It's no surprise to anyone walking into Dennis Villeneuve's Dune that it is only part 1 of the story. The title implies a very different kind of missing ingredient. But let's rewind.
First, kudos to all involved for, at long last, the definitive screen depiction of Frank Herbert's gargantuan sci-fi classic. Finally, a creative team is able not only to merely hint at, but do justice to a dense plot and long list of players, all while keeping the audience's jaws sagging to the floor throughout most of the runtime. As most other viewers have already mentioned, this is spectacle on a very rare scale, and you would be well advised to view this on the biggest screen possible, in 2D.
Dune is the story of a galactic power struggle for Arrakis, the desert planet home to the spice melange essential to interstellar travel. They who control the spice, control the universe. As the film opens, House Harkonen fall out of favor (or do they?) and stewardship of Arrakis is handed to the noble House Atreides (but to what end?). There, young Paul, the heir to the latter house, discovers his role in the galactic chess-game, and his unexpected calling as a futuristic messiah.
Upon watching Dune, all the usual hallmarks of a Dennis Villeneuve production are again present and accounted for: top-notch casting, world-building and performances. Whereas the expansive nature of the story initially had me wondering why the decision was made to go with a theatrical project (rather than, say, a generously endowed HBO or Netflix miniseries), watching the Canadian auteur at work, it is clear that if Dune belongs anywhere else than on the page, it is on the big screen. The faults, so far, lie largely with the source itself.
The greatest hurdle in connecting emotionally with this film is that Paul, despite total commitment by Chalamet, is hard to relate to once his destiny becomes more clearly traced out. This makes the once controversial decision to beef up the characters of Lady Jessica (Ferguson) and Chani (Zendaya) all the more essential and understandable. Though their actions thus far in no way betray the Herbert tome, they, especially Rebecca Ferguson, become our emotional anchors, and perhaps the film could have weighed this consideration even more heavily.
Dune is awe-inspiring, its designs are fantastic, but it is rarely touching, or emotionally engaging. And somehow, Hans Zimmer managed to drop the ball, churning out generic percussion and throaty wails yet depriving us of a single, memorable cue.
Still, by rights this ought to be the real post-pandemic rallying cry back to the silver screen, and it is very possible indeed that Part II will even surpass and transcend it.
First, kudos to all involved for, at long last, the definitive screen depiction of Frank Herbert's gargantuan sci-fi classic. Finally, a creative team is able not only to merely hint at, but do justice to a dense plot and long list of players, all while keeping the audience's jaws sagging to the floor throughout most of the runtime. As most other viewers have already mentioned, this is spectacle on a very rare scale, and you would be well advised to view this on the biggest screen possible, in 2D.
Dune is the story of a galactic power struggle for Arrakis, the desert planet home to the spice melange essential to interstellar travel. They who control the spice, control the universe. As the film opens, House Harkonen fall out of favor (or do they?) and stewardship of Arrakis is handed to the noble House Atreides (but to what end?). There, young Paul, the heir to the latter house, discovers his role in the galactic chess-game, and his unexpected calling as a futuristic messiah.
Upon watching Dune, all the usual hallmarks of a Dennis Villeneuve production are again present and accounted for: top-notch casting, world-building and performances. Whereas the expansive nature of the story initially had me wondering why the decision was made to go with a theatrical project (rather than, say, a generously endowed HBO or Netflix miniseries), watching the Canadian auteur at work, it is clear that if Dune belongs anywhere else than on the page, it is on the big screen. The faults, so far, lie largely with the source itself.
The greatest hurdle in connecting emotionally with this film is that Paul, despite total commitment by Chalamet, is hard to relate to once his destiny becomes more clearly traced out. This makes the once controversial decision to beef up the characters of Lady Jessica (Ferguson) and Chani (Zendaya) all the more essential and understandable. Though their actions thus far in no way betray the Herbert tome, they, especially Rebecca Ferguson, become our emotional anchors, and perhaps the film could have weighed this consideration even more heavily.
Dune is awe-inspiring, its designs are fantastic, but it is rarely touching, or emotionally engaging. And somehow, Hans Zimmer managed to drop the ball, churning out generic percussion and throaty wails yet depriving us of a single, memorable cue.
Still, by rights this ought to be the real post-pandemic rallying cry back to the silver screen, and it is very possible indeed that Part II will even surpass and transcend it.