"Dune: Part Two": The Cynical Epic for Our Times
The sci-fi sequel is awe-inspiring, but also hits more somber notes
Spoilers for Dune: Part Two to follow…
We all know how the hero’s journey will end
In “The Hero with A Thousand Faces,” Joseph Campbell popularized the concept of the monomyth. He posits that there are 12 steps to a hero’s journey - beginning with the call to adventure and ending with the hero’s return home as a permanently changed man or woman. It is a story structure that has been retread in popular cinema - George Lucas credits Campbell’s writing as an inspiration for Star Wars. Yet we never seem to tire of watching this familiar story recycled, whether the setting is space or a medieval fantasy world.
Great cinematic epics work because they transcend the form - make you forget that you’re watching a story you’ve seen before. James Cameron is a director who understands that his films must follow the expected beats (and contain universal themes) to speak to the world. Hence why the biggest criticism levied at his Avatar films are that they follow established templates (the first Avatar being called “Dances with Wolves in space” is a tired insult). Yet Cameron’s deft handling of the emotional through-lines and action make the Avatar films more than just groundbreaking FX.
With The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Peter Jackson made high fantasy palatable to a wide audience because he made it so easy to invest in the Fellowship. The overarching story is of the meek conquering the mighty, but we’re rooting for Frodo and Sam. Lore will only take you so far (see Amazon’s attempt to replicate the same magic with The Rings of Power), but beloved characters can inspire generations of fans to rewatch. Even if we know intellectually that the One Ring will eventually be destroyed at Mount Doom (because that’s just how stories work), we are still captivated.
Few blockbuster films actively engage with that sense that yes - the hero will win. Fewer films couple this with a sense of dread…
Dune: Part Two is the spectacular payoff to the setup of 2021’s Dune: Part One. Like its predecessor, it is a marvel of craft and mints the next generation of movie stars (Zendaya, Florence Pugh, Austin Butler, and Timothée Chalamet). It lives up to the tradition of epic cinema with powerful sound and image - demanding to be seen on the largest possible screen.
Dune: Part Two continues the hero’s journey that began in Part One. Paul Atreides (Chalamet) and his mother Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson) have fled from the destruction of House Atreides, and have found a new life with the Fremen people native to the Planet Arrakis. The first act of the film treks through the desert sands as Paul learns the ways of the Fremen (In the film’s most immersive IMAX sequence, Paul learns to ride an enormous grandfather sandworm). Meanwhile, behind the scenes Paul’s mother engineers his rise to power as Muad'Dib - leader of the Fremen fundamentalists.
The film series is based on Frank Herbert’s 1965 novel, but the themes translate well to today. Herbert was inspired by British soldier T.E. Lawrence and how his intervention transformed the Middle East in the early 20th century. The religious fanaticism and cult of personality that Lawrence stoked, and Herbert reflected in the character of Paul Atreides, still have resonance in the early 21st century. Dune is also truly timeless in another context - it reflects the rise of fascist strongmen that recur throughout history (and are unfortunately still familiar to modern audiences).
Paul’s ascendency is prophecy in the film - his retribution against those who killed his father a foregone conclusion. The audience has a similar bloodlust. We need the satisfaction of seeing our hero succeed - the narrative cycle must complete. Yet Villeneuve makes the audience very aware of the cost of victory.
In the first film, Paul has a vision (brought on by the spice of Arrakis) of “a holy war in my name” - a struggle that results in the deaths of billions across the galaxy. Despite Paul’s attempts to stave off his destiny (and his mother’s plans to set him on this path), we watch every decision bring him closer to this foreseen future. As obstacles are cleared from Paul’s path, Villeneuve’s camera observes passively, muting the feelings of triumph of watching a hero complete their trials.
