| Director(s) | Denis Villeneuve |
| Principal Cast | Timothée Chalamet as Paul Atreides Rebecca Ferguson as Lady Jessica Oscar Isaac as Duke Leto Atreides Stellan Skarsgård as Baron Vladimir Harkonnen Zendaya as Chani Javier Bardem as Stilgar Jason Momoa as Duncan Idaho Josh Brolin as Gurney Halleck |
| Release Date | 2021 |
| Language(s) | English |
| Running Time | minutes |
| Report Card | Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary |
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
A deep boisterous rumble emanates from a dark abyss; subtitled translations appear and clarify this guttural noise is a message from something somewhere: “Dreams are messages from the deep.” The text disappears and the production logos pop onto the screen. Like Dario Argento’s iconic Deep Red, director Denis Villeneuve challenges the boundaries of the non-diegetic title sequence and transforms the film from being just a piece of media to a “message from the deep.” The introduction prefaces the production elements of the film, not the other way around. Thus, from its start, Dune starts off as a dream; the story to follow is nothing more than vision from an unconscious that the audience experiences. Far from being passive observers of a story, we’re part and parcel of the experience that grants that story coherence.
Once the production logos fade away, the story picks up again with a new narrator, Chani (Zendaya), who speaks to us in a language we can understand. She explains that her people, the Fremen, the indigenous population of the desert planet Arrakis, are forced to deal with the constant plundering and sacking of their home world by outsiders who seek to harvest “spice”, a drug which serves as the most valuable commodity in the galaxy, both providing health benefits on top of being the catalyst for any and all intergalactic travel. We see Chani and her fellow Fremen position in the sands, blow up one of a spice harvesting machine, and escape from the scene of the explosion. She whispers the name “Paul,” and the vision fades away as our story’s protagonist, Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet), wakes up. Far from talking to presumably the audience like the previous entity, Chani seems to be speaking to Paul through his dreams. But how?
The two dreams layered on top of one another suggests either that Paul also saw the first dream as a precursor to second, or that the audience is privy to an even more encompassing vision that exceeds even Paul’s. Ambiguities in the dream qua messages in regards to their senders, receivers, and method of transmission give the film an opacity which places the audience firmly on the side of the story’s hero. Like Paul, we see visions but are unaware what they fully mean. If messages are meant to inform their recipients, then the story raises the question on what exactly dreams are meant to tell us.
Following the unconscious encounter, Paul makes his way towards the dining room to eat breakfast with his mother, Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson). Immediately, she asks about his dreams. It becomes apparent these visions from Chani, or more accurately the beyond that may or may not be Chani, are recurring and important enough to prompt dialogue. He responds coolly, mentioning that he had them, before then asking his mother to pass over a cup of water. She refuses and instead tells him to use “the Voice” to force her compliance. Unable to refuse, Paul commands his mother to hand him the cup.
But his voice transforms as he utters the demand, going from soft and quiet to amplified and menacing, masculine to feminine. All other sounds fade out and his words takes center stage, booming out in such fashion that a jolt in response would be appropriate. Jessica’s eyes flitter for a moment and the impact of Paul’s words continue to ring through the room. Suddenly, her hand moves a cup of water towards Paul before her eyes come back into focus and her agency returns. No explanation is given for the power or its place, but its presence informs the audience that Paul and his family are far from normal.
As if to confirm the Atreides position, Jessica promptly informs Paul he needs to change for an Imperial Procession, as his father, Duke Leto Atreides (Oscar Isaac) is to take control of Arrakis from House Harkonnen as the Emperor’s new fief ruler. Arrakis, Chani’s home world and the place of Paul’s dreams, thus becomes his new destination as his family, the Atreides, is tasked with overseeing spice production on the planet. Dreams and reality converge as Paul goes to confront his destiny.
This is Denis Villenevue’s Dune, a multi-textured cinematic dream machine that takes the task of translating author Frank Herbert’s science-fiction magnum opus to task, successfully re-creating the metaphysical visions and grandiose politicking of the books in the most spectacular fashion. If the opening few moments serve as any indication, it’s to pay close attention as even the minute characteristics have the capacity to radically alter the context by which events are evaluated. Everything seems to be connected, like pieces in a puzzle, but the shape of the image being constructed is up to the viewer.
Details invade every single frame. For example, a story of a bull told by Leto to Paul before they depart to Arrakis seems trivial at first glance, but the head of said bull makes a constant set of appearances through the film, representing the stature of the Atreides family based on its framing in the room. Thus, a simple verbal mention transforms into a powerful visual motif that remains hidden in plain sight.
Likewise, the soundscape employs heavy use of leitmotifs. Composer Hans Zimmer creates unique musical cues in relation to all the major players- the Atreides, the Harkonnens, the Fremen, the Bene Gesserit, and so on – vying for control of Arrakis and its associated treasures and employs them to convey the constantly shifting power struggles. A scene which starts with the more soothing Atreides theme indicates who’s really in charge once the sound fades out in favor of the whispery, choral theme of the Bene Gesserit. In this sense, the score acts in lieu of traditional voiceovers, giving the film an sense of direction without out-right spelling it out.
By littering the narrative, mise en scène, and soundscape in such fashion, Dune is able to fully immerse the viewer into an ethereal, dream-like experience. Every moment has so much waiting to be interpellated in relation to everything else, that one can’t help get lost in the film’s milieu. This truly feels like the culmination of Villenevue’s career up to now. Just like his previous large-scale science-fiction masterpiece, Blade Runner 2049, Villenevue fills every frame with such visual splendor that it becomes hard to not gawk at the screen (especially in IMAX). But with Dune, he puts more faith in the audience to piece together what’s happening without as many overt hints, stringing together surreal and “conventional” in fashion more similar to his cerebral thriller Enemy. That’s not to say there’s no exposition, but said exposition pales in comparison to the amount of subtle world-building done around it, providing just enough to the viewer to help them latch onto and make sense of what else is happening. The end result is a film that grabs full hold of the viewer’s attention, leading them along a path without ever spoiling where the subsequent journey will fully lead.
If there is a problem with Dune, it’s that it ends too soon. Two and a half hours pass by as the slow, cerebral, burn of the film takes hold of the viewers mind. By the time the run-time comes to an end, one is left fully ensnared and is left wanting more, as the spice-fueled dream machine truly feels like its transported the viewer elsewhere.
REPORT CARD
| TLDR | Dune is the science-fiction film of a century and is an experience that demands to be seen on the big screen. Villenevue expertly combines epic scale with characters worth investing in, juggling between larger macro-political struggles with intensive internal character struggles. By the time the film ends, viewers will only be left wanting more. If possible, this is an experience that needs to be experience in a thematical setting, preferably in IMAX, because it so wonderfully demonstrates the transformative power cinema contains. |
| Rating | 10/10 |
| Grade | S |
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