, Zendaya as Chani, Josh Brolin as Gurney, and Rebecca Ferguson as Lady Jessica all seemed perfectly fit for their character’s needs. Although at times the characters felt flat or shallow depictions of the source material, this fell on the writing rather than the performances.
My biggest gripe with the movie was where it ended — which is impressive for a film that lasted 155 minutes. It makes sense to split an 800-page book into two parts, but the spot Villeneuve chose for the break lacked climactic tension. However, that doesn't change the fact that Denis Villeneuve has done the impossible - take the insurmountable source material of Dune and translate it into a gorgeous and captivating visual pleasure. I think it's enough to say that when Part 2 releases, I'll be there opening night.
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