Dune: A Sublime yet Bleak Adaptation

by Ted Giese

Focusing on the first half of Frank Herbert’s 1965 science fiction novel, Denis Villeneuve’s adaptation of Dune chronicles a young prince’s tragic coming of age amidst a futuristic struggle for power, resources, and influence between feudalistic nobility and specialized guilds.

Noble houses control entire planets within an imperium and the Emperor has ordered Baron Vladimir Harkonnen to vacate his royal house from Arrakis, an unforgiving yet resource-rich desert planet commonly known as Dune. In their place, Duke Leto Atreides and his family and courtiers are invited to settle on Arrakis and oversee the spice mining industry.

The resource called spice melange, found only on Arrakis, extends consciousness and longevity. It also facilitates space travel making it the most valuable substance in the universe. (Oil would be the present-day analogue, if oil could also be used for medicinal and psychoactive pharmacology.) Furthermore, the spice holds sacred importance to the indigenous people of Arrakis, the Fremen, and is likewise part of Dune’s complex ecology.

The popular Duke’s concubine Lady Jessica, a member of an exclusively female pseudo-religious organization called the Bene Gesserit, has broken her sisterhood’s orders by bearing her Duke a son, Paul Atreides. Jessica had previously been commanded to bear only daughters. The Bene Gesserit’s involvement in a centuries-long secretive breeding program to sire a super being, the Kwisatz Haderach, is jeopardized by Jessica’s choice. In the midst of political intrigue and military conflict, Paul emerges as a potential hero for Arrakis’ oppressed Fremen people: their prophesied messiah, the Lisan al Gaib—the Voice of the Outer World. Highly trained in martial arts and statecraft, the precognitive Paul Atreides must face dangers while wrestling with the responsibilities of being the son of a Duke, and possibly even the Bene Gesserit’s Kwisatz Haderach. Much is expected of the young man but not everyone is expecting the same things. He is an emerging mystery, even to himself at times.

This is very dense science fiction encompassing politics, religion, economics, and environmentalism. The level of detail is Tolkien-esque involving a large array of characters with competing interests and goals.

Before the film really begins, even before the audience can generally be expected to pay attention, a strange disjointed voice says something unintelligible which is subtitled “Dreams are messages from the deep.” While not subliminal — the audience is clearly intended to see and hear it — the jarring phrase, in a surreal kind of way, gives the viewer the impression of having noticed a mistake. But it is not a mistake; it’s a clue to pay attention to everything and anything to do with dreams. At one point early in the film the Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother, Gaius Helen Mohiam, sent to test the young Paul Atreides before he embarks to Arrakis, asks him: “Do you often dream things that happen, just as you dreamed them?” Paul’s dreams in Dune are part of his precognitive prophetic abilities. These dream sequences both introduce the Fremen girl Chani, Paul’s future love interest, and a possible bloody galaxy-wide Holy War spearheaded by Paul and the Fremen people.

Dune makes viewers work for their supper: nothing is handed to them on a silver platter, and attention to detail is very important to keep the saga’s many threads from becoming tangled. But it is worth the effort.

While readers of the book will see Paul’s dreams of the future as a kind of trap he’s trying to escape, this aspect is not expressed as clearly for casual viewers as it could be. In part this is because, Dune, for all its details, is light on exposition; director Villeneuve chooses to “show” more than “tell” as the story unfolds. The groundwork for future expansion on these ideas is there but the significance of the director’s subtle approach may be apparent only to devoted fan of the books or repeat viewers of the film.

Lady Jessica’s Story

Much of the drama of the first half of Herbert’s book is generated not from the esoteric spiritual prophecies of a teenage messiah figure as much as it is from the knowledge that Paul’s father, Duke Leto, is walking into a trap by relocating to Arrakis. The book has a byzantine air of treachery, full of potential spies and assassins where no one is above suspicion—not even the Duke’s concubine Lady Jessica. In the book, she spends a great deal of time trying to identify if there is a traitor among them, but this storyline is removed from the film. As a result, audiences will have a reduced understanding of characters like Dr. Wellington Yueh as well as his motives in selling out the Duke.

