There are few literary works that inspire as divisive a reaction, while still attaining some degree of radical popularity, more than Frank Herbert’s masterpiece Dune – and even those who find themselves entirely critical of his universe-spanning futuristic fable have to admit the influence of his writing on contemporary science fiction. As a cornerstone work that has continuously been cited as the novel that brought the genre to a much wider audience without needing to nullify the more complex themes that had previously kept authors like Arthur C. Clarke and Harlan Ellison at arm’s length for more casual readers, Herbert’s story of House Atreides and its various trials and tribulations have remained massively popular, primarly due to the story’s ability to balance complex socio-political commentary with some genuinely enthralling adventures. It was inevitable that it would be brought to life on screen, especially in the aftermath of George Lucas’ Star Wars trilogy, which in itself solidified (or at the very least ratified) science fiction as more than just B-movie fodder in the eyes of critics, audiences and the industry as a whole, and could have layers of prestige all on its own. It has been well documented that there were notable challenges in bringing the film to the screen, with directors like Ridley Scott and Alejandro Jodorowsky (whose own efforts are masterfully captured in the brilliant Jodorowsky’s Dune) being courted before their versions fell apart. It ultimately fell to David Lynch to make the film, with his version of Dune being the first attempt, as well as the only one for nearly forty years, before Denis Villeneuve was recruited to revive the story for a new generation. It’s an unpopular opinion, but in the years that have followed its release, Lynch’s Dune has proven to be far better than its initial reception may have suggested – or at least appreciated in spite of its clear flaws, being positioned as a work that was reviled based on some of the decisions made by the director. It all comes down to a matter of interpretation, with Dune being one of the most ambitious entries into Lynch’s storied career, an outlier that still somehow highlights his skills as inarguably one of the most original and provocative filmmakers to ever have worked in the medium, and whose approach to his craft was never anything short of spellbinding, even when the results were less than ideal.

Understanding the appeal of a novel like Dune requires realising that we are often drawn to stories that bewitch and bewilder, granted they do so in a way that piques curiosity more than compounds confusion. Herbert’s novel is well-written and accessible, but it has a density that can be a worthy challenge for readers who want something with which they can engage, more than just passively following the story. It seemed inevitable that the opportunity to bring it to the screen would present itself, and it fell to Lynch to take this intimidating text and turn it into something that had dual functions: honouring the source material in a way that appeases the fans of the book, as well as introducing this story to audiences who may not have been able to leap into Herbert’s fascinating world previously. It’s a tall order, but we can see the brilliance from the start, and its themes are not lost on Lynch, who understands the roots of what makes the novel such a landmark piece of writing. Set in the distant future, as well as far from any recognisable planet that we know, the story still somehow manages to resonate through a few key themes – political turmoil, the struggle for power between feuding groups, the commodification of the natural world, the narrow boundary between political influence and cult dominance, as well as more general themes, such as religious belief, familia structure and psychological complexity. These are what inspired Herbert to write the novel, using these elements as the anchor for a story that is bold and uncompromising, particularly in how it presents an expansive, labyrinthine narrative that explores themes far deeper and more profound than we may expect at a glance. This is not some shallow story about intergalactic navigation, but rather a tense political thriller that posits that the utopian future we all imagine is unlikely, and will instead just be an extension of the current, ongoing situation – this is why Dune remains as resonant today as it did when it was first written, and why it continues to be cited as one of the most influential works of science fiction: genre works can only be truly effective if they have something to say, and in both the novel and the film adaptation, we find those themes underlined and reiterated throughout, proving their value.

However, considering the scope of the underlying commentary, we have to wonder whether Lynch was indeed the right person for the material. The one area in which we can assert some criticism on this version of Dune is in the execution of some of its themes. Lynch was a smart director who was always keenly aware of the intricacies of the human condition, and he was not a stranger to larger-than-life stories, nor the creation of entire fictional universes (his efforts on Twin Peaks eclipses just about any other work in terms of sheer scope and complexity when it comes to intricate world-building and the execution of certain core ideas), so he wasn’t a poor fit in terms of working with something on a larger scale, even if his bigger efforts were still on the horizon. However, we do find that the areas in which this adaptation falters come in the decision to compress a relatively long novel into a single film. In an era before film series and trilogies were the foregone conclusion that they are today, there was no guarantee that a sequel would be commissioned, and while this did ultimately prove to be a wise decision on the part of this film, reducing almost the entirety of the novel into just over two hours (when the more recent adaptation split it over more than five hours across two films, while also having to leave out various segments for the sake of running time) did force some of Herbert’s more nuanced details to be elided. The fault is not entirely on Lynch – it is the one project on which he possessed very little artistic control as a result of the producers guiding his hand in addition to working with existing material – but we do notice some of the flaws in terms of realising its core ideas. This doesn’t derail the film by any means, but it can explain why it was never viewed as a definitive adaptation, as well as justifying why it took so long for another attempt to turn this story into a bold cinematic event. There are some that argue that the television adaptation that occurred in between the film versions had the right approach in presenting the story in an episodic format, but it is clear that, as solid as the series may have been, Dune has always been the kind of genre epic that warrants as large of a screen as possible, at least in terms of honouring the enormous scope of Herbert’s work.

