Frank Herbert’s Dune has had a long and troubled journey to the screen – from the moment it was released in 1965, there have been various attempts to bring it to the screen. The well-documented efforts by revolutionary Chilean director and film iconoclast Alejandro Jodorowsky to adapt the novel after purchasing the rights failed (but at least is recorded in Jodorowsky’s Dune, one of the finest documentaries of the past decade), and the eventual adaptation was helmed by the master of surrealism David Lynch, who was taking the opportunity to make a space epic after turning down the opportunity to direct Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back. Considered one of the biggest failures in cinematic history (mostly due to studio meddling), Lynch’s attempts to visualize Herbert’s expansive world was a disappointment, as was the television miniseries two decades later. Finally, audiences and devotees of the series have received the faithful adaptation they have been craving for over half a century, on behalf of Denis Villeneuve, who continues to stake a claim as one of the most interesting directors of blockbusters working today. Following on from efforts to kickstart the Blade Runner series, as well as a variety of other projects he has aimed to develop, the director tackles Dune, being one of the few directors that could handle both the epic scope of the story, and the intricate, character-based details. The first in what is hopefully doing to be a pair of films, this adaptation is every bit the spectacle we’d expect, functioning as one of the most interesting and subversive science fiction epics of recent years, and a genuinely faithful adaptation that sees the director and his large cast and crew given free-reign to enter into Herbert’s world and tell this story that has captivated audiences for generations.

Dune has always been the embodiment of intimidating art – Herbert’s novels are notoriously difficult, being more impenetrable than possibly any other mainstream work of speculative fiction, surpassing the work of J.R.R. Tolkien in terms of sheer detail and complexity. As a result, the idea that it is an “unfilmable” novel has lingered, through the aforementioned failed attempts to bring it to screen, whether it be the directors who gave up on their ambition to venture into this mysterious world, or those that did put in the effort, but unfortunately produced works that not only failed to satisfy fans, but also didn’t seem to register with audiences in general. Dune has always been a work that is way ahead of its time, so it only makes sense that we’d only get a decent adaptation much later into the series’ existence, when cinematic technology had progressed to a point where we could easily suspend disbelief and immerse ourselves in this world. Villeneuve, who has surprisingly only been in the public consciousness for just over a decade (despite seeming like a director who has been part of the cinematic culture for much longer), has regularly been producing incredible works across every conceivable genre, seeming to find a particular kinship with science fiction – and the combination of his very cerebral, meticulously detailed approach, as well as his ability to make the most out of absolutely any resource, made him the right person to shepherd this film forward – and the result is something quite exceptional, every moment in this adaptation of Dune simmering with the intensity of a director who genuinely believed in the art he was producing. It’s not enough to just remark that Villeneuve was the right person to helm this adaptation, since acknowledging the result reveals what a layered and excellently-constructed film this version of Dune managed to be, despite every conceivable challenge being presented to them in the process – and there was certainly an insatiable level of public cynicism that persisted through the entire production. To take these obstacles and embrace them, to the point where the final product is likely going to be a definitive entry into the genre, is an impressive accomplishment if there ever was one.

Not many science fiction films can be considered a legitimate masterpiece, at least not those produced in recent years, since the technology being more widely available means that there are an abundance of filmmakers that take advantage and don’t realize the power they yield, often producing inferior works that are the definition of style over substance. Dune is a film that embodies the definition of a true cinematic spectacle – from the moment we hear those first notes of Hans Zimmer’s score, or see the sweeping shots facilitated by director of photography Greig Fraser, or notice the meticulous detail contained in every frame, we know that we are witnessing something incredible. The problem with referring to a film as revolutionary is that we can only tell whether this is true in hindsight – however, Dune seems to represent a seismic shift in contemporary speculative fiction, being both an immensely intelligent drama, and a well-composed visual masterwork. Every moment in its 155-minute running time is well-utilized, not a single frame wasted. It takes time to process – the sheer emotion contained in this film only really strikes you once you’ve walked away and had time to meditate on the deep themes. This is far from a film that operates at the surface level, with absolutely every detail meaning something, adding value to what is already a very layered premise. Perhaps the reason Dune succeeds to immensely is that Villeneuve understands that it isn’t the splendour that keeps audiences engaged, but rather the smaller details, the character-based nuances and narrative complexities that continuously push the film forward and make it such an immersive experience. We accompany Paul Atreides as he ventures into the world, acting as his passive companions. For a film set thousands of years into the future, on distant planets, to tell a story that feels so human and resonant is remarkable, one of the many reasons this is destined to be one of the finest adaptations of science fiction of the past few decades, a bold claim that seems almost presumptuous, but nonetheless appropriate.

