Dune (2021)

“Villeneuve’s Dune comes off more regressive than Herbert’s novel from sixty years ago.”

Title: Dune (2021)
Director: Denis Villeneuve 👨🏼🇨🇦
Writers: Screenplay by Jon Spaights 👨🏼🇺🇸, Denis Villeneuve 👨🏼🇨🇦, and Eric Roth 👨🏼🇺🇸 based on the book by Frank Herbert 👨🏼🇺🇸

Reviewed by Elaine 👩🏻🇺🇸

—SPOILERS AHEAD—

Technical: 2.75/5

Frank Herbert’s novel Dune from 1965 has long been considered unfilmable, although director Denis Villeneuve seems the natural choice given the grandeur and technical finesse of his films Blade Runner 2049 (2017) and Arrival (2016). Both proved themselves to be the best kinds of sci-fi stories, ones that remind us of what it means to be human. Unfortunately, Villeneuve’s vision for Dune falls short in that regard.

Dune centers around House Atreides, which has been assigned to govern the desert planet Arrakis by the Emperor. The amount of exposition often required for sci-fi can be disorienting, and Villeneuve tends to “tell” rather than “show” here, which grows tiresome across the film’s runtime of more than two and a half hours. In a newly written scene, Duke Leto Atreides (Oscar Isaac) explains political machinations and his feelings for his son Paul (Timothée Chalamet), even though the actors are skilled enough to convey depth of feeling with a single shared glance. When the Atreides family first arrives on Arrakis, a character informs us that temperatures can reach up to 140 degrees, but something as simple as seeing someone flinch back from burning sands would have been more effective. Instead, we see Paul strolling around outside to have a chat about date palms.

Not only is this narrative hand-holding cumbersome, it bogs down the pacing. Rather than a fifth prophetic vision of Chani (Zendaya), that wasted time could have gone to better developing characters. So much of Dune’s story is in their inner worlds, with their subtle maneuvering of each other. However, Villeneuve strips down key scenes from the novel, distilling Dune into a grittier Star Wars. He implies that Paul’s arc is a hero’s journey, complete with almost magic-like abilities, rather than a set of intellectual and diplomatic skills honed by years of training. When Paul flies a thopter and dramatically lets go of the controls—a scene you won’t find in Herbert’s Dune—the move parallels Luke’s when he embraces the Force to destroy the Death Star.

Dune’s failure is especially disappointing because greatness hovers just outside of its reach. Awe-inspiring thopters and spaceships add to the film’s fantastic worldbuilding, as does the visual drama that thrives in bombastic scenes such as when House Atreides falls to enemy forces. But Dune is meant to live in the cerebral, intimate moments rather than merely be set pieces for duels, battles, and scenes of shimmering sand. Hans Zimmer’s score is similarly so grand it announces itself, distracting more than supporting the story. Conversely, the cinematography could do more. Director of photography Greig Fraser, in his first collaboration with Villeneuve, washes out the colors, making for bland grays and desert landscapes that are too neutral or tinted too monochromatically yellow. You can’t help but wonder what this would have looked like in Roger Deakins’ hands, after his spectacular, haunting desert visuals from Blade Runner 2049.

You also can’t help but wonder if Villeneuve played it safe with Dune, after calling attention to the financial failure of Blade Runner 2049. Dune might be more commercially viable, with all of its explanatory spoon-feeding and extra explosions, but it makes for far less compelling cinema.

Gender: 3.5/5
Does it pass the Bechdel Test? NOPE

Rebecca Ferguson is simply phenomenal as Lady Jessica, Paul’s mother and Duke Leto’s consort. Her face conveys the complexity of her inner world, so it’s a shame her character isn’t given more to do in the film. Although fully capable with her own set of abilities, she mostly stands witness to or as a support for her son’s messianic rise. She has created him and who he will become in more ways than one, but ultimately, she’s helpless to direct (or stop) it. She also interacts very little with other women, other than to argue with the Reverend Mother Mohiam (Charlotte Rampling) about how she bore a son instead of a daughter, or when hiring a housekeeper in Arrakis. Because the film cuts out most of the political intrigue of the novel, we get much less of Jessica’s cleverness or explanation of her Bene Gesserit heritage, although more on that later.

Sharon Duncan-Brewster is welcome as Dr. Liet Kynes, gender-bent from the novel. Kynes stands as a part of two worlds, a bridge between cultures. Although she represents such an interesting conflict in the novel as a half-Fremen who has “gone native,” that’s barely hinted at in the film. Like most of Villeneuve’s characters, it’s hard to get a handle on her as a person, although she appears to have more agency than Jessica.

