Dune (1984) - film review

In the distant future, the advanced worlds of the Spacing Guild are dependent on a spice known as melange, which can be found on only one planet, Arrakis, a desert world that is also known as Dune.  Melange is not only essential for space travel but extends both the lifespan and consciousness of those who consume it.   When the Guild learns of a plot to halt the production of this essential spice, a navigator is sent to Shaddam, Emperor of the Universe, advising him to take immediate action.  Shaddam reveals that he has the matter in hand.  Having identified the House of Atreides as a threat to his reign, the Emperor has contrived a scheme to pit them against the rival House of Harkonnen.  Shaddam is unaware that the son of the current Duke of Atreides, Paul, has a divine purpose, which is to ally himself with the Fremen, the human inhabitants of Arrakis, and break the power of the Guild....

Frank Herbert’s cycle of classic Dune novels finally made it to the big screen in 1984 after a decade of wrangling, cold feet and general confusion over how the writer’s vision could best be realised.  After various distinguished directors fell by the wayside (including David Lean, Orson Welles and Ridley Scott), it was David Lynch who finally managed to get the project off the ground, with a 40 million dollar cheque from producers Dino and Raffaella De Laurentiis.  As it soon transpired, Lynch was hardly the best man for the job.  Not being a sci-fi enthusiast, he had difficulty interpreting some of Herbert’s concepts, he completely lost control of the budget (which ended up at 60 million dollars), and the end result is a turgid mass of muddle, madness and brilliance.  

The main difficulty that Lynch faced when writing and directing Dune was having to condense Herbert’s sprawling and complex story into a single movie with a reasonable runtime.  Lynch later argued that the main reason why the film failed was because his original three hour cut was trimmed to a two hour feature, against his will and without his cooperation.  We will never know what Lynch’s original vision had been but the film that was ultimately released is certainly no masterpiece, and some reviewers have described it as one of the worst science-fiction films of the decade (which is some accolade when you consider some of the other contenders).

In common with many science-fiction films that were made in the mid-1980s, Dune has dated badly, and not just because of those awful haircuts.  The biggest culprits are the special effects, which may have been impressive in 1984, but today they are horribly unconvincing (with the exception of some remarkable model shots).  Over the past two decades, sci-fi cinema has moved on in leaps and bounds, with more sophisticated stories and effects that are far less embarrassing.  Today, Dune looks like a stack of old-fashioned sci-fi clichés, complete with wooden characters and lines that no actor could say today without choking to death on his own intestines.  For all its failings, the film continues to enjoy something of a cult status, partly on account of its improbable cast (which includes the singer Sting and future Starship Enterprise captain, Patrick Stewart) but mainly because of its association with an essential piece of science-fiction literature.

For anyone who has seen some of Lynch’s other work, Dune will come as something of a shock.   Whilst the film is visually stunning in places and bears the director’s distinctive darkly lyrical hallmark throughout, it is mess in both artistic and narrative terms.  The elegance, sophistication and allegorical quality seen in Lynch’s The Elephant Man (1980) and Blue Velvet (1986) are virtually absent from this film.  Characters are poorly developed, the plot makes virtually no sense (some parts remain unfathomable even after repeated viewings), and the pace is so uneven that you almost feel you are on one of those fairground rides that you know you should never have got on to.   Dune is clearly not David Lynch’s best hour, but it is still a strangely compelling work, a techno-baroque dream that ensnares the imagination and confounds the intellect.

© James Travers 2009

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