Dune: Part Two Review
The TL;DR Corner: Dune: Part Two sacrifices intimate character-based storytelling for epic spectacle, resulting in a grand vision for a narrative that feels thematically barren and visually dry.
SPOILER WARNING: This review includes discussion of character arcs and broad strokes of the plot to Dune. I recommend coming back to this after seeing Dune: Part Two — or, if you don’t care about spoilers, come on in.
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I didn’t see Dune Part One in theatres — I watched it at home months later. I remember thinking it looked incredible, but left it having virtually no clue what had happened. Maybe it was the environment I watched it in; a home viewing is a poor substitute for witnessing a film on the scale of Denis Villeneuve’s Dune in a theatre.
I knew I had to see Part Two in IMAX. Ahead of my screening, I rewatched Part One at home again, but with the hindsight of a second viewing. This time around, it wasn’t the design of these worlds, or the mechanics of these massive ships and vehicles that I came away with; rather, I locked into the performances. The uncertainty and conflict in Lady Jessica, grappling between her role in the shadowy Bene Gesserit conspiracy, and her love for Leto and her son. The warmth of Isaac’s Leto, trying to succeed with the cards stacked so heavily against him, and surprise standout Duncan Idaho who brought life to every scene Momoa was in. I feared Skarsgard’s Baron Harkonnen, and most importantly I was glued to Chalamet’s performance as Paul, who radiated an energy of an uncertain protagonist, coming to terms with his role to play in a grand conspiracy, knowing what he must do but unsure of what he wants to do.
Unfortunately, on this second viewing the same issues reared their head — the last 20–30 minutes of Dune Part One are deeply uninteresting, which could be explained away by the nature of having to craft a satisfying ending to half of a book’s narrative. However, for me the biggest issue is that it’s so visually mundane compared to the rest of the first film. The “naturalistic” low-lighting and blue-grey colour grading seen in Dune and countless other films/television shows have become a shorthand for realism in modern-day filmmaking; I know if I think about a science-fiction story set on a desert planet where tears are seen as a waste of a valuable resource, I think washed out, muted, and bland visuals.
And yet, it feels for a moment that perhaps things will be different in Dune: Part Two. A gorgeous, nearly silent opening sequence showing a squadron of Harkonnen soldiers hunting the surviving Atreides and Fremen, drowning in these oppressive orange-hues, sets the stage for an evolution in the style and visual storytelling. Yet, almost immediately after, we are brought back to the same washed-out and, frankly, boring look that plagued the finale of the first film.
I’m talking a lot about the colour and the aesthetic of these films because they represent my biggest issues — when you get past the Epic scale of everything, Dune: Part Two is an interminable watch. For all the scale of these worlds, and the grandiose thesis statements of falling to a fate you try to avoid, the main narrative is so inert that watching Paul shift from an outsider to the Fremen to the charismatic leader of a Holy War carries as much weight as reading a summary of these events. These important character beats all feel like obligations, rather than organic happenings; little care is taken in tending to the bridges of Paul’s developments.
The best moments on Arrakis are when scale is employed to tell the stories of these characters visually. Whether Paul learning to ride a sandworm for the first time, or Paul and Chani working together to disrupt a spice mining operation, these sequences showcase the power of making these characters feel small against their opposition, so that their success feels earned and powerful. Unfortunately, these moments are few and far between, as so much of this story is told either from overhead extreme-wides, or standard medium shots that become a routine visual language.
The film comes alive visually upon the introduction of Geidi Prime — the design of this world and its unexplained horrors are a breath of fresh air away from the shuffling goings-on of Arrakis, Paul, and the Fremen. The black-and-white atmosphere, mixed with the HR Giger-inspired design of the Harkonnen planet shows that this film can make a bold creative decision that goes beyond sandy brutalism.
It’s also on Geidi Prime that we are introduced to the single best performance of the film; Feyd-Rautha, played by Austin Butler, who brings a lightning-in-a-bottle energy that puts him head and shoulders above most of the cast. It does not bode well for the rest of the film that Butler’s Feyd-Rautha has better chemistry with his own uncle, Baron Harkonnen, than Chalamet does with Zendaya’s Chani. Hell, in their one scene together, Butler and Chalamet share better chemistry than Chalamet and Zendaya.
Intersecting with the Harkonnen storyline, Florence Pugh’s excellent understated performance as Princess Irulan, coupled with the brilliant costuming, serve to show her rapid understanding of her place in a system preparing to move beyond the withering Emperor Shaddam IV, excellently played by Christopher Walken. Alongside Charlotte Rampling’s Reverend Mother and Lea Seydoux’s scene-stealing Lady Fenring, everything between this group and the Harkonnens is easily the highlight of the film. Then, we return to Arrakis, and the visual and narrative whiplash is brutal.
To say Dune: Part Two peaks at the midway point would be a bold claim to make: the emotional climax of the film, and the grand battles and conflicts are yet to come. Rather, the Geidi Prime sequence and the machinations of the Bene Gesserit and Irulan are the peak of this film’s storytelling. There is chemistry on screen, coupled with brilliantly bold design choices that flourish against the barren, bland, and downright boring look of Arrakis. For the rest of the runtime, Part Two fails to live up to the ambitions of what is promised by Butler’s performance and the world that is shown, yet not explained. This is a film that feels almost blase about its appearance, despite so much care being taken to make this feel real and grand.
I find myself at odds with the general appraisal of Chalamet’s performance — he is working to uplift rather flat and underwritten material, yet it’s a struggle to buy the change Paul undergoes nearly on a dime. It never feels authentic, and Chalamet’s grand speech before the finale ultimately feels pre-ordained in a way that is neither tragic, nor invigorating.
Part Two falters in its depiction of the Fremen, primarily in its empathy. It’s striking how quickly the film brushes past a tragic sequence for their community and history, compared to the weight of what happens to House Atreides in the first film. Outside of Stilgar, where Bardem’s charming and devout performance lifts an otherwise flat character into an interesting counterpoint to Chani, none of the Fremen ever really feel like people.
The biggest casualty of the narrative is Chani, played by Zendaya. After a film of build up where she is a critical piece of Paul’s visions and movement towards his future, it’s a shame there is so little to her. Written to serve as the audience’s eyes to see the shift in Paul’s actions ahead of the third act, this is articulated visually through reaction shots that Zendaya does not play as strongly as needed. It’s hard to pin this squarely on Zendaya when the character is underserved, and there is little chemistry to sell the tragedy of Chani witnessing Paul’s descent into tyranny.
Ultimately, the narrative decisions made match the Brutalist aesthetic in nature — serving to move pieces around a chess board rather than craft a story that earns its moments. You can only gasp and stare in awe at these massive images so many times before you start to think about how little is behind it all. Why should I care about Paul’s decisions? Because the film frequently cuts to Zendaya staring disapprovingly, to show that actually this is all bad? In the mad dash to the third act, there is no time given to soak in what’s happened, and where all of this has led our protagonist and the people he has become a Messiah for.
So if the story is unengaging, and the visual language of the film is so mechanical and bereft of warmth and emotion, what was it all for? It’s frustrating to see craft that is so well-thought out, so detailed and immense, yet it’s all in the service of archetypal figures who never feel like something we should care about. With another yet-unannounced film to come, it still feels like we are thumping around in the sand, waiting for the emotion to burrow towards us, and overtake us. It doesn’t feel like it’s coming anytime soon.