Zendaya’s Chani hints at interiority, but isn’t given much to do other than pose in Paul’s prophetic visions, evoking a perfume ad or a scene out of a Malick montage. While it’s true that she barely appears in the book during this first section, it remains disappointing, given that Chani could also offer depth to the plight and lives of the Fremen desert people of Arrakis. She does so minimally at the beginning before disappearing for most of the film.

Race: 3/5

Although Villeneuve has long defended Dune from the criticism that it perpetuates the White Savior trope, his directing choices speak louder than words. Yes, people of color have been cast in several roles—including those in Duke Leto’s immediate employ—but the foot soldiers of House Atreides seem to be almost entirely white, as are the film’s saviors of Paul and Lady Jessica. Nothing in the book would indicate this, and it would be easy to diversify, so how is this not a textbook example of white saviorism? Furthermore, given that Herbert was influenced by the Indigenous people of the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) when writing the Fremen, it’s baffling that he excludes MENA actors from its ranks. Instead, Javier Bardem, a Spanish actor, portrays one of the only speaking Fremen roles.

In addition to questionable casting, Villeneuve flattens the existing depth of the novel which heavily features overt Muslim references. Not often does source material from the 1960s feel more progressive than its modern adaptation, but Villeneuve’s Dune proves it can happen. Writer Roxana Hadadi points out how Herbert’s “meticulously researched and vividly imagined depictions of MENA people” fail to make it to the screen, and also missing is the way Herbert castigates Paul’s role as a messiah and critiques how the “Western Man” inflicts himself upon the environment. The Fremen were originally written to be a technologically and socially sophisticated society, whereas Villeneuve’s Fremen are closer to what we might see in Lawrence of Arabia (1962), complete with ululating women and inconsistent accents.

I would argue that Paul’s rise in the books is only possible because of the Bene Gesserit indoctrination, which has manipulated the religion of the Fremen for generations to prepare the way for their own Chosen One. However, Villeneuve lessens the impact of the Bene Gesserit’s influence in the film, and it’s unclear that they have had a hand in paving the way for Paul. This not only takes away the strength of the Bene Gesserit, which is a powerful all-women organization that deserves more screen time, but also paints the Fremen as more easily manipulated by a messianic figure.

Perhaps most galling to watch is the way the film’s characters of color lack complexity and sacrifice themselves so that white heroes can live. In the “turning point” of the novel, Kynes dies from an explosion of sand and spice in the desert, just as he realizes that “No more terrible disaster could befall your people than for them to fall into the hands of a Hero.” However, in a complete 180-degree turn, Kynes willingly gives her life so that “the Hero”—Paul—can go free.

Duncan Idaho (Jason Momoa)’s death is similarly tweaked. Whereas Herbert had written the character to be already injured, Paul closing the door behind them while Idaho fights on, Villeneuve’s version sees Idaho shutting the door himself as Paul, absolved of any guilt, sobs on the other side. Finally, Doctor Yueh (Chang Chen)’s part has been so reduced, he’s barely in the movie at all. In the novel, he’s a nuanced tragic figure with a detailed history and meaningful relationships with the Atreides family, which makes his betrayal all the more impactful. In the film, no one appears to bat an eye when he brings the house down.

Deduction for Body Diversity: -0.25

Baron Vladimir Harkonnen (Stellan Skarsgård) falls into the trope of being an imposingly large and fat villain. Some inoffensive techniques are used to highlight his grotesqueness, such as a squelching mud bath or his gleeful bloodthirst. But the film wanders into fatphobia in other moments, inciting disgust in the viewer by showing Harkonnen eating a lavish meal (complete with chewing noises) or when the camera lingers on his neck rolls and protruding stomach. Meanwhile, every other character in Dune is either fighting fit or thin as a rail.

Mediaversity Grade: C 3.00/5

Film adaptations of beloved books ask two questions: Does it succeed as a faithful translation of the story to screen, and does it succeed as a film on its own? Unfortunately, Villeneuve’s film does neither for me. Given his artistic and narrative choices, it comes off altogether more regressive than Herbert’s novel from sixty years ago, lacking the nuance and social commentary that could have been elevated by a modern and visual discourse.

Like Dune? Try these other titles featuring Timothée Chalamet or Zendaya.

Grade: CLiNovember 2, 2021