Don't Like - Dune Part 2
Spoilers ahead! Also I wrote more than paragraph and this post will cut off in your email, so please read on the Substack's web page.
I saw Dune Part 2 this past Sunday and overall, I’d say it’s a fun and entertaining watch. It’s a long epic movie that covers a huge and complex universe without feeling like it drags. It has messianic heroes, big set pieces, a love story, the legacy of colonial politics, the current chaos of inter-Imperium politics, gigantic planetary worms, a looming holy war, and so, so, so much more. I’ve never read Dune but it’s widely known as a book that would be really hard to make into a movie. I’ve never seen David Lynch’s Dune, though I hear it’s weirder, hornier, and much less polished than Denis Villeneuve’s series. I’ve also heard from friends who are Dune fans that Villeneuve is doing a great job with the source material and that the movie is incredible.
However, I’m not really interested in what is or isn’t brought over from the book. I don’t believe that movies based on books should be one-for-one adaptations—The Shining and One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest are proof of that. Plus, that’s a miserable way to watch something anyway. Like yes, root for the characters and things you like about the book to appear in the movie, but also appreciate the fact that movies are good in ways that books aren’t (and vice versa). It’s not fair to expect the same things from different mediums. So again, as I said, I haven’t read Dune, so that doesn’t factor into my opinion of the film. The main problem that I have with Dune Part 2 (and part one for that matter) is that there isn’t anything at the heart of it. The messianic fire that’s supposed to be raging beneath the surface of the film doesn’t come through and neither do many other elements. That doesn’t mean the movie is bad per se but, because it wants to be taken seriously, this my response.1
The first thing you’ll hear about Dune Part 2, aside from the AMC Popcorn bucket, is that it’s beautiful. And in a sense, it is. Dune is beautiful cinema insofar as the images are finely crafted, whether the camera is pointed at the vast desert landscape, alien ships landing, worms exploding out of the surface, the inside of a womb, a hallowed place of worship, or from the wing of an ornithopter in one of its many battle sequences. Everything looks amazing from a hyper-symmetric, overtly composed aesthetic lens. The images in Dune are meant to evoke awe more than anything else. To that end, Dune Part 2 is a work of extreme proficiency.2 To pull off what it does in the way that it does is no small feat. The scale of the world building in Dune Part 1 & 2 is enormous. If we understand the role of the director as the realizer (borrowing from the French realisateur), then Villeneuve has realized a tremendous vision with stunning fidelity. It’s clear from watching the movie that he obsessed over every frame and considered every element of the set and costume design, as well as the lighting, framing, and blocking in the scenes.3 However, the attention paid to dressing of the film is not paid towards other major elements such as the characters and plot. This isn’t surprising consider Denis Villeneuve is a director who famously said, “I hate dialogue.”4
The second thing you’ll hear about Dune Part 2 is that you should see it in the biggest and loudest environment you can. The reason for that is obvious. It’s a huge movie and it wants to make its impact felt. So seeing it in IMAX is probably the right move, if your ears can take it. If you don’t like thundering noises, you should see it in a regular theater which will already be plenty loud. Sound is a key bludgeon for the film. Certain characters, with lineage from the Bene Gesserit, speak in a harsh punctuated tone to assert power over other characters with speech that is enhanced in post for extra oomph. The effect works well as a sonic cudgel, though it isn’t an isolated tool in Villeneuve’s arsenal. He makes frequent use of rumbling bass to ensure you understand that epicness is happening. In this way, Dune Part Two is another movie that graduated from the Hans Zimmer and Christopher Nolan School of On-Screen Emotion.5 It isn’t surprising that Denis Villeneuve uses sound in such overt ways; he did the same in Blade Runner 2049 and Arrival.
