Spoiler-free Dune review, followed by spoilery thoughts: Dune part 1 was a great movie; Dune part 2 was a good movie. (The core strengths of the first movie were 1) fantastic art and 2) fidelity to the book; the second movie doesn’t have enough new art to carry its runtime and is stuck in a less interesting part of the plot, IMO, and one where the limitations of being a movie are more significant.)
Dune-the-book is about a lot of things, and I read it as a child, so it holds extra weight in my mind compared to other scifi that I came across when fully formed. One of the ways I feel sort-of-betrayed by Dune is that a lot of the things are fake or bad on purpose; the sandworms are biologically implausible; the ecology of Dune (one of the things it’s often lauded for!) is a cruel trick played on the Fremen (see if you can figure it out, or check the next spoiler block for why); the faith-based power of the Fremen warriors is a mirage; the Voice seems implausible; and so on.
The sandworms, the sole spice-factories in the universe (itself a crazy setting detail, but w/e), are killed by water, and so can only operate in deserts. In order to increase spice production, more of Dune has to be turned into a desert. How is that achieved? By having human caretakers of the planet who believe in a mercantilist approach to water—the more water you have locked away in reservoirs underground, the richer you are. As they accumulate water, the planet dries out, the deserts expand, and the process continues. And even if some enterprising smuggler decides to trade water for spice, the Fremen will just bury the water instead of using it to green the planet.
But anyway, one of the things that Dune-the-book got right is that a lot of the action is mental, and that a lot of what differentiates people is perceptual abilities. Some of those abilities are supernatural—the foresight enabled by spice being the main example—but are exaggerations of real abilities. It is possible to predict things about the world, and Dune depicts the predictions as, like, possibilities seen from a hill, with other hills and mountains blocking the view, in a way that seems pretty reminiscent of Monte Carlo tree search. This is very hard to translate to a movie! They don’t do any better a job of depicting Paul searching thru futures than Marvel did of Doctor Strange searching thru futures, and the climactic fight is a knife battle between a partial precog and a full precog, which is worse than the fistfight in Sherlock Holmes (2009).
And I think this had them cut one of my favorite things from the book, which was sort of load-bearing to the plot. Namely, Hasimir Fenring, a minor character who has a pivotal moment in the final showdown between Paul and the Emperor after being introduced earlier. (They just don’t have that moment.)
Why do do I think he’s so important? (For those who haven’t read the book recently, he’s the emperor’s friend, from one of the bloodlines the Bene Gesserit are cultivating for the Kwisatz Haderach, and the ‘mild-mannered accountant’ sort of assassin.)
The movie does successfully convey that the Bene Gesserit have options. Not everything is riding on Paul. They hint that Paul being there means that the others are close; Feyd talks about his visions, for example.
But I think there’s, like, a point maybe familiar from thinking about AI takeoff speeds / conquest risk, which is: when the first AGI shows up, how sophisticated will the rest of the system be? Will it be running on near-AGI software systems, or legacy systems that are easy to disrupt and replace?
In Dune, with regards to the Kwisatz Haderach, it’s near-AGI. Hasimir Fenring could kill Paul if he wanted to, even after Paul awakes as KH, even after Paul’s army beats the Sardaukar and he reaches the emperor! Paul gets this, Paul gets Hasimir’s lonely position and sterility, and Paul is empathetic towards him; Hasimir can sense Paul’s empathy and they have, like, an acausal bonding moment, and so Hasimir refuses the Emperor’s request to kill Paul. Paul is, in some shared sense, the son he couldn’t have and wanted to.
One of the other subtler things here is—why is Paul so constrained? The plot involves literal wormriding I think in part to be a metaphor for riding historical movements. Paul can get the worship of the Fremen—but they decide what that means, not him, and they decide it means holy war across the galaxy. Paul wishes it could be anything else, but doesn’t see how to change it. I think one of the things preventing him from changing it is the presence of other powerful opposition, where any attempt to soften his movement will be exploited.
Jumping back to a review of the movie (instead of just their choices about the story shared by movie and book), the way it handles the young skeptic vs. old believer Fremen dynamic seems… clumsy? Like “well, we’re making this movie in 2024, we have to cater to audience sensibilities”. Paul mansplains sandwalking to Chani, in a moment that seems totally out of place, and intended to reinforce the “this is a white guy where he doesn’t belong” narrative that clashes with the rest of the story. (Like, it only makes sense as him trolling his girlfriend, which I think is not what it’s supposed to be / how it’s supposed to be interpreted?) He insists that he’s there to learn from the Fremen / the planet is theirs, but whether this is a cynical bid for their loyalty or his true feeling is unclear. (Given him being sad about the holy war bit, you’d think that sadness might bleed over into what the Fremen want from him more generally.) Chani is generally opposed to viewing him as a prophet / his more power-seeking moves, and is hopefully intended as a sort of audience stand-in; rooting for Paul but worried about what he’s becoming. But the movie is about the events that make up Paul’s campaign against the Harkonnen, not the philosophy or how anyone feels about it at more than a surface level.
Relatedly, Paul blames Jessica for fanning the flames of fanaticism, but this doesn’t engage with that this is what works on them, or that it’s part of the overall narrow-path-thru. In general, Paul seems to do a lot of “being sad about doing the harmful thing, but not in a way that stops him from doing the harmful thing”, which… self-awareness is not an excuse?