Far too much has been written and discussed about the flaws in Lynch’s version, and even this piece seems to be veering in that direction. The reality is that, as imperfect as it may be, there is a reason why Dune has remained popular, even when it is almost universally considered the weakest entry into the director’s unusually strong body of work. Even at its worst, the film is outrageously entertaining and has many fascinating elements that draw us in. We can find this in a few different places, but it’s perhaps best exemplified by the casting. Lynch had developed a strong reputation in the industry, with Eraserhead cited as a revolutionary work, and The Elephant Man being showered with acclaim, officially positioning him as a major voice in American cinema. He most certainly would have had the pick of the litter as far as casting was concerned – but rather than populating the film with an unreasonably star-studded cast, the producers mostly defer to Lynch in terms of choosing people who he believed were the best to take on these roles, even if it meant making some slightly more peculiar decisions in the process. Kyle MacLachlan begins his decades-long personal and professional friendship with Lynch, playing the heroic Paul Atreides with the kind of dashing valour that is necessary for the role. Paul has never been the most compelling character, but rather the anchor of the narrative, and MacLachlan proves to be able to do exactly what was required. He’s joined by a sprawling supporting cast, drawn from different generations, and ranging from major stars who commanded the industry at their peak like José Ferrer, Patrick Stewart and Max Von Sydow, to beloved character actors like Brad Dourif, Linda Hunt and Dean Stockwell, to Lynch regulars like Jack Nance and Freddie Jones (who are perhaps the only category of actors in this film that truly understand what the director was trying to achieve), and even a rare acting performance from Sting, who is unexpectedly strong despite not having done much work in front of the camera. Dune has always been known for its strong characters, and while every actor may be doing something different (some are playing to the rafters, others are focused entirely on subtlety), it makes sense for a story that is essentially a bold mosaic of personalities compressed into a single compelling narrative.

Moreover, one of the other areas of Dune that we can appreciate with equal sincerity is the stylistic choices. Lynch finally had the opportunity to work with a near-unlimited budget, and it shows in every frame, with the director splendouring in the maximalism that he had envisioned for years, finally able to tackle something larger. Considering the themes that we saw Lynch focus on later in his career, there does seem to be a slight mismatch between his usual concepts and those embedded in Herbert’s text, but even when it may not be entirely consistent, there is a grandiosity to this film that we can appreciate. The style alone is worth seeing – naturally, this is a science fiction epic from the mid-1980s, long before the technology that would perfect the genre was widely used, so there are a lot of practical effects, allowing many skilled artisans to elaborate on their skills and creating some of their most memorable work. There is some computer-generated imagery throughout, and while it is understandably quite crude and perhaps even slightly tacky, it all becomes part of the experience. Adherents to the text have criticised Lynch and his cohorts for what they perceive as an overly idiosyncratic, almost mocking approach to the source material, where they believe the offbeat tone and unconventionally quirky filmmaking, filled with bright colours, strange costumes and peculiar characterisation, was almost disrespectful. In fact, the inverse is more likely in this case – Lynch, like everyone involved, chose to take a particular avenue when it came to deciding on the execution, and while we can attribute some of the flaws of the film to the editing (since there have been attempts to recut the film to be more serious, and they do have their merits), the artistry that went into this film shows that it was anything but a trivial endeavour for everyone involved. To hire a director like Lynch, who was the very definition of someone who made a career out of taking bold swings, and giving him the freedom to adapt the novel is naturally going to be risky – and while it’s far from definitive, this is his interpretation of Herbert’s work, and is certainly not without its merits, both visually and narratively.

Without any doubt, Lynch’s version of Dune is the definition of divisive – but unlike others, who attempt to position it as some misunderstood masterpiece with layers of meaning, my official position is that it is indeed a wildly flawed film, but one that contains more than enough merit to make up for its various shortcomings. It is certainly an acquired taste, and the recent adaptations have meant that this version will likely be viewed as the ambitious but flawed first attempt, occupying a specific niche where it becomes more of a novelty than a truly celebrated piece of cinema all on its own. However, this is not necessarily a disadvantage, since it will finally be allowed to flourish as the delightfully strange, offbeat alternative version to the more dour, polished adaptations that may be more faithful on a literary level, but are not nearly as compelling in terms of presenting the natural oddities present in Herbert’s works. Its ultimately a film that does what it intended to do, and while Lynch himself expressed his own personal reservations and regrets about the project, his version of Dune is still admirable in its own way, a bold and audacious attempt at capitalising on a genre that was at its peak, while also honouring an important piece of literature at the same time, which creates a very peculiar dynamic, albeit one that doesn’t always contain the same degree of quiet complexity that we would expect. Hilariously strange and wonderfully captivating in its own way, Dune is a fun film that offers exactly what we’d anticipate – a complex story that is impossible to entirely comprehend (attempting to understand this film and its various nuances is not going to yield particularly positive results, and the viewer is advised to just surrender to the madness), filled with eccentric characters, peculiar scenarios and a genuinely strange perspective that never entirely makes sense, but all forms the foundation of a film that may be a misfire in most ways, but remains a truly good time from a director who was never afraid to take a risk, even when it meant flirting with failure.