Denis Villeneuve’s shrewdest choice as director is to frame the film from the perspective of a skeptic - Paul’s lover Chani (Zendaya)
We see Paul change in her eyes from an innocent (“I will love you as long as I breathe,” he tells her) to a leader to be feared, allowing Villeneuve to control the film’s tone and keep the audience from revering Paul as well. Paul’s speech to the Fremen council could be viewed as a rousing call to arms, as he incites the Fremen to fight for their freedom. Instead, in the film treats it as something far more disturbing. Paul plays on the fear of the Fremen, using his visions of the future to to declare himself the ultimate authority. The camera observes him from the Fremen perspective - as a figure positioned above them all. It’s the signature sequence of Timothée Chalamet’s career so far, as he proves himself to be a terrifying performer.
Chani also watches as the Fremen around her transform into believers, swayed by Stilgar (Javier Bardem). She witnesses the mob mentality take root, a process sped by Lady Jessica. We frequently see her in shots as the only one standing as others bow - doubtful of Paul’s role as Messiah because she sees the humanity, the vulnerability, behind the figurehead. When Paul awakens after tasting the deadly “water of life,” ticking off yet another box on the Messiah checklist, Chani immediately slaps him in the face.
As with Blade Runner 2049, Villeneuve gravitates to material that undercuts the concept of “the Chosen One.”
In Dune, the Bene Gesserit (a sisterhood of witches, of which Lady Jessica is a part) have laid the groundwork for the Fremen belief in a Messiah. The Bene Gesserit even had a role in Paul’s birth through their breeding program. To this galaxy-controlling organization, Paul is simply a pawn rather than a leader with agency (it is suggested that the villainous Feyd-Rautha - played with relish by Austin Butler - would also make a suitable Messiah for the sisterhood).
By framing Paul’s story through the Bene Gesserit’s mechanisms, Villeneuve plays on an emotion familiar to young audiences - helplessness. This is a world where the older generations continue to hold onto power, and wealth can dictate the fate of the world. The sense that young people are not in control of a ship headed for destruction runs deep. As Reverend Mother Mohiam says, “there are no sides” - to the unaffected upper class of this world, it doesn’t matter which clans go to war and which lives are lost in the slaughter. They are not in control of their destinies - the shadowy organizations above them are. Paul can see the corrupt structures surrounding him, the hidden threads. Yet he eventually gives in to resignation, and to the established plans of others.
There is a sadness to Paul defeating Feyd-Rautha in combat and usurping the emperor’s throne, despite the fact that Austin Butler plays a matricidal psychopath. When Paul tells the Fremen to send their opponents “to paradise,” it’s almost as if he is reading a line from a script, motivated to enact genocide because that’s simply the next domino to fall. He is forced to play the part of Messiah, to continue along this path - bound as much by prophecy as he is by the narrative structure of the hero’s journey.
Paul ends the film as a leader trapped by his own power and knowledge
Villeneuve is a director for the moment - and not just because so many other directors have copied his cool, clean aesthetic (particularly in television, but last year’s All Quiet on the Western Front was also noted for having a similar grey look). The romanticism and sentimentality of blockbusters of yesteryear (see: Cameron’s Titanic) have given way to Villeneuve’s pragmatism. This is a director who has not been afraid of exploring darkness - see Sicario and Prisoners. Yet the Dune saga operates on a larger scale, and it appears general audiences have reacted strongly to the ambiguity Villeneuve brings to the blockbuster. We are in a world shaped more by pessimism over the future than by the hope of alternative narratives. Audiences are also less likely to believe in pure heroism and goodness - more likely to see Paul as a manufactured savior. It easier for modern audiences to relate to a world where free will and control are confirmed to be illusions, rather than a world like that of The Matrix where one individual can break through the noise.
Dune: Part Two ends with the first shots of Paul Atreides’ holy war, and the promise of an adaptation of Dune: Messiah to come. As Chani distances herself from her lover, calling a sandworm to take her away, we watch a mix of emotions overcome Zendaya’s face. While Paul has “won” the throne, she has lost her battle for his soul. Chani recognizes that she was fighting the inevitable, and powers beyond her. Her belief in free will, and the possibility that the future is not preordained, has been challenged.