FILM REVIEW
‘Dune: Part One’ failed where it mattered most
Let’s hope the second leg of Denis Villeneuve’s sci-fi adaptation can change that
I am a big fan of Denis Villeneuve but an even bigger fan of Frank Herbert’s sci-fi epic Dune. When Warner Brothers and Legendary Pictures announced Villeneuve would be leading a return of the sci-fi epic to the big-screen, I thought it was a match made in heaven. When the trailer for part one debuted back in October 2020, I fell in love — both with the movie-to-be and the director who appeared to be bringing to life that which had only lived in my imagination.
Early reviews of Dune: Part One dubbed Villeneuve’s adaptation the next Star Wars or Lord of the Rings. Although the source material is on par with some of the greatest sagas of all time, I should have known it was too good to be true. The reality is that Dune: Part One will never join the ranks of film’s all-time greats. In fact, it doesn’t even come close to gracing their presence.
On the surface, Villeneuve was the perfect director to revive the Dune series. His recent work on sci-fi epics Arrival and Blade Runner 2049 made his selection a natural choice. The bigger-than-life world building, stunning set pieces, and compelling scores would be perfect for bringing the Dune universe to life.
However, one merely needs to look a little closer to realize Villeneuve’s shortcomings with Dune: Part One should have been anticipated. As movie critic, Alex Maidy wrote back in 2019, “Blade Runner 2049 certainly looks the part, but beyond the surface it is nothing more than a pale replicant of the real thing.” Replace the words Blade Runner 2049 with Dune: Part One and the truth of the prior sentence doesn’t change.
What distinguishes the Dune novels from Blade Runner and other science fiction epics is that the book’s narrative is uniquely human.
The lack of strong storytelling and character development in Blade Runner 2049 was excusable. The melancholy narrative reflects the withdrawn and introspective disposition of Ryan Gosling’s character and the somber mood of the film’s plot.
But what distinguishes the Dune novels from Blade Runner and other science fiction epics is that the book’s narrative is uniquely human. For a science fiction novel, Dune is far closer to the drama and realism of a Game of Thrones than the abstract intellectualism of 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Although Villeneuve is a long-time fan of the Dune books, having read them as a teenager, he seems to have forgotten what made Herbert’s original novel so magical. Despite the striking set pieces and tantalizing action sequences, Dune: Part One is all looks, no heart. I would give Villeneuve some grace, but for a story so enthralling it is revered as the greatest science fiction novel of all time, the shortcomings of Dune: Part One are simply inexcusable.
The most unfortunate consequence of Villeneuve’s weak character development and storytelling is that what should be the film’s biggest and most memorable moments fall flat. Let’s take for example the death of Duncan Idaho (Jason Mamoa) when he sacrifices his life to save Paul (Timothée Chalamet) and the Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson) as they escape into the vast Arrakian desert.
For those familiar with The Lord of the Rings, Duncan’s death parallels well with the death of Boromir. Like Duncan, Boromir dies admirably fighting off the Uruk-hai to buy time for Frodo’s endearing companions, Mary and Pippin, to escape. Both characters are formidable warriors who die at the hands of each film’s feared enemies. However, the similarities between the two on-screen deaths stop there, even though they shouldn’t.
In the case of Boromir, his death has gone down as one of the most memorable deaths in film history. What directors like Villeneuve do not seem to understand is that what makes Boromir’s death so memorable is not only the scene itself, but the moments and momentum that lead up to it. In The Lord of the Rings, Boromir has a clear and resonant character arc. As an audience, we know he is deeply loyal to his people and has a love and care for his fellow companions, most notably when he wrestles with Mary and Pippin after a training session in sword fighting goes awry. But we also know he is corruptible when we see him try to steal the ring from Frodo. That is why when the goodness we know was inside him prevails in the end we feel it on a deeply personal level because we can relate to him as flawed humans ourselves.
Instead of [Duncan Idaho’s] death being sad because he sacrifices his life to defend those who gave him hope at a time when he had nothing, it is sad because the audience knows there will be no more Jason Momoa eye-candy.
With Duncan Idaho on the other hand, the audience barely knows who he is. For those who did not read the Dune novel, no one would know his family was murdered by the cruel Harkonnens at a young age before escaping to Caladan where he found solace in the honorable stewardship of House Atreides. Finding a home with the Atreides caused him to develop an undying loyalty to the Duke and a willingness to go to any length to protect the Atreides lineage. But instead of giving us this information, Villeneuve forgoes any of the critical backstory that would endear the audience to such an important character. Consequently, instead of his death being sad because he sacrifices his life to defend those who gave him hope at a time when he had nothing, it is sad because the audience knows there will be no more Jason Momoa eye-candy.
Other deaths in the movie fall prey to the same fate. Despite Oscar Isaac’s valiant effort at playing the Duke Leto and growing that immaculate beard, I never felt emotionally invested in his character. What distinguishes the Duke from his counterparts is his charismatic and compassionate leadership style — lessons he was actively trying to impart on Paul. Most notably, when he takes over Arrakis (Dune), Leto drastically improves the lives of the people who had suffered for decades under Harkonnen rule and was actively moving the planet’s society in a positive direction.
