Somehow, I still haven't read Dune, so I was a little ashamed of going to see the movie first. The reviews, though, were just too compelling to miss our shot at seeing it on the big screen, and I've got to say, I'm very glad we did. Not only was the film incredibly beautiful and more than worth the cost of cinema tickets, but I actually thought that I benefitted from not knowing the plot on the way in.

Why? Well (assuming the movie and book are pretty similar in terms of plot, pacing etc.) Dune is not a modern Hollywood movie. It's got the budget, and the cast, and the production value, and the VFX of a modern Hollywood movie. But the plot is all backwards. The epic, grand battle happens in the middle of the film. The hero's moment to prove themselves and take on their mantle happens right at the end. The film deftly concludes the immediate storylines, but leaves the main arcs set up but open-ended (presumably for the inevitable sequels). It's surprisingly refreshing! Each story beat feels like it fits the narrative, rather than fitting a formula so consistent across films that it's only notable when, as with Dune, it's broken. And rather than feeling like a movie trying to break the mould and deliberately messing with audience expectations, in Dune these differences just feel natural. No one would question the order of events, because they're so clearly right for this story. The typical blockbuster formula simply wouldn't work here; sure, it would still be a fun film with some great world-building, but it would lose a lot of the character and soul that sets Dune apart.

I wonder if this is why the book is considered such a classic – that even when it was written its narrative was so strong as to eschew expectations and norms – or whether it's more a damning state of how formulaic modern film has become. Either way, it works extremely well.

Layer on top of that a fantastic cast, some absolutely stunning set and costume design, and a pitch-perfect score (who expected bagpipes to work this well in a sci-fi setting‽), and Dune is already feeling like a modern classic. But then you get to the world-building, and here it's just in a league of its own. I'm sure most of this work is the result of the original source material, but the visuals and direction have to be applauded for how well that source has been adapted for the screen. The world of Dune is simultaneously unique, human, alien, futuristic, realistic, and somehow familiar. It's a far cry from the sleek, idealism of Star Trek or the rough, almost corny fantasy of Star Wars. Interstellar ships are truly gigantic; planet-based aircraft are clearly designed differently than those used away from an atmosphere (plus, the whole dragonfly design is beautiful by itself); technology is unusual but practical and has evolved to fit the needs of the culture it portrays, rather than simply being futuristic looking. Their personal shields are a great example of this: it's a simple visual effect that makes a lot of sense and has resulted in an entirely different type of warfare, and some absolutely stunning VFX work. The bombs that "drill" through the outer shields by pressure, then ignite within the still faltering shields... 👨‍🍳💋

Which isn't to say that everything about the world of Dune is truly original, nor does it always make sense. The biggest glaring problem here are the sandworms, whose presence is used in fascinating narrative ways and whose design/effects are extremely effective (the whole sand liquefaction is brilliant). But come on, their biology makes no sense. We're told that the "native" humans brought what little plant life the planet hosts with them, and the only other creatures that seemingly live on the barren desert are small rodent-like critters, so what on Arrakis do sandworms naturally eat? I'm aware that a retcon explanation exists that posits that they are filter feeders, eating a sort of pseudo-planktonic lifeform that lives in the sand (and, weirdly, that this plankton is in fact the larval stage of the sandworms themselves, a frankly unnecessary complication to understanding how such a life cycle could evolve in the first place). Okay, sure, filter-feeding works in this instance, and there's plenty of light on the planet that the upper layers of sand could logically support a biosphere of autotrophs and phototrophs. I even quite like the fact that "spice" is a waste product of the worms, both for a reason as to why it exists on the planet in the first place, and for why the previous ruling Family didn't simply hunt the creatures to extinction immediately on arrival. But if these are filter feeders, why are they also hyper carnivorous? Why do they come running at the first sign of tremors on the planet's surface? Why (and how?) do they swallow entire town-sized vehicles whole? Analogous creatures on Earth (whales) tend to have extremely narrow, small throats because they don't need big ones for swallowing microscopic plankton. If sandworms are supposedly evolved as, effectively, grazers, then where do these predatory biological instincts come from? And why, on a planet that largely lacks resources, are they so damn fast? Nothing else moves, why burn that much energy?

