Dune is epic cinema, delivering a warning, an invitation and a promise
Denis Villeneuve's take on the classic science-fiction novel is a genius bit of world-building
Desert power: Timothée Chalamet and Rebecca Ferguson in Dune. Photo by Warner Bros.
The last line in Dune is: "This is only the beginning." It had bloody well better be. Because as wondrous a movie as Dune is – and it is epic, Homer-meets-Shakespeare-by-way-of- Star-Wars epic – it is still only half a story. And if director and co-writer Denis Villeneuve doesn't continue the tale of Paul Atreides' coming of age on the desert planet Arrakis – I mean, I guess I could reread the second half of Frank Herbert's 1965 novel, but where's the fun in that?
Villeneuve, who cemented his science-fiction bona fides with 2016's Arrival and the following year's Blade Runner 2049 , proves himself more than equal to the task of adapting a literary classic. It's an undertaking that stymied such directors as Alejandro Jodorowsky, Ridley Scott and Peter Berg, all of whom were attached to earlier versions before dropping out. David Lynch's 1984 film has its fans but was undeniably a box-office flop.
Part of Villeneuve's genius is the way he initially sketches out his characters in broad strokes – "I am smiling," says weapons master Gurney Halleck (Josh Brolin) at a command from the Duke to lighten up – and then gradually fills in the details. The introduction is gradual, but by the end of the film we feel we know them intimately.
The action is set in the year 10191. Dune -atics more versed in the lore than I will tell you that dates are measured from the founding of the Spacing Guild about 10,000 years hence. Any way you slice it, it's a long time from now in a galaxy right here.
It all adds up to a glorious two and a half hours of cinema
Oscar Isaac stars as Duke Leto Atreides, benevolent ruler of the planet Caladan. As the story opens, the Emperor has granted him stewardship of Arrakis, whose wealth-generating properties (thanks to a substance known as "spice") are rivaled only by its harsh climate, giant sandworms and an irascible group of early settlers called the Fremen (rhymes with lemon).
Leto arrives with Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), whose title of ducal concubine is not nearly as demeaning as it sounds. She's one of several strong female characters in the movie, alongside Sharon Duncan-Brewster as Dr. Liet-Kynes, a kind of local governor who was male in the novel. There's also Chani (Zendaya), a Fremen woman of whom we'll see much more in (ahem) Dune: Part 2 .
Others in the royal household include the aforementioned Gurney Halleck, and Jason Momoa as Duncan Idaho, a trusted lieutenant who brokers a fragile peace with Fremen leader Stilgar, played by a delightfully taciturn Javier Bardem. And of course there are bad guys, including Stellan Skarsgård as Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, a role I could see being played by a late-career Marlon Brando, and which was once offered to Orson Welles in the never-made Jodorowsky version of the 1970s.
But the central character in novel and movie alike is the Duke's son, Paul Atreides, a Messiah-in-the-making played by – well, I was going to say a brooding Timothée Chalamet, but when is that lad not brooding? He looks like his first words were: "What is this thing called life?"
Regardless, he's great in the role, watchful and wary and a little cynical. When his mother tells him that the people of Arrakis have been conditioned by a mystical female-led order known as the Bene Gesserit to expect a saviour from off-world, he scoffs: "Planting superstition." She shoots him a look: "Preparing the way."
Villeneuve does a fantastic job of world building here. There are alien tongues and secret sign languages. The dialogue is formal, even a little stilted – "What's mood to do with it?" Gurney snaps at Paul when the young man says he doesn't feel like fighting – without ever falling into the pseudo-Shakespearean valley.
He is smiling: Josh Brolin (left) with Oscar Isaac in Dune. Photo by Warner Bros.
There is architecture that would make Brutalist buildings seem like cozy cottages in comparison; 'thopters that look as though someone had reverse-engineered a dragonfly; and an almost comical number of shots of spaceships landing, hatches ratcheting open and ramps descending. I'm assuming most of the visuals are computer-generated, but if these were practical effects then the hydraulics budget must have been enormous.
Oh, and after decades of space lasers that go pew-pew-pew and shoot out congealed nuggets of photons, Dune gives us a real Martian heat ray that slices through the air like a killer spotlight. It's just another small example of a director who doesn't take anything for granted.
It all adds up to a glorious two and a half hours of cinema, often grim but punctuated with grace notes of happiness and even humour. At times it feels as if the characters, and by extension the actors behind them, can't quite believe their good fortune to be taking part in this tale.
The first line in Dune is: "Dreams are messages from the deep." It is part warning, part invitation. Don't be afraid. Fear is the mind killer. (If you don't get that reference then it applies to you even more.) Open your eyes, and let the dream take you.
Dune opens Oct. 22 in cinemas across Canada.
4.5 stars out of 5