Those were the two most redeeming elements that I took away from the film. The rest of the movie was strangely, and maybe even ironically, lacking. Dune Part 2 is long, which proves to be a blessing and a curse because it allows Villeneuve to fill the screen with grand images but he far too often flies by the substance of the plot. There’s a deep and rich film here but that would require Villeneuve to investigate the interior struggles of his characters, which largely doesn’t do. For instance, early in the film Paul Atreides is sent on a desert quest to prove he is truly worthy of belonging with the Fremen.6 This is an obvious moment for the character to find out what he’s made of but we don’t get to watch Paul Atreides’ discover himself. Instead, he walks for a little and then Chani, played by Zendaya, makes fun of him for the way he sand walks, then they sit on a sand dune and make out like 20-something actors playing high schoolers. It’s an odd choice but the movie is full of them. There’s a key moment later on in the movie where Paul drinks “the water of life” in order to fulfill the prophecy and become the Lisan al Gaib. This is supposed to be a massive moment, a Dune historical first where Paul has to become to first man to survive drinking “the water of life.” Instead of being something monumental, Paul slips into a coma, the poison mixes with his blood, he sees some vague things, and then Chani comes to wake him with her tears—which isn’t explained and instead just kind of happens. Meanwhile, this is supposed to be the moment he becomes one with knowledge and prescience. Why not delve into that? What gives?
To be clear, I’m not asking or hoping that Villeneuve would have included highly detailed explanations throughout the movie, but a little something would have been nice. But the movie gives nothing, which often makes it feel like the story is resting on the fact that it’s based on a book, which already has a story. The logic here is twofold. First, because the story is already based on something, Villenueve doesn’t need to spend any more time than he wants explaining things to the uninitiated. Second, because the story is already based on something, viewers can go learn more on their own if they so choose. For Villeneuve, that means success is getting enough of this story on the screen to hit his storytelling beats. That’s unfortunate because there’s a very interesting, albeit difficult, story to tell here. This fault is particularly evident in the lack of interest that is paid to the overarching imperial politics that have gotten us into this sandy mess in the first place. The first Dune does a lot of political table setting but Dune Part 2 isn’t as interested in them. There’s some back and forth, sure, but surprisingly little time is given to the decision-making that is meant to retain control of the imperium, whether that be the material and political calculations involved or the emotional elements of that decision-making. The stakes of this movie should feel more involved than playing a game of Risk on the computer.
The biggest problem with Dune Part 2 is that it’s a deeply unemotional film. The lack of emotion is most felt in the dull romance between Paul and Chani, as well as Paul’s journey to becoming the Lisan al Gaib. On the first count, Villeneuve gives short shrift to the love between his two leading characters. Chani is the girl Paul saw in his visions in Dune Part 1 and who gave him the blade he used to kill Jamis and earn the Fremen’s respect. It’s unclear when exactly Dune Part 2 begins and there is no recap of where they are in their relationship, but from the start it’s clear they have a bond. However, the strength of their bond is questioned as Chani chides Paul for being a fake messiah at points and professes the belief that the Fremen only need themselves to be liberated. But shortly thereafter, the two of them are out on a dune sucking air out of each other’s lungs. Then, as the plot progresses, their story gets lost.7
Consequently, some of the more impactful moments between them ring hollow instead of connecting with something deeper. Going back to when Chani brings Paul back from the brink of death caused by “the water of life,” she rushes over to his side and saves him without even contemplating whether or not it’s a good idea. While it could be said that she obviously loves him and so she has to save him, it’s also made clear that she doesn’t love or, even believe in, the idea of him as the messiah. And yet, she isn’t given the space to explore her feelings for Paul and once she saves him, everything quickly moves on from there. This also happens at the climax of the film wherein Paul ditches Chani for the emperor’s daughter Irulan, played by Florence Pugh. The political reasons for leaving a random Fremen woman for the emperor's daughter makes sense, but the movie doesn’t want to deal with the weight of that decision and the emotional connection they’re supposed to have. Instead, Chani walks out of the room and her fealty to Paul to go ride a gigantic worm off into the desert.
