Dune: Part 2 begins with the line, “He who controls the spice, controls all.” Control lies at the very heart of Dune. An indigenous desert tribe trying to take back control of their home planet, royal houses fighting each other to gain control, the galactic emperor scheming to maintain control, and an ancient sisterhood with multi-layered plans to control them all from the shadows. If myths taught us anything, it is that heroes emerge to fight systems of power. However, Dune, leveraging everything grand and sweeping about the monomyth (or the hero’s journey), tells us how heroes might themselves become a system of control.
The sequel, which picks up immediately after the original film, is a densely packed network of themes. From how faith breeds fundamentalism to the manufacturing of legends for psychological control, the construction of powerful economic structures through oppressing the people, the ruthlessness of large-scale politics, and the perilous drive for revenge and its consequences, Dune provides you with multiple focal points to study its various themes.
However, what is more fascinating is how these themes are connected to provide a seamless narrative. For example, the broader commentary on how religion is used as a tool of manipulation also feeds into how Paul Atreides metes out his revenge. The consciousness-expanding hallucinogen called Spice, which unshackles Paul from his conventional views of morality, is also the central component in space travel, which goes on to fuel the economic systems and the political power plays at large. While these complex ideas are already inherent in Frank Herbert’s Dune, where the film excels as a consummate adaptation is how Denis Villeneuve preserves the intricacies of the story within the simplified, visual grammar of a film.
There is a scene where Javier Bardem’s Stilgar makes an appeal to his community to accept Paul as the messiah foretold in their prophecies. Meanwhile, Chani and her supporters argue against this notion, explaining how these prophecies are designed to manipulate and control them. Both the groups stand surprised as Paul intervenes and agrees with Chani. The scene is then immediately cut to Javier discussing with fellow believers how only a messiah could be this humble.
With this scene, elevated by economic dialogue and efficient editing, not only the absurdity of blind faith is explained but also how a close-knit community like the Fremen, are willing to lay down their lives for an outsider like Paul. Even in scenes where you are sure to know the outcome—like in the final confrontation between Paul Atreides and Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen—Denis pushes the rhythm and pacing just below the breaking point so you are always on the edge. Like how a roller coaster still thrills you even when you see the drop coming, the filmmaker keeps you hooked, even when the story takes a predictable turn.
A large part of why the film’s emotional beats work so well could be credited to the performances. Austin Butler leaves a lasting impression even when you realise, in retrospect, that Feyd-Rautha is a conventional psychopath we have seen countless times on screen before. Zendaya’s performance as Chani elevates her as the moral core of the film, the defiant voice of reason, who stands unswayed by the overwhelming tide of events.
Timothee Chalamet’s portrayal of Paul Atreides has powerful range, making us smoothly sail past questions like why the Fremen both revere and fear Paul, why Chani struggles between her love for Paul and her sense of morality, why a psychologically strong Bene Gesserit with thousands of years of memories is shaken to the core when Paul shouts ‘silence!’. Chalamet makes us understand Paul so intrinsically that we never question the authenticity of such a larger-than-life character. However, Rebecca Ferguson seems to have the most fun, playing an unhinged, psychologically complex character like Lady Jessica.
Ferguson’s Jessica could have easily become the witch archetype that she is accused of by the characters in the story. However, with a layered yet restrained performance, Ferguson keeps Jessica grounded and does not give into the extremities of the character by making her a mentally unstable manipulator. What we instead get is a political mastermind and a morally grey religious figure.
The foremost triumph of Dune: Part 2 is the orchestral precision with which Denis Villeneuve concocts total immersion. From Hans Zimmer’s delightfully overwhelming score to carefully crafted sound design, production design that effectively captures the expansive world-building, Greig Fraser’s powerful visuals that drench you with every angle of sunlight, and evocative performances.
These cinematic machinations work in tandem with the intricate network of themes inherent in Dune, in a seamless flow, to give us the story of how someone can be both a hero and a villain, how a messiah both emerges and is manufactured, how the Atreides and Harkonnens are the one and the same, and how determinism and free will are somehow interlinked.
Breaking conventions of the hero’s myth, Dune: Part 2 shows you the illusion of dichotomy, which is perhaps put succinctly in the final dialogue between Jessica and Gaius Helen Mohiam. Jessica says, “You have chosen the wrong side” and the reverend mother replies, “You think there are sides?”
Film: Dune: Part 2
Director: Denis Villeneuve
Cast: Timothee Chalamet, Zendaya, Austin Butler, Rebecca Ferguson, Javier Bardem
Rating: 4/5