Dune
Few literary works in history are as complex and multi layered as Frank Herbert’s 1965 science fiction opus Dune, an epic tale that not only covers the human race nearly 10,000 years from now, but also its evolution, having long since abandoned Earth to now inhabit a cluster of four planets all within the vicinity of each other, all ruled over by an Emperor along with two prominent families of nobility who are constantly in conflict with each other. The driving force behind everything is a valuable substance called The Spice, something which can only be mined from the barren 4th planet (Dune) and which can not only prolong life, but also enhance psychic abilities and expand one’s consciousness to the point where many humans have now obtained almost godlike capabilities in having control over their own existence and that of others (i.e. women can actually decide the gender of their own unborn children). With that basic premise, the potential for an overwhelming narrative is certainly a given, not to mention both the budgetary considerations and logistics for such a cinematic adaptation were certainly daunting for anyone looking to take it on. The great surrealist filmmaker Alejandro Jodorowsky certainly tried in the 1970s, filming a handful of scenes and recruiting a cast consisting of everyone from Salvador Dali to Orson Welles to Mick Jagger before the plug was inevitably pulled. The second attempt (which was completed and made it to the screen) was directed by David Lynch, working under the auspices of producer Dino DeLaurentiis with the two of them feuding constantly over both creative and money issues. Lynch would later declare it to be the only real failure of his career, refusing to discuss it during interviews and reportedly still disillusioned about the production to this day. The movie itself is a mixed bag loaded with missed opportunities, including the inability to fully flesh out this cinematic universe properly forcing most aspects of the story to be painfully rushed. The trade off is in some astonishing visuals and an absolutely loaded cast to die for, with Kyle MacLachlan (in his debut) acquitting himself rather nicely in the key role of Paul Atreides, a literal messiah figure (who was prophesized as such) and son of nobility who leads the outcast denizens of the desert planet in the quest for their own independence (not to mention a fair amount of power since they control the Spice flow). Herbert explained that his vast story had but one simple message which is to never trust your leaders, no matter who they are and how popular they appear to be, and Atreides’ quest to lead the common folk while avenging his noble Duke father’s death (and also virtually overdosing on the Spice that is inherent in the planet’s atmosphere which makes him even more powerful) is the gist of the story’s momentum. But the overall cast is just so packed that part of the fun comes from seeing which big name will come onscreen next, including Brad Dourif, Jose Ferrer as The Emperor (the role originally intended for Dali), Linda Hunt, Freddie Jones, Virginia Madsen, Everett McGill, Jack Nance, Jurgen Prochnow, Paul L. Smith, Patrick Stewart, Sting, Dean Stockwell, Max Von Sydow, Alicia Witt and Sean Young, but the scene stealer (perhaps for the wrong reasons) would have to be Kenneth McMillan as the bloated, pus covered and floating Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, leader of the House Of Harkonnen and such a degenerate wretch, he requires all of the citizens of his planet to be installed with a “heartplug”, a device that when merely plucked off, quickly results in the recipient suffering blood loss, cardiac arrest and then death, hence making anyone in his presence an easy and obvious victim. McMillan (who had a hot character acting career in the 80s before dying at the end of the decade) brings a shamelessly unsavory edge to the character, with his unnerving ability to constantly be floating and worse, a sexually perverse nature that compels him to cannibalistically feast on a frightened, effeminate young man (after pulling his heartplug of course) and even implying that he has an attraction towards his well built, near superhuman nephew and heir to the Harkonnen hierarchy (Sting) who himself possesses an overwhelming desire to face down and kill Atreides knowing full well that it would put him right in line for the Emperor’s throne. One of the more interesting (and annoying) aspects of the film is that since enhanced psychic abilities are far more commonplace in this environment, it results in several characters’ thoughts literally being spelled out by the various actors’ voices without their mouths even moving (i.e. direct subtext) and it’s something that either you can get used to or just get taken out of the movie entirely. Done in limited amounts, it could work fine, but when you have almost every character in here getting at least one so called “inner voice” moment, it can grate on the nerves quite a bit. Meanwhile, it feels like everything is just too underdeveloped even at 2 hours and 14 minutes and going to a running time of at least 3 hours (although two extended versions are in circulation even as Lynch insists that his intended cut is the theatrical one) would have been much more beneficial to both the narrative and the sensational cast (especially McMillan’s depraved Baron) to allow their performances more breathing room (at least the 2023 remake allowed for a sequel in order to do just that although obviously the 1984 cast can’t be replicated) and certainly the 1984 level special effects have some deficiencies that maybe someday can be touched up. In the end, a noble effort that at least makes the viewer curious enough to check out the original source novel so that one can get more familiar with all of this material…
5/10