The Duke was someone to root for; someone readers of the novel wanted to see succeed against the evil forces of House Harkonnen. Add in his love for the Lady Jessica — his concubine whom he never married due to political reasons — and the way Paul admired him and his death should have been one that was heavily mourned by viewers. But again, Villeneuve deprives the audience of what makes the Duke special and, in the process, robs us of another memorable moment.
The same is true for countless other characters in the film. Gurney Halleck (Josh Brolin) for instance is far from just a rugged battle veteran who trains Paul as a fighter. He was famous both for his mastery of the baliset — a nine-string musical instrument unique to the Dune universe — and his extensive knowledge of the Orange Catholic Bible — the holy text of the predominant religion in the novel. Gurney was so skilled as a musician, he would serve as the Duke’s entertainment at dinner parties, strumming the baliset and belting songs that would move his audiences to tears. In fact, Gurney is a more formidable and dynamic character than even the beloved Duncan Idaho. Duncan himself quips in the novel: “[Gurney] could be killing you while he was singing and never miss a note.”
The very human tone of Gurney’s songs would have been a welcome break from the ominous and overbearing theme of Hans Zimmer’s score while staying true to the lore of Dune — a lore far more Shakespearean than it is Orwellian.
Villeneuve’s Gurney, however, is devoid of such allure, and his reduction to nothing more than an emotionless hard-ass is another devastating loss for the film. Imagine a scene where Gurney performs one of his iconic songs on the baliset to set the tone the night before they embark to the treacherous Arrakis. Or what a scene it could have been if Gurney was belting one of his moving battle odes while the audience watches Duncan Idaho and the other Atreides soldiers fall to the Sardaukar. If anything, the very human tone of Gurney’s songs would have been a welcome break from the ominous and overbearing theme of Hans Zimmer’s score while staying true to the lore of Dune — a lore far more Shakespearean than it is Orwellian.
Last but not least, Dr. Liet Kynes (Sharon Duncan-Brewster) was another who was grossly mismanaged not because he was recast as a black woman rather than an old, white man but because the details of the character’s life that are important to the plot are completely omitted. Most importantly, Dr. Kynes was the secret leader of the Fremen and had set in motion a visionary plan for reshaping the ecology of Arrakis from a desert planet to one teeming with vegetation and precipitation.
When Dr. Kynes dies in the book, he does so wandering the desert after being abandoned by the Harkonnens without water or a stillsuit. As Dr. Kynes slowly becomes more delirious as he perishes under the sun, he has profound reflections on the ecology of Dune and the realization that through his cohabitation with the Fremen he has become what he refers to as a “desert creature.” He is ultimately killed by a massive spice blow leading to one of the most memorable lines in the novel: “Then, as his planet killed him…” His planet — the one he had tended to and cared for his entire life. Yet in the movie, Dr. Kynes is uneventfully stabbed in the back by Sardaukar soldiers and rolled lifelessly down a sandhill.
That is not all that makes Dr. Kynes’ character so important. People who haven’t read the novel are generally shocked to learn that Dr. Kynes is in fact the father (or rather mother) of Chani (you know, the beautiful girl in Paul’s many repetitive visions played by the mesmerizing Zendaya). Without knowing Chani is the daughter of Dr. Kynes, she might as well be some random Fremen girl. But of course, Villeneuve irresponsibly casts this key fact aside, both diminishing the importance of Dr. Kynes and scuffing a perfect opportunity for invaluable backstory on Chani who will take on more of a lead role in the second film.
This could go on forever from the lack of screen time for fan favorites Dr. Yueh (Chang Chen) and Thufir Hawat (Stephen McKinley Henderson) to the omission of the traitor subplot involving the Lady Jessica and the scant explanation on her significance as a powerful Bene Gesserit witch. Not to mention the fact that the story’s most imposing antagonist, the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen (Stellan Skarsgård) who is known for his extensive scheming only has a dozen odd lines throughout the entire film.
The rebirth of Dune two years ago seemed to be coming at the perfect time when the industry is currently investing in universes à la Marvel and Star Wars that can churn out content that keeps audiences coming back for more. Dune was uniquely positioned to serve as the next big universe not because of its expansive worlds, rich plot, or its six novels spanning thousands of years, but rather, it’s the book’s lovable characters who were supposed to win over a whole new generation of fans to the epic sci-fi saga.
As editor Kristen Overman writes, “The plot and action entertain us, but how the characters react to that action, how they make their decisions, and most importantly, how they feel about what happens is what sticks with us long after we’ve closed a book.” That is exactly what made Herbert’s novel so memorable. But unfortunately for us, Villeneuve’s adaptation to the big screen doesn’t give us a reason to care.
Let’s hope Dune: Part Two can succeed where its predecessor failed and give us the story Herbert’s sci-fi epic deserves.