The simplification of Jessica’s part in the story also reduces the tragic nature of her and Leto’s relationship. In the book, the Duke, against his better judgment, approves surveillance of Jessica, through which she is demonstrated to be entirely loyal to him and their son Paul. And while this part of the story appears to have filmed—based on trailers and promotional images—it was ultimately edited out of the theatrical release.

At the same time, the film swaps the sex of Dr. Liet Kynes—the Judge of the Change and the Imperial Ecologist of Arrakis—from a man to a woman, in order to bring more female characters into an otherwise heavily testosterone-driven story. But the change amounts to very little; the character doesn’t bring anything especially feminine to the role justifying the change. The odd thing is that, while Villeneuve focuses on Lady Jessica and Paul as his primary protagonists, the decision to truncate Jessica’s part in the story as explained above leaves her only half the character she is in the book. Moreover, repeatedly emphasising Jessica’s emotional state does a disservice to the one extraordinarily strong female character in Herbert’s original book. For a production which has gone out of its way to increase the number of female characters, it strangely manages to reduce the role of the one excellent female character it already had.

Within the book, tension, drama, and character development for Jessica hinges on the fact that she has no obvious allies, as a number of men question her loyalty. As a result, she needs to rely on her Bene Gesserit training, intelligence, and inner strength to protect her son and her life. Her character is dangerous, strong, and intimidating in numerous ways: from her physical attractiveness, to her mastery of the quasi-mystical Prana Bindu martial arts, to her ‘witchy’ use of “the voice” used to control the actions of others, to her political acumen and knowledge of history and religion. In the film, actress Rebecca Ferguson does an admirable job as Jessica, but she is hampered by editing which leaves the character emotionally overwrought and reduced personal agency. The film’s version of Lady Jessica may be a more likeable character for the audience, but she is a less interesting character than she could have been. After all, should the goal be merely to have more female characters in a film or to truly develop the one truly multifaceted female character you have?

Heroes and Religion

The film covers only half of Herbert’s book, but Dune: Part Two has been announced for 2023, with Villenueve directing again. Audiences will hopefully get a chance then to see what the ultimate goal and point of Herbert’s book is leading towards. Unlike many young adult fiction coming-of-age messiah characters, Paul Atreides is not ultimately the hero audiences expect. In fact, Herbert’s books aim to teach people not to not pin their hope on heroes or political leaders because they will be a disappointment since there is no perfect hero.

For Christian viewers, it would be good to consider a character like Paul Atreides less in relation to Jesus Christ, then, and more with figures like the leaders in the Book of Judges: people who have character flaws yet also accomplish great things. Paul could also be viewed in the mold of King David, a flawed yet faithful individual, who starts out as a young man rising to prominence, anointed as king, yet hiding in caves in the wilderness fighting for his life and the life of the people until he can rule as king openly.

Viewers of Dune will notice many religious influences: everything from the Fremen style of clothing, to phrases like Lisan al Gaib and Mahdi, to place names like Arrakis include a thinly veiled allusion to Islam—especially to Iraq, with its deserts and oil fields. In the film, this Middle Eastern atmosphere is bolstered by Hans Zimmer’s Arabic-influenced soundtrack. That said, for the most part in Herbert’s Dune series, religion is simply a tool of statecraft and control. Villeneuve’s depiction of Paul Atreides so far captures this element of Herbert’ original well, especially compared to the quasi-divine depiction of Paul as a messiah in Lynch’s 1980s adaptation. Villeneuve’s Paul instead seems on track to become the tragic figure of Herbert’s original story.

Dune makes viewers work for their supper: nothing is handed to them on a silver platter, and attention to detail is very important to keep the saga’s many threads from becoming tangled. But it is worth the effort. While not as visually warm and charming, say, as Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, Villeneuve’s daring, ambitious, serious, and thoughtful approach toward Herbert’s classic story is well worth watching. And it’s certainly more satisfying and interesting than many other recent film series.

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Rev. Ted Giese is lead pastor of Mount Olive Lutheran Church, Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada; a contributor to The Canadian Lutheran, Reporter; and movie reviewer for the “Issues, Etc.” radio program. For more of his television and movie reviews, check out the Lutheran Movie Review Index.

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