Spoiler-free Dune review, followed by spoilery thoughts: Dune part 1 was a great movie; Dune part 2 was a good movie. (The core strengths of the first movie were 1) fantastic art and 2) fidelity to the book; the second movie doesn’t have enough new art to carry its runtime and is stuck in a less interesting part of the plot, IMO, and one where the limitations of being a movie are more significant.)
Dune-the-book is about a lot of things, and I read it as a child, so it holds extra weight in my mind compared to other scifi that I came across when fully formed. One of the ways I feel sort-of-betrayed by Dune is that a lot of the things are fake or bad on purpose; the sandworms are biologically implausible; the ecology of Dune (one of the things it’s often lauded for!) is a cruel trick played on the Fremen (see if you can figure it out, or check the next spoiler block for why); the faith-based power of the Fremen warriors is a mirage; the Voice seems implausible; and so on.
The sandworms, the sole spice-factories in the universe (itself a crazy setting detail, but w/e), are killed by water, and so can only operate in deserts. In order to increase spice production, more of Dune has to be turned into a desert. How is that achieved? By having human caretakers of the planet who believe in a mercantilist approach to water—the more water you have locked away in reservoirs underground, the richer you are. As they accumulate water, the planet dries out, the deserts expand, and the process continues. And even if some enterprising smuggler decides to trade water for spice, the Fremen will just bury the water instead of using it to green the planet.
But anyway, one of the things that Dune-the-book got right is that a lot of the action is mental, and that a lot of what differentiates people is perceptual abilities. Some of those abilities are supernatural—the foresight enabled by spice being the main example—but are exaggerations of real abilities. It is possible to predict things about the world, and Dune depicts the predictions as, like, possibilities seen from a hill, with other hills and mountains blocking the view, in a way that seems pretty reminiscent of Monte Carlo tree search. This is very hard to translate to a movie! They don’t do any better a job of depicting Paul searching thru futures than Marvel did of Doctor Strange searching thru futures, and the climactic fight is a knife battle between a partial precog and a full precog, which is worse than the fistfight in Sherlock Holmes (2009).
And I think this had them cut one of my favorite things from the book, which was sort of load-bearing to the plot. Namely, Hasimir Fenring, a minor character who has a pivotal moment in the final showdown between Paul and the Emperor after being introduced earlier. (They just don’t have that moment.)
Why do do I think he’s so important? (For those who haven’t read the book recently, he’s the emperor’s friend, from one of the bloodlines the Bene Gesserit are cultivating for the Kwisatz Haderach, and the ‘mild-mannered accountant’ sort of assassin.)
The movie does successfully convey that the Bene Gesserit have options. Not everything is riding on Paul. They hint that Paul being there means that the others are close; Feyd talks about his visions, for example.
But I think there’s, like, a point maybe familiar from thinking about AI takeoff speeds / conquest risk, which is: when the first AGI shows up, how sophisticated will the rest of the system be? Will it be running on near-AGI software systems, or legacy systems that are easy to disrupt and replace?
In Dune, with regards to the Kwisatz Haderach, it’s near-AGI. Hasimir Fenring could kill Paul if he wanted to, even after Paul awakes as KH, even after Paul’s army beats the Sardaukar and he reaches the emperor! Paul gets this, Paul gets Hasimir’s lonely position and sterility, and Paul is empathetic towards him; Hasimir can sense Paul’s empathy and they have, like, an acausal bonding moment, and so Hasimir refuses the Emperor’s request to kill Paul. Paul is, in some shared sense, the son he couldn’t have and wanted to.
One of the other subtler things here is—why is Paul so constrained? The plot involves literal wormriding I think in part to be a metaphor for riding historical movements. Paul can get the worship of the Fremen—but they decide what that means, not him, and they decide it means holy war across the galaxy. Paul wishes it could be anything else, but doesn’t see how to change it. I think one of the things preventing him from changing it is the presence of other powerful opposition, where any attempt to soften his movement will be exploited.
Jumping back to a review of the movie (instead of just their choices about the story shared by movie and book), the way it handles the young skeptic vs. old believer Fremen dynamic seems… clumsy? Like “well, we’re making this movie in 2024, we have to cater to audience sensibilities”. Paul mansplains sandwalking to Chani, in a moment that seems totally out of place, and intended to reinforce the “this is a white guy where he doesn’t belong” narrative that clashes with the rest of the story. (Like, it only makes sense as him trolling his girlfriend, which I think is not what it’s supposed to be / how it’s supposed to be interpreted?) He insists that he’s there to learn from the Fremen / the planet is theirs, but whether this is a cynical bid for their loyalty or his true feeling is unclear. (Given him being sad about the holy war bit, you’d think that sadness might bleed over into what the Fremen want from him more generally.) Chani is generally opposed to viewing him as a prophet / his more power-seeking moves, and is hopefully intended as a sort of audience stand-in; rooting for Paul but worried about what he’s becoming. But the movie is about the events that make up Paul’s campaign against the Harkonnen, not the philosophy or how anyone feels about it at more than a surface level.
Relatedly, Paul blames Jessica for fanning the flames of fanaticism, but this doesn’t engage with that this is what works on them, or that it’s part of the overall narrow-path-thru. In general, Paul seems to do a lot of “being sad about doing the harmful thing, but not in a way that stops him from doing the harmful thing”, which… self-awareness is not an excuse?