Now, on the ascendant messiah front, it all too often feels like Paul Atreides is limply moving toward his inevitable fate instead of truly wrestling with it. Yes, he has his hestistancies but his internal journey to his destiny isn’t met with much resistance. There’s no monologue in which he deeply ponders the fate ahead of him. There is no serious conversation with Chani about their life together and how becoming a war-mongering messiah will change that. There’s no substantive contemplation at all. What Paul Atreides does have are quick, repeated visions of people starving with the implication that the full vision (which isn’t shown) is incomprehendously awful. Because he doesn’t have grapple with deep consequences of his actions, all it takes is his old friend Gurney Halleck, played by Josh Brolin, to show up out of nowhere tell him that he actually has a stockpile of nukes that no one knows about and are ready for him to use. This is strange plot development because the Harkonnen are monitoring the planet like the NSA. Anyway, then all it takes is a well-timed attack on a northern part of Arrakis by Feyd-Rautha, played by Austin Butler, to kick the plan into gear.8 Once that attack happens there’s no discussion of whether or not to head South, he merely does. Why not go East or West? Is one serious attack enough to change his calculus? He’s been on the run for awhile and, as far as it seemed, the only thing that changed was one new attack. Is it just survival? Has he decided to embrace his destiny? Is this just evidence that he’s an unwitting pawn in the Bene Gesserit’s grand scheme? It could be the case Denis Villeneuve wants to leave this question open to interpretation but I’m actually not sure there is an answer.
The lack of tension and emotion in Paul’s rise to power doesn’t stop there. Once he comes back from “the water of life” it doesn’t take that much to convince the southern Fremen evangelicals that he is him. In fact, all it takes is for Paul to read one person’s mind and the rest of the Fremen fall in line almost immediately. Funnily enough, this happens right after they’re all about to fight him for being a false messiah. Now, maybe my Christian upbringing is affecting my cultural worldview here, but one exchange with one person can’t enough to convince 10,000,000 other people to join the faith. Unless, of course, Paul Atreides is the most charismatic person to have ever lived. On this count, though, Dune Part 2 does not succeed. Certain actors are cut out for certain roles and frankly, I don’t believe Timothée Chalamet is great as Paul Atreides. I believe he gives the role his all, but Timothée Chalamet the 28 year old American occasionally shines through the character and not in a good way. There are times throughout the film where he walks, talks, and carries himself like someone who is living on earth in 2024 which should be different from how someone would act if they were living on Arrakis in 10,191.9 Something about that fact makes it difficult to fully believe in this role, which is admittedly a very, very difficult one—especially considering the fact that Paul Atreides is supposed to be fifteen years old. So perhaps too much is being asked of Timothée. Hell, even Keanu Reeves, who was absolutely amazing in The Matrix, couldn’t successfully become God in The Matrix Revolutions.
The responsibility here doesn’t entirely fall on Chalamet. Villeneuve’s directorial choices bear their share of responsibility too, many of which are slightly confounding. To start, there isn’t a lot of strategy or sense of place in Dune Part 2. That might sound provocative, but for all the talk of grand political maneuvering and location switching, much of it is done very subtly. We’re not given frequent signposts as to where we are or what the mission is. There are deadlines in the movie that drive the plot forward but the viewer doesn’t have a great sense of what they are. There’s an impressive raid carried out on spice harvester in the first hour or so of the film, but it isn’t clear if there’s something about this particular spice harvester or if they’re simply engaging in sabotage. Much of the film exists in this state of limbo. There’s a looming threat that the seven other houses will attack if things go wrong on Arrakis but their interests are assumed by the emperor and not given a voice. This lack of guiding detail makes for an often frustrating viewing experience because we’re expected to follow a story that you’re just supposed to get. By contrast, a key part of the epic grandeur of Lord of the Rings is that the plot is crystal clear from the beginning in The Shire to the dropping The One Ring in the fiery belly of Mt. Doom. Dune Part 2 is vague about many of its details that it should be obsessive about.