Perhaps their ecology is better explained in the books, but the sandworms aren't the only bit of worldbuilding that falls apart a little when you scratch just a bit below the surface. There's also the slightly too-evil enemies. The two main families/empires that the story has focused on are almost parodies of themselves. Our heroes are righteous paragons of virtue, ruling through wisdom and honour. Our villains are basically amoral fascists that rule through fear, greed, and force. To go along with these themes, our hero's homeworld is a lush, verdant, utopian place of beautiful sunsets and deep-rooted traditions, whereas the villains live on a planet that's just all mining equipment and industry and slime baths. Look, it's great to see a father figure that genuinely cares for their heir to the throne and would be willing for them to step aside, if ruling isn't their prime choice. In fact, over the course of the movie, all of the heroes become much more fleshed out, interesting characters, to the extent that you can forgive the obvious morality being shoved in your face. They are shown to be at least a little manipulative; even if that manipulation is designed to serve the greater good for the most part, there's still a tinge of self-survival and family-first about their actions, which humanises them. But the villains get no such treatment. Every decision they make is just evil: they're backstabbing, angry, genocidal, arseholes who see the universe as nothing but a means to further riches and power. It's a little cheap and, even though their villainy is used well and the actors do a great job within the roles, it's still weak storytelling IMO.

That said, these are extremely minor gripes. The movie is immensely enjoyable, incredibly well made, and has stuck with me for days after watching it (and will likely continue to do so for weeks/months/years to come). I'm not sure I've had an experience like this with a new franchise since I saw The Fellowship of the Ring way back, and I do genuinely think that Dune could become an equally revered and exalted series as The Lord of the Rings. The world that they have crafted, and the characters that exist within it, are genuinely fascinating, and that final teaser at the end has me desperate for more. I thought they wove flashbacks/flashforwards into the narrative extremely cleverly, I found the space witch angle surprisingly interesting, and even the whole "prophesised one" trope has me interested, simply because Paul is such a well written, intriguing character. I also cannot wait to learn more about the "natives" of Arrakis (and get to see Zendaya actually have more of a leading role, rather than simply being Dream Girl 😂) and see where the story goes moving forward. In short, I'm hooked 👏👏

There's always some concern with a sequel to something as epic as Dune was. It's definitely been a while since a film series has been this captivating and immediately beloved. Thankfully, Part Two (despite the incredibly dull name) manages to both live up to the original and arguably improve on it. There's no denying that this is a bit of a bridge film, but as a conclusion to the major themes and arcs of its predecessor, it does a great job.

The cast remain exceptional across the board, though some serious props have to go to both Zendaya and to newcomer Austin Butler. I thought Zendaya masterfully tread the line between love interest, antagonist, and voice of sanity, really hammering home the key criticisms of a "white male saviour" narratives and the lessens that should be learned from historic abuses of religious ideology and tribalism by colonialist interests. These are not new motifs – they're very much a key part of the original book – but the film does a cracking job of highlighting them, without tiring them out. Butler, on the other hand, is just pure acting chops. He handily matches up to Chalamet and the rest of the more experience cast, and I feel like he very much elevated his character. Feyd-Rautha could have easily been a one-note psychopathic villain – dude has a triplet of cannibal brides after all! – but his subtle interactions, combined with some clever camera work, ensure that his intelligence and cunning are very much front-and-center. I'll be honest, I didn't even clock how well he was able to mimic Skarsgård's incredibly distinctive accent, but I think that just further cements how brilliant this performance was.

But Dune is much more than just an exceptional cast and stellar direction. Much like the first film, the design work here is breathtaking. The monotone birthday celebrations on the Harkonnen home world are mind-bending, and left me desperate to understand how much was CGI and how much was in-camera or even on-set trickery. Either way, this implosive fireworks? 👩‍🍳😘 And that moment when the worms are revealed within the sandstorm? A perfect action beat, brilliantly framed.

Speaking of action, I haven't seen a fight sequence as fresh and anxiety-inducing as the finale between Butler and Chalamet. It managed to balance the visceral reality that a knife fight inherently has with a kind of poetic beauty, all whilst staying grounded and incredibly tense. The way the actors moved felt not just realistic, but realistically practised, creating a truth of their intense training during their respective upbringing. But the moments it really shone were when one or both of them had to react instinctively. A leg block here, and shove there, a desperate pivot away from an unexpected jab. They kept the fight feeling gritty yet also deeply entertaining and unexpected. A masterclass in choreography!

So what else is there left to praise? The narrative delivered on all of the promises of the first film, whilst deftly heightening the stakes and expanding the world-building, particularly of the Fremen people. The new characters were nicely introduced, alongside new mysteries. And Paul's ascension to the status of a Messianic figure was dealt with really well, with as much push back as he could manage, desperately trying to find another way, which only made his character more likeable.

Aside from one minor plot niggle – why not just launch the nuclear attack immediately, if he wanted to avoid going south so much? – my only real concern is looking ahead. With the fight on Dune now complete, Paul's order for the loyal Fremen to take to the stars and fight for him against the other families is the first moment we really see how far he has fallen. But more than that, it marks a shift in the narrative focus, from this relatively tightly-knit tale of two families and the indigenous people caught in the crossfire, to one of galaxy-spanning proportions. And I don't know if I want or need that? I guess we'll find out whenever the third film drops.