Dune (1984)

I never read the books and have no intention of it, but with any film based on a novel, it either stands on its own or bores you with reverence to the original work. Oddly enough, Dune does both: in the incomprehensible theatrical release directed by David Lynch, and an extended remix intended to sort out Lynch’s mess directed by Alan Smithee (an industry pseudonym used by Lynch to protest tampering with the film). Either way, Dune was six years in the making and plucked Lynch from #1 cult director status to total sellout cocksucking whorebag.

Dune is beautiful, but getting to the end just feels like homework. Who CARES about these people and their messiah complex. And how many prophesies turn out EXACTLY as foretold! Glacially boring. No surprises. Colonialism never looked so good, but badguys are fat and warty. Goodguys are athletic and pseudo-spiritual. That desert planet you’ve heard about? It has water, lots and lots of water. Never rains on Arrakus — oops until it rains. Oh, well. The prophesy says a BenniJesuit woman will have a son who becomes the Maudib, and HERE THEY ARE, the only mother/son BenniJesuit team in the universe. Could THEY be the ones??? Hmmm, what a stretch….

Once again Sean Young (who I hate with a passion) turns in a squeeky flat performance. She wasn’t convincing as a robot in Bladerunner, she’s no more convincing as an exotic desert native here. Virgina Madsen (who can do no wrong) is wasted as the Emperor’s daughter. She is the voice of the book and Lynch makes her the narrator of his version — although, the film’s probably in trouble if you need a narrator…. All her lines are cut from the Alan Smithee remix for some reason, despite using an even longer narration (and chalk drawings!) to try to explain the plot to bewildered viewers. Kyle MacLachlan is kinda pretty in the face but like most actresses he is unable to crack an expression for fear of getting crowsfeet. I have to mention the MANY MANY scenes where he lies feverish in bed tossing and turning, saying things like “Father… Desert… Spice…Noooo…” The direction is goofball with or without a re-edit.

But Lynch shouldn’t be completely dismissed as a sellout. He is a devout believer in the “Emperor’s New Clothes” style of filmmaking: if you keep things confusing enough, people will believe they are seeing great art they don’t fully understand, rather than bad art that has no meaning — it’s a showman’s technique, a la PT Barnum. Lynch injects plenty of actor-y silliness, like voguing hand-gestures while instructions are spoken in deadpan (which seems a bit more baseball than bizarre), and a scene where Fat Harkonan pulls the heartplug out of a workers chest and goobles up the blood in sexual glee (somehow absent from the Smythee version which was intended for television). To be honest, Lynch’s signature diversions are the more interesting moments of the film since they no doubt detour from Frank Herbert’s one-note passionplay, and occasionally liven up the frame. There is more there there.

Dino De Laurentiis was a visionary in design, but not so good at filmmaking. He had a habit of basing his films on magnificent art direction and then, almost as an afterthought, buying whatever trendy young director is willing to sell his soul. Dune is no exception. Costumes are brilliant. Interiors are impressive. The Emperor has a cadre of old generals in regal uniforms with random metal prosthetics (nose, skull), meanwhile the Emperor’s throneroom is regal pretense straight from a Napoleonic wetdream. The Harkonan planet is cubic-industrial on the level of the Borg: a toxic worker’s waste in acid green and deco iron. Meanwhile the noble Duke’s castle is a cozy library of smoky wood veneer and nouveau windows. Winged light fixtures lazily float from room to room following the Duke’s family with theatrical spotlights. Did I say Gorgeous?

So who’s to blame for this painful bomb? Lynch and De Laurentiis are each responsible for some of the most memorable highs and lows of fantasy cinema. Neither film is a success, although given a choice I’d watch the deconstructionist Lynch version just because it’s shorter, the actual story isn’t that interesting anyway…. A half decade would pass before Lynch recovered his cult status with Twin Peaks, and De Laurentiis never cashed in on a space opera franchise in the wake of StarWars, but his Conan series faired better…. Check out the marvelous Flash Gordan for another De Laurentiis bomb where everything went right.