Dune Part 2

Dune Part 2. Dennis Villeneuve

It’s been a short time since I reviewed part one. In the meantime, I was at a family occasion. 

It was the first one since the pandemic where my father’s side of the family had been together. Generations of uncles and cousins, those who came from India, those grandchildren who have not been, and those in between—my variants—but all under Deb.

My nephew was there. His title is ‘Spider-Man: India” We talked about part 1. I told him I was not a fan of blue-eyed saviours. Hes 14. He is a British Asian of 2024, according to his response. “Uncle robin, not everything needs a social message. I like ships!”

Well, there are loads of ships in Dune Part 2. The story is on rails; again, you’re here for a theatrical ride. Paul Artredies is becoming moideeb, and we see the hesitant schisms with the freemen and the reverend mothers. With little exposition, we see how they have matriarchs that are neither side but their own. And it’s going some way to question the prophecy. I think of the generations in my family and how heritage is always one to inform, not define our futures. The world is more significant than any one house, and it recognises that. Paul even checks the privilege of education of his mother and how they can do what they do outside of any messianic bearing. He is trained to give speeches to fight. This is education, not providence. He’s Batman.

This is where the issue comes in, and there may be an attempt at greying him up. Rather than humanising the harkens with potential in an actor like Baptist, they make them so monochromatic in their goosestepping. It’s almost a Guinness ad director in the 90s who was given all the money to direct the deleted scenes from Allo Allo. The sting replacement may be wearing more than pants, but it’s the same bundle.

It is stunning and mesmerising, and I often think about the worm. This is Orbobus, and this is its problem. Dune set a template that was taken by so many better-known franchises and watered down, yet to keep to the source as I feel this has; it has dated in ways its successors have yet to. There were points towards the last act where I missed the lynch hyperbole and drama. There is an attempt to add some brevity and lighten the tone with Stilgar and Gully and the sand skio romance of Moideeb and Chani to give a teen romance angst fest. But ultimately, it’s all a bit “HEATHCLIFEE, it’s ME IT CHANI COME BACK TO MEE” to keep my ageing bones invested.

But it’s great to see someone make an epic 40k film about infantry taking down imperial Titans. The odds are a bit greyer than the first, but the reveals are amazing to see having much mileage. 

I think my nephew and cousins would enjoy it, and I can’t say that it lacks spice in parts. But there has to be a real lift in the gear for part three, as the flesh in this sand is feeling rather gamey.

And I spoke to my brother Mycroft about it. He commended me for seeing it in a matinee, and he fell asleep. It’s a long film.

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