Dune: Part Two | Review
Dune Un2 Others as Denis Hath Dune Un2 You.
Dune’s reputation as an unfilmable story is well-earned.
The second half of Frank Herbert’s epic is easy to envision on a big screen—it’s the first half, focused on political intrigue and world-building, that has made previous efforts stumble by bogging down any adaptation’s attempt. David Lynch’s 1984 valiant attempt to adapt Dune resulted in a hacked-within-an-inch-of-its-life mess (#releasetheLynchcut). The 2000 miniseries required a miniseries to faithfully adapt the story.
So what makes Denis Villeneuve’s 2021 Dune: Part One a triumph lies in choosing to take an “unfilmable” novel and split it in two, focusing exclusively on the politically focused first half. Not distracted by the grandiose action of the second half, Villeneuve boiled it down into two-and-a-half hours of coherent storytelling and exciting spectacle. But even with its highs, there’s no escaping that it still distinctly felt like half a movie.
That’s what makes Dune: Part Two a singular and satisfying spectacle. Building on the groundwork laid in Part One, Part Two soars.
It’s a credit to Denis Villeneuve and co-writer Jon Spaihts that Part Two smartly starts by taking its time in allowing the viewer to settle back into a foreign, desolate world in its first act. Where Part One went straight into exposition, Part Two takes its time in re-establishing its stakes and characters. Indeed, one of Part Two’s improvements over Part One is the script, which contains far more natural and less stiff dialogue and a clearer sense of character among the Fremen.
A particular highlight is Javier Bardem’s Stilgar. His sincere faith in Paul – sincere to the point of comedy – clashes well with Chani’s skepticism, initially for comedic effect, but then subsequently for increasingly dramatic effect.
Visually, Villeneuve nails the sense of scale he developed so keenly in Blade Runner 2049. The vast expanses of Arrakis feel appropriately daunting, the world of the Emperor feels more luscious and intimate, the black-and-white introduction of Feyn Ratha is appropriately terrifying. It’s that black-and-white sequence that will leave the most impact on the viewer, as it’s clear that Villeneuve is just showing off what he’s able to achieve with visual effects (the plasma fireworks will live rent-free in my mind’s eye for a long time).
Although there’s nothing in the film’s set-pieces that’s quite as rousing as Gurney Halleck leading the Atreides into a doomed battle while bagpipes blare in the background as in Part 1, Villeneuve never takes the attention off the characters for long enough to lose the audience in the chaos of a battle.
Part Two belongs to Zendaya, the picture’s emotional arc, who returns with more to do than in Part One. Her role is more than just Paul’s conscience – she becomes the audience surrogate for watching Paul’s descent into despotism. It’s sublime. Her facial expressions speak volumes even when the dialogue becomes clunky, with a particular highlight being the powerful last shot of the movie. Her change in expression channels an entire character arc into a single moment. Upon rewatch, one suspects that Chani will quietly become the most enduring character, thanks in no small part to Zendaya’s acting.
The film does suffer from a poorly sketched-out political setting, however. Christopher Walken’s emperor feels completely limp, like a pointless figurehead whose authority still somehow manages to garner him the complete support of the other “great houses.” Walken, a storied performer, doesn’t bring the necessary sense of gravitas or presence and suffers next to the other antagonists. Where Stellan Skarsgaard’s Baron is revolting or Butler’s Ratha is a physical menace at all points, Walken’s emperor is just unremarkable. Casting an actor with Walken’s gravitas was a smart choice if the point was to demonstrate the contrast between political power and physical power, but the character is so thinly written that he can’t help but feel like a perfunctory plot point. His submission to Paul does not have the narrative heft it should, and it does undermine an otherwise fantastic climax.
It’s a function of the script’s focus on Paul’s turning towards embracing his fate that the antagonists, as a whole, feel significantly weaker and less dynamic than the protagonists. Dave Bautista’s screaming-heavy performance works better than it did in Part 1, but works only as a foil to Austin Butler’s Ratha (although Bautista, whose career-best performances were his quieter, more restrained turns in Blade Runner 2049 and Knock at the Cabin, still feels like the weak link in the ensemble cast).
And Ratha doesn’t have anywhere to go as a character once he’s introduced in the spectacular aforementioned black and white sequence. But this may be the intention in writing relatively static villains who still leave an impression. And with Lea Seydoux stealing her ten minutes of screentime as a Bene Gesserit agent, it might be better that the villains don’t take too much attention off of Paul’s turn to darkness, or on Jessica’s manipulation of the Fremen.
Dune: Part Two feels like a film that will reward rewatches more than Part One did. There’s so much to appreciate in Villenueve’s craft, and I haven’t even touched on Timothee Chalamet’s much-improved performance as Paul, or Rebecca Ferguson’s manipulative turn as a more agency-oriented Jessica.
The film is very deliberate about reflecting author Frank Herbert’s desire to undermine the savior narrative (or the film’s very explicit white savior narrative), to the point of heavy-handedness. But the performances are so powerful, the visuals so stunning, and the direction so creative, that any flaws are easy to overlook.
Go see Dune: Part Two, then go see it again.
Once the spectacle washes over you, you’ll discover that just like Arrakis, there’s a rich story to be discovered under the spectacular surface.