But it’s not only the vagueness that doesn’t really make sense. There are some very confusing knife fights at the heart of this movie. Now, I understand, after reading a brief Collider article, that there are no guns on Arrakis because in Dune soldiers have personal defense shields thanks to something the “Holtzman Generator, [which produces] the ‘suspensor nullification effect.’” Apparently, this effect is protective against many things but if a bullet hits you while you have your shield on it’ll cause a nuclear explosion. But in the first twenty minutes of the film we see a Harkonnen soldier get shot from range and there’s no such cataclysmic event.10 Yet, even if we grant that guns aren’t a part of the Dune universe, which is fine by me, much of the knife fighting is still nonsensical. This is a broader complaint that Dune Part 2 falls victim to, but the MMA-ification of fight scenes in movies has made them boring—particularly when the MMA moves mixed into gigantic set piece combat scenes with people running in all directions. There are too many flying heel hooks into takedowns in movies and Dune Part 2’s cup runneth over with them. This personal choreographic action preference aside, it’s the main fight scenes that really don’t make sense.
The fight scene with Feyd-Rautha, play by Austin Butler, is shot in tremendous fashion in infrared lighting. The premise of the fight is that it’s his birthday and he is going to give a sadistic show to the lovely people of Giedi Prime (his planet). The show he’s putting on is killing three members of the House Atreides. Two of them have been drugged but, as a surprise “gift” from his uncle Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, one of them is sober and ready to fight—except that person has also been sitting in a jail cell for some time with no inkling that he is in anyway thriving. This surprise is meant to be a test for young Feyd-Rautha to find his true inner killer. But why not give him more of a challenge? Why even have the two other guys in the ring at all? Feyd-Rautha even has guards within the arena with him. Sure, he calls them off and even turns off his shield but the stakes of the scene already are what they are. It’s dramaturgically weak—to borrow a word from Jeremy Strong.
The weakness doesn’t stop there. The two most important knifings of the movie are actually quite dull, despite having big impacts on the story and happening in quick succession. The first is when Paul kills Baron Harkonnen. It’s revealed earlier in the film that the Baron is his grandfather. So right before he stabs him he says something close to “Hello grandfather, now you die like an animal.” According to Villeneuve, this is one of the most powerful scenes in the movie because it’s the moment that Paul becomes more of a war-crazy Harkonnen than an Atreides.11 Maybe it is, but isn’t he also here to avenge the death of his father? Isn’t that supposed to be a noble thing to do? I realize that Paul is not “the hero” but Villeneuve doesn’t rise to meet the moment. Like so much else in the movie, the knife is plunged and then we move on. Is this a keen reflection of the cruel world they inhabit or is it the result of a storyteller who doesn’t want to sit with his story?
Anyway, the next knifing is the one that really makes no sense. Basically, right after Paul kills Baron Harkonnen, he threatens the emperor who calls for a champion and Feyd-Rautha, who inexplicably wasn’t inclined to intervene sooner to protect his uncle, decides to step up.12 Paul declares, “May thy blade chip and shatter”13 and the fighting begins. Almost immediately, Feyd-Rautha outclasses Paul Atreides and quickly has him on the ropes. Paul scores a customary counter attack as they exchange blows before Feyd-Rautha flips the script and seriously stabs Paul. As I recall, Paul steps away leaving the knife in him but then re-engages combat despite being severely wounded. Feyd-Rautha, sensing the kill, moves back in close where he seems to make fatal combat again but in an off-camera parry, it’s actually Paul that has stabbed Feyd-Rautha and now he’s the one that’s dying. That’s how the penultimate fight of this 2hr 46M ends. It’s anti-climactic but Feyd-Rautha and Paul are rivals in name only in Dune Part 2. The scene doesn’t stop there because then, with two supposedly serious wounds, Paul walks across the room and makes the emperor kiss his ring as an act of subservience with everyone just sort of accepting it. This all is meant to capture a transcendent transfer of power but it doesn’t play that well if you stop for a second and don’t readily accept it on its own terms.