Just as much as it is a visual spectacle, Dune pays attention to its characters, and casts the primary and secondary roles extremely well, showing restraint while still being a star-studded affair. Timothée Chalamet has continued to impress the world with his thoughtful and meaningful performances drawn from a deep well of talents, and thus was the perfect candidate to usher us into the world of Dune, playing the part of Paul Atreides, Herbert’s iconic protagonist. Chalamet has a sincere approach to his acting style, being able to command the screen without ever going too far, showing the simmering intensity that is integral to the character in the more subtle moments. It’s an approach that is seen throughout this film – everyone in the cast is operating at a similar level of overt restraint, adding nuance to a film that truly required some degree of authenticity – it also helps tremendously that the likes of Oscar Isaac and Rebecca Ferguson have large roles, in addition to Zendaya (whose presence in this film is surprisingly sparse), as they’re actors who know the value of carefully measuring one’s performance. A story like Dune could easily lend itself to excess, but not even Stellan Skarsgård or Charlotte Rampling (playing the maniacal Baron Harkonnen and the sinister Reverend Mother) dare to go too far, as it would’ve likely upset the balance of the film and made it less effective. Villeneuve has always prioritized his casts, extracting the most essential details out of their performances, and making sure that the story is serving their work, rather than the other way around. It’s a process of symbiosis, and every character (whether central or peripheral) is essentially in establishing this balance that is extremely key to the success of the film, and one of the many reasons Dune works so well, since it feels genuine as a result of the tremendous work done by the actors.

Navigating the world of Dune was an enormous responsibility, so one has to give credit to Villeneuve for managing to make something so incredible out of a notoriously difficult text. His methods in bringing it to the screen are fascinating, since his approach wasn’t to look at the entire text as one homogenous, linear story – instead, he breaks it down into segments, exploring each one of them in detail and adding resolution where it was necessary, and eliding important information in places in which intentional ambiguity was appropriate. While it is very likely that this is the first in a pair of films (with the opening credits referring to this as “Part One”, and the final words spoken are “this is only the beginning”, indicating a clear intention to revisit this world and continue this story, a fact that the director has been very open about, should it be made possible), even if by some bizarre twist of fate this is the only entry into the series, it will still stand alone as a tremendously satisfying work of incredible science fiction. It’s always uncomfortable when a film tries to establish itself as the first in a franchise, and it was always expected that Dune would follow suit – the difference here is that there actually seems to be an active effort on the part of everyone involved to make it cohesive as a film on its own, rather than just an introduction to later entries, in which exposition is paramount to exploring to the audience’s understanding of this dense and often challenging narrative. It’s unknown whether we’ll ever be able to visit this version of the world again, since absolutely nothing is set in stone yet – but as it stands, Dune is a tremendously satisfying and entertaining film that takes several risks and manages to find each one of them paying off in some substantial way.

Not many big-budget science fiction films can lay claim to both mastering the art of world-building and focusing on the narrative details with such precision, but if there was ever going to be someone who succeeded in this nearly impossible process, it would be Villeneuve and his precise methods of creating unforgettable images with narratives that match it at every turn. Dune is one of the most fascinating and immersive films of the year, an enormous production that can sometimes feel intimidating (and there are many moments where the viewer may feel as if they’re going to get lost in this huge world – as long as we can trust the director’s vision and know that we’re in good hands, this feeling abates almost immediately), but always gripping. The visuals are absolutely staggering and surprisingly economical, the director not taking reckless advantage of the large budget and progressive technology, and instead keeping everything quite simple, despite the scope of the project. Venturing into Dune is an unforgettable experience – it’s a sprawling, complex odyssey that is detached from nearly all rules of logic, while somehow still being built on recognizable principles, and it has numerous plot details that even the most gifted filmmakers would struggle to seamlessly integrate into an adaptation. This isn’t to suggest that Villeneuve has more talent than other directors (after all, the previous attempt to bring this novel to the screen was helmed by David Lynch, one of the most gifted artists of any generation), but rather that he had a particular vision that worked well in conjunction with Herbert’s novel. It makes changes where it is necessary, and stays faithful in all the places that it matters. It all works spectacularly well, and turns Dune into one of the year’s most enthralling films, a daring and hauntingly beautiful science fiction epic that reminds us that there is still a lot of life in a genre that many take for granted as a result of over-saturation. Hopefully, the chilling final words of “this is only the beginning” turn out to be prophetic rather than ironic, and that we are given the opportunity to visit this world again under the careful guidance of Villeneuve and his talented collaborators that made this stunning film possible.