The Spice is Right

When you think of sci-fi what usually comes to mind? Typically: MOVIES IN SPAAAAAACE. And right you are. Sci-fi movies usually feature space just like action movies usually feature bullets. But not always. Let’s break it down. Science + fiction = sci-fi. Even if space isn’t the primary setting, a film can still be labeled sci-fi if it has a touch of science and is mostly fiction. It could take place in the future, use advanced tech, or be a love story between two highly evolved insects; that’s all still sci-fi. A sci-fi can be set in the desert, on a single planet, where indigenous people keep the white folks alive, and with no starships in sight. There are endless possibilities to the genre. That said, Dune does actually begin in space.

Well, slightly in space. Space is the journey, not the destination. I reviewed the original 1984 Dune about a year ago and, I can say with confidence, the remake is such an improvement that this time I understood nearly 40% of the plot. That’s a massive upgrade. So, in plain language, here’s what’s up with Dune (*cracks knuckles*).

There’s a planet called Arrakis. The native population, known as the Fremen, would love for a big, wealthy family to show up and help them mine for water – a hot commodity on their desert planet. But no. The wealthy families, led by the emperor, discover something in the desert sand called “the spice” which extends life, powers spaceships, and causes wicked hallucinations. The universe goes bananas for it. The last family to mine for spice, the Harkonnens, have just packed up and left, so the emperor sends in Duke Leto (Oscar Isaac) of House Atreides to take over. The Harkonnens, led by Baron Vladimir (Stellan Skarsgard), are a sketchy and ugly lot so we ask few questions when they retreat to their dank, icky, rain planet. So anyway, Leto and his family, Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson) and Paul (Timothée Chalamet), relocate to Arrakis and set up house. There are some tensions with the local Fremen but in general Duke Leto makes respect his top priority. The story leaves room for personal growth, building relationships, and fortunes won or lost in this foreign trade, but before any of that can happen, someone fumbles a grenade in the most unexpected way.

While Leto and the Atreides are setting up camp, our main character, Paul, is having recurring dreams about girls. Very special dreams. He may just be a typical teenager, but in Dune we call this a psychic awakening. As the son of the Duke, Paul was raised to carry certain responsibilities, but he never imagined that his greatest burden would come from his mother’s side. Paul inherits telepathic, dream-reading abilities that allow him to envision the future. Specifically, a girl on Arrakis. Paul feels called to the desert planet and, what’s even weirder, the people there have started to answer. Unlike the 1984 Dune which screwed up this plotline in every possible way, I was more invested in Timothée Chalamet’s performance than any of the others. We figure things out at the same time as Paul and every flash becomes a clue. Pieces still don’t quite fit together in the end, but at least by then we’re hooked on the questions and crave more answers.

Dune (2021) does two things spectacularly well. First are the performances. The cast is essentially a conga line at an Oscar after party so I would have been disappointed with anything less than amazing. Josh Brolin, Javier Bardem, Jason Momoa, Zendaya, Dave Bautista – every scene is a chorus of, “Hey I know them!” From Skarsgard giving military advice while dripping ooze onto his fat suit, to Jason Mamoa playing the brofriend we all dream of bear-hugging on the battlefield, every cast member pulls their full weight. Each character is unique and rich with personality. They’re easy to love, hate, or instantly distrust. Thanks to the exorbitant wardrobe, characters will walk on set in a whirlwind of ridiculous capes and silly hats to deliver their lines and then, suddenly, we’re terrified, in awe, or a little in love. That’s acting.

The second thing that Dune does well is everything we see. It’s just plain interesting. Dune shows us a wide, dusty, hostile world that will eat us if we step out of bounds, and yet, it’s oddly beautiful. The sun is an enemy, the rain protects the villains, the darkness can be a shelter for our heroes or their attackers. Dune is full of visual contradictions between light and space. Despite the desert, Denis Villeneuve brings the same murky atmosphere to Dune that he brought to Arrival, mixing in dizzying dream flashes that sometimes feel more real than our characters’ reality. The special effects – of which there are many – are seamless. If you told me that real dragonfly ships were invented, built, and flown for the making of Dune, I would believe you without question.

Dune is interesting to watch and a smart puzzle to unravel, but there are still a few lumps. Some books may just be too dense for the big screen and I’m becoming convinced that Dune is one of them. Villeneuve and crew put a mighty impressive effort into ironing out this layered, name-heavy plot, but I still missed some important details. While I respect heavy movies that give our characters enough space to pause and breathe, there are several moments of staring off into the distance that could have been clipped in respect of the 2.5h runtime. Plus, the soundtrack is… well, if I put a cat in an echo chamber with an electric drum set and then turned the amp on high, we might be able to replicate results. Dune is a cinematic epic that absolutely makes up for the original 1984 dumpster fire. As dizzying as the plot may be, I’m still invested in seeing more. Dune is a big-screen must at 6/10.

“Fear is the mind-killer.”