When it finally touched down in theaters three years ago, the most notable characteristic of Denis Villeneuve’s first Dune film was probably the fact that it existed at all. A properly monumental adaptation of Frank Herbert’s 1965 novel had been something of a cinematic white whale (or worm, if you will), defeating filmmakers as illustrious as David Lynch and Alejandro Jodorowsky. After several decades’ worth of failed and abandoned attempts, Villeneuve (Arrival, Blade Runner 2049) and his collaborators pulled off an impressive achievement, bringing the cherished literary science-fiction tale to life in grandiose and relatively faithful fashion, all without sacrificing that essential blockbuster currency: spectacle.
Dune: Part One proved to be a thrilling and visionary work of epic sci-fi, although it had to shed some of the thematic sophistication of the book to attain such lofty heights. The feature hinted at the source material’s weighty social, religious and ecological themes, but it was generally more focused on introducing the audience to the indelible, neo-feudal universe that Herbert created. The most notable thing about Dune: Part Two, then, is that it brings these themes to the forefront in a way that the first chapter could never quite manage, while also still delivering plenty of visceral action and awestruck world-building.
Picking up almost exactly where the previous feature (somewhat abruptly) left off, Part Two finds exiled-and-presumed-dead noble scion Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) and his mother Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson) warily accepting the hospitality of the Fremen, the native people of the desert planet Arrakis. Both mother and son quickly find their place in this new world. Paul learns the ways of the Fremen guerilla warriors who sabotage the spice-extraction efforts of Arrakis’ colonizers, the brutal House Harkonnen. Meanwhile, Jessica — a member of the enigmatic witch cabal the Bene Gesserit — assumes an esteemed spiritual role, exploiting the messianic myths of the Fremen and paving the way for her son’s ascendency. This doesn’t sit well with Paul, who is more focused on assimilating with his new allies and winning the affection of the hard-edged fighter Chani (Zendaya).
This summary barely scratches the arid surface of Dune: Part Two, which, like its predecessor, is fairly dense with intergalactic politicking and mystic gobbledygook. Villeneuve and co-writer Jon Spaihts approach this material with unflagging gravity, however. Their characters whisper urgently and roar defiantly, treating every moment with life-or-death, cosmic-scale weight. (Javier Bardem’s true-believer Fremen leader Stilgar is the only one who cracks the occasional droll joke.) Fortunately, Villeneuve excels at maintaining this kind of sobriety for two (or three) hours at a time, wooing the viewer with the potency of jaw-dropping sights and bone-rattling sounds. The absurdity of all the arcane sci-fi nonsense dissolves in the reactive heat of Dune‘s epic bulk and overwhelming sensations. By the time the film visits a gladiatorial arena roaring under the monochromatic light of a black sun — complete with ink-blot fireworks — the viewer won’t even notice how silly the characters sound when they say phrases like “Kwisatz Haderach.”
Chalamet rises to the occasion in this second chapter, holding on to Paul’s deep ambivalence while allowing his idealism, arrogance and (eventually) holy zeal to fully emerge. In comparison, Zendaya’s role doesn’t demand as much of her, but Villeneuve’s revisions to the story at least give Chani more to do, lending her relationship with Paul a stronger and more mature sense of tragedy. Amid a gamut of new faces — Florence Pugh, Léa Seydoux and Christopher Walken among them — Austin Butler is the showstopper as the bloodthirsty Harkonnen princeling Feyd-Rautha. It’s no small thing to upstage Sting’s unhinged, weirdly hypersexual take on the character from Lynch’s 1984 film version, but Butler gets there, albeit via a very different route. (Imagine Dracula as an edgelord albino salamander with a knife fetish and you’re halfway there.)
However, where Dune: Part Two truly impresses has less to do with its performances than the film’s facility for balancing blockbuster extravagance and stickier, more cerebral matters. Part One was concerned first and foremost with efficiently introducing an encyclopedia’s worth of people, places and concepts. Consequently, the deeper aspects of Herbert’s story were mostly confined to the film’s characterization of Paul. This new feature, in contrast, tackles the novel’s thorniest themes head-on, illustrating the power of Chosen One tropes, the threat of runaway zealotry and the temptation to believe your own bull plop. Indeed, Dune: Part Two might be the most clear-eyed film about saviors and schisms since Monty Python’s Life of Brian. (Seriously.)
Paul is beset by disturbing visions of a coming holy war that he is desperate to avert, but the future may already be beyond his power to control. Scheming and malignant forces surround him — political, economic and religious — and the foes that want to eliminate him outright somehow seem less dangerous than those who want to wield him as a weapon. Most insidiously, the Bene Gesserit have been manipulating intergalactic politics for centuries, seeding worlds with superstitions and nudging noble genealogies for their own inscrutable ends. Dune: Part Two insists that to use faith and prophecy in these kinds of cynical power games is to play with fire. As more than one character learns to their horror, a controlled burn can become a raging inferno in the blink of an eye.
Dune: Part Two
Directed by Denis Villeneuve. Written by Denis Villeneuve and Jon Spaihts, based on the novel by Frank Herbert. Opens March 1.
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