There are other elements and oddities about the film that are worth discussing but I’m running out of steam and I suspect maybe you are too. So real briefly, the casting overall has issues: Christopher Walken barely avoids doing his Christopher Walken impersonation. Javier Bardem is an odd choice for an indigenous Fremen leader, as my friend Kate pointed out to me, because he looks like a Spanish Conquistador incarnate. The costume design often feels eerily close to an early season of Yeezy apparel. Largest of all is how the legacy of Islam sits heavy over the whole film. As Manvir Singh noted in the New Yorker, Frank Herbert, the author of Dune, had a deep appreciation for Islam’s contributions to the world, whereas Villeneuve is either less interested or constrained by the studios to express Herbert’s vision. That doesn’t stop Villeneuve from using Arabic inflected design in the sets and costumes, wailing music in the score, or arabic inspired words in the dialogue. Though notably, one major change is the fact that the word Jihad was omitted in the screenplay despite being used heavily in Herbert’s manuscript. Dune Part 2 is curiously selective in what it takes in order to give a product that’s visually sleek, audibly stunning, and palatably apolitical.
So in conclusion (lol I haven’t written those words in forever), I’d like to say that Dune Part 2 is an impressive and often enjoyable movie. Denis Villeneuve is a master of his kind of film craft. But it needs to be said that there’s an emotional whole at the center of this movie that can’t be intellectually or aesthetically filled. That’s why, for all of its grandiosity, Dune Part Two is essentially a higher brow version of Michael Bay. That does not mean that it isn’t fun but it does mean that at a very fundamental level it might not be good.
There’s an interesting, though familiar, divide between audiences and “top critics” over Dune Part 2 with the critics noticing flaws and the audience seems disinterested in.
Borrowing a point here made by Justin Chang in his review for the New Yorker, which is great! https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2024/03/11/dune-part-two-movie-review
Admittedly, I think this is what all directors do, and are supposed to do, but Denis has the ability to make you feel like has done these things more than other directors. In this way, I think he follows in the Kubrick style of filmmaking where things like the set design and cinematography take primacy of the plot.
Funnily enough, Denis later clarified by saying that he doesn’t hate dialogue but that he tries to avoid it as much as possible. So…? https://www.darkhorizons.com/denis-villeneuve-says-i-dont-hate-dialogue/
As the Valedictorian of this year’s class, Dune is particularly good at using the famous “BRRRRRRRAAAAAWWWWRWRRRMRMRMMRMRMMMMM!!!” from Inception.
For a little context, Dune Part 1 ends with him killing a vaunted Fremen fighter named Jamis which earns him the partial respect of the Fremen. So now, in Dune Part 2, he’s sent by Stilgar, the leader of the Fremens he’s with, to venture out to a faraway place in the desert.
From what I read there are two interesting and important changes to Chani’s character in the movie. First, she is made into an atheistic Fremen fighter instead of being a Fremen priestess the way she is in the book. Second, she and Paul have a kid together, but that kid isn’t in the movies. From what I understand, the book spends a lot more time with them as a couple. Now, I know I said I didn’t care about what came over from the book but this is an example of how Villeneuve takes their relationship for granted in the movie.
This attack is what leads Paul to head south and drink “the water of life.”
Max Read makes note of this in his essay “'Dune: Part 2,' annotated.” Btw, this is a great read if you want to get a good breakdown of what happened in Dune Part 2 and particularly if you want understand how the movies differ in key ways from the books.
This is something again that Villeneuve doesn’t really explain in Dune Part 2. Maybe it was all in Dune Part 1 but I don’t think you should have to read footnotes to watch a movie.
You can read more in USA Today: You can read more in USA today: https://www.usatoday.com/story/entertainment/movies/2024/03/02/dune-2-ending-explained/72751692007/
Maybe it could be argued that this reflects his cold, sadistic nature but he is 20ish and will one day inherit the house of Harkonnen and maybe more, so why do nothing exactly?
Smh, Villeneuve really does not care about dialogue.
Had similar feelings. It felt like the whole fate/destiny theme swallowed up all contingency and much of the drama. Still a fun ride tho.