(Update 2/23/24: After getting to see this version on the big screen, I wrote some additional thoughts here.)
After seeing Denis Villeneuve’s impressive new version, and after a long day at work, I figured I’d end my week by kicking back with a beer and revisiting David Lynch’s infamous attempt at tackling the book. Critically savaged on its initial release (with a very few defenders), Lynch’s Dune has since developed quite a solid cult, with key lines and images worming their way into popular culture and several increasingly lavish home video editions, the latest coming in December from Arrow Video. No question, Dune is in a pretty good place for a film that lost money in theaters and was disowned by its own director.
I myself found things to enjoy on my previous viewings, but I suspect I hadn’t actually watched the entire film in some time; in between the scenes I clearly remembered, there was a lot I’d totally forgotten. And what I’d forgotten was just how mediocre a film it really is. Whether the fault is Lynch’s or Dino de Laurentiis’, it’s a film which fails to tell a good story or develop strong characters, and its scattered strengths just aren’t enough to compensate.
Anthony Masters’ production design is its greatest strength, but it also reflects the production’s profligacy. There’s the Baroque futurism of the Emperor’s throne room with its brass ornamentation, the steampunk aesthetic of the Spacing Guild, the Gaudi-esque hallway in the Atreides’ castle, the expansive industrial emptiness of the Harkonnens’ home world (and the lime-green walls of the Baron’s chambers), and the cavernous sietches of the Fremen. They’re all striking, and they’re more imaginative than the Brutalism in Villeneuve’s version, but they feel like big, expensive sets, not places where people actually live and work. Likewise, there are scenes of extras in elaborate costumes, carrying elaborate props, and walking pugs (there’s almost a running gag with Duke Leto’s own pug), that do little but explain where the massive budget went. You can appreciate the design if you overlook how it fails to make up for what Lynch’s script, however compromised, fails to do.
And does it ever fail. It’s well-known that Lynch was forced to deliver a final cut of around 135 minutes to please de Laurentiis, and given how Villeneuve’s film is longer, yet covers only about half of the book (and still feels rushed at times), it’s no surprise that Lynch’s film struggles to get even the bare bones of the story onto the screen, but from the infamous opening narration, to the infamous surfeit of voiceovers, to the blunt exposition in nearly every line of actual dialogue, the film is more than a bit of a slog to actually watch.
It’s all for nothing, since the ruthless condensation keeps the characters from ever feeling three-dimensional or the story from ever sweeping us up with intrigue or excitement. The third act is especially bad in this regard – though the book does a fair amount of glossing towards the end as well – with an ending that’s not only nonsensical but grossly unsatisfying. But that sums up most of what’s come before, including the dreams and visions which fail to illuminate anything, and furthermore fail to offer really memorable imagery; we get floating hands, rippling water, and pulses of energy, which might be passable from a lesser director, but we know Lynch is capable of so much better.
So are the actors, most of whom are stymied by their condensed roles. Kyle MacLachlan’s Paul seems too mature, too ready from the outset to take control and fulfill his destiny, and his line deliveries are often hammy in the wrong way. Francesca Annis is a dignified cipher as Lady Jessica, getting a few moments to chew the scenery (“A million deaths are not enough for Yueh!”), but otherwise fading into the background. Jürgen Prochnow’s Leto is okay, but he just doesn’t have the time to develop the tragic nobility of the character. Patrick Stewart is at least able to make a decent impression as Gurney, but Richard Jordan’s Duncan barely gets a look in. Freddie Jones’ Thufir is passable, but the re-cutting leaves him adrift after the Atreides are betrayed; Dean Stockwell does get a little more of Yueh’s arc to work with than Chang Chen does in the Villeneuve film, but owing to some dodgy ADR his performance is stilted and awkward.
The villains fare a bit better. Kenneth MacMillan’s Baron Harkonnen isn’t quite as good as I remember, but his boisterous loathsomeness and the way he relishes his lines make his performance the best in the film by far. It helps that he gets a few moments to just be, rather than rushing through the beats of the story, even if those moments are sometimes baffling (like when he’s gloating about the Atreides defeat while his henchmen does…something, with…some gadget). Sting’s Feyd-Rautha might be the most iconic figure in the film, especially when he steps out of the steam-bath in a winged Speedo, and his arrogant smirk is ideally suited to playing a villain, but there’s just not enough of a character there. Paul L. Smith also gets some good moments as the oafish Rabban (“Who is this…Muad’Dib?”), and you won’t soon forget his little juice-box, which crushes an insect that one may sip its juices. I had remembered Brad Dourif having a larger role as Piter, but aside from his famous “It is by will alone” monologue, he’s just as wasted as the rest of the cast, and his odd hand gestures are annoying.
There are several other big names in the cast, most of whom have too little to do. My mom always felt that José Ferrer as the Emperor gave one of the all-time paycheck performances, and he’s certainly not good, but he gets more of a chance to shine than Linda Hunt as the Shadout Mapes, Virginia Madsen as Princess Irulan (who’s stuck with that ridiculous opening narration), Sean Young as Chani, Max von Sydow as Kynes (“urine and feces are processed through the thigh pads”), or Silvana Mangano as the Fremen Reverend Mother. Siân Phillips does get some good hammy-villain moments as Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, and Everett McGill’s Stilgar does give one of my favorite line deliveries in the whole film (“Muad’Dib“), but on the whole, it’s quite the waste of talent.
The special effects are quite a mixed bag. The practical effects, like the Baron’s floating, or the Guild Navigators in their tanks (they look like cancerous manatees), are generally quite good, and there’s some strong miniature work and creature designs by Carlo Rambaldi, but other effects, especially when optical printing is involved, look no more convincing than any other film of the era – even those made for a lot less money. The sound and sound effects are well-enough done – the sound mixing got the film its only Oscar nomination – but the original score by Toto is very much a matter of taste, with an impressive main theme reused too often and some moments of 80s cheese (the worm-riding scene, the end-credits) which undermine the sense of time and place.
But that was never very strong, because the film never does a very good job developing it. Lynch would later say he should never have taken the job, but I think, given a more supportive producer, he could’ve done a creditable job; a better producer might’ve talked him out of some of his sillier choices (the heart plugs, the cat) while encouraging him to develop the characters and story in a more efficient and natural manner. Trying to do Dune in a single film was never a great idea, especially one of this length, but the tensions behind the scenes resulted in a film that just doesn’t work.
Yes, there are images and scenes worth noting, and lines worth quoting. But those make up far less of this Dune than you may remember, and so much of it is so hollow, so dull, so lifeless, so strange and yet so unenticing, that I can’t recommend it for more than a single viewing, purely as a curiosity. Before Villeneuve’s version, one might have been inclined to go easy on Lynch’s film, since it was the only big-screen, big-budget take on Herbert’s book (I haven’t seen the 2000 miniseries, but I’ve heard the limited budget shows), but now, even allowing for the new film’s faults, it’s so much better and more complete than there’s no real reason to go to bat for this cheesy slog.
There’s an article on IndieWire which tries to make the case for Lynch’s film as a worthy take on the material in its own right, defending it as being more fun and more adventurous than Villeneuve’s film, and bizarrely suggesting that the Lynch film’s covering the entire story of the novel gives it an advantage over the newer version, as if the extreme condensation of the story wasn’t a big part of why Lynch’s film is so unsatisfying. It’s all a matter of taste, but for me, this Dune isn’t even very fun.
Score: 52
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