REVIEW: DUNE

 

It's the dearest hope of many a book lover to see their favorite novel adapted onto the big screen with heavy detail, and this appears to be the mindset by which director Denis Villeneuve adapted Frank Herbert's book, Dune. The end result is a film that is somehow stuffed with detail yet lacking in identity. 

The movie favors the initiated viewer, one already familiar with the book. This is bad luck for those unfamiliar with the faith. The film is not merciful to those who cannot keep up with the extensive worldbuilding. The film's action and adventure scenes leak in toward the back half of the film, so much of the movie is carried by politics and world mechanics that the film never satisfactorily explains. (It can't be because the movie was in a rush.) I'm grateful the characters were courteous enough to not speak in exposition, but I was also annoyed that everyone seemed to know more about what was going on than I did. 

Various plot elements pop into the story like fireworks and disappear just as quickly. What did Paul's mind control voice that he's been working so hard on have to do with anything? Entire characters--top-billed characters, mind you--disappear for nearly an hour before finding their way back into the plot. Maybe the movie's issue is less one of not having time to explain everything and more one of trying to chew on more than the giant sandworms of the desert. (Incidentally, the sandworms were kind of fun.)

I wonder if the novel is similarly meandering with its thematic dialogue. At first the movie sets itself up like a tale of exploitation of the natural world in the vein of Avatar. Then that tension disappears while our main character's parents start having domestic troubles. And all the while Timothee Chalamet is having mysterious dreams about Zendaya. Surely that will see some grand payoff in the film's final minutes, right? Then suddenly you're halfway through the movie and realize that nothing has actually happened.

This straining runtime and unknowable worldbuilding is aggravated by the film's lack of visual variance. Zendaya's blue eyes are the only things that interrupt the film's endless span of gray, black, and dirt. I respect the commitment to a heavy, brooding tone for a blockbuster film, but even Lord of the Rings let us play around in the lush and merry Shire for a spell before throwing us to the battlefront. 

In the same fashion, the performances are one-note from start to finish. One-note, not necessarily weak. The actors seem to be throwing everything they have into their performances, but much like the lovingly rendered desert landscape starts to feel monotonous, even Timothee Chalamet's game face loses its charm.

I'm sure many fans of Herbert's novel will be thrilled with this thorough reconstruction. But an adaptation should also aspire to draw in new viewers into reading the book it's born from. For this viewer, this was not a great first exposure.

--The Professor