Long before I sat down in a theater to watch it, I knew I was going to love Dune: Part Two, Denis Villeneuve’s second film in his take on the epic 1965 sci-fi novel from Frank Herbert. I’ve read the first book several times, finished the subsequent sequels, caught several viewings of David Lynch’s Dune, and even watched Jodorowsky’s Dune, the documentary about a failed first attempt to translate the novel to screen.
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My affection for the film was a near-guarantee—but when I walked out of the Angelika Theater last night, my eyes struggling to adjust to the city lights, I was in a state of awe. Dune: Part Two was like nothing I’ve ever seen before: a blockbuster that dares to have taste, style, and substance.
Dune 2 is the new standard for blockbuster films
When I think of a blockbuster movie, I think of The Lord of the Rings, or the Star Wars series, or the deluge of bombastic Marvel flicks that propped up the film industry for over a decade until we all got sick of them. Because of the Marvel-ification of these kinds of movies, I think of budgets in the hundreds of millions and casts that boast enough A-list actors to field an American football team. Because of films like The Rise of Skywalker, I also think of muddy, CGI-heavy schlock, questionable editing decisions, and unsatisfactory endings. I think of how The Hobbit pales in comparison to The Fellowship of the Ring, of how the term “blockbuster” has become synonymous with “mostly shit.”
But now, because of Dune: Part Two (and, in some ways, Barbie or The Batman), the blockbuster can be good again. Now, I think of scenes so massive in scale they render you speechless, of set and costume designs worthy of museum exhibits, of visuals that feel more art-house than mainstream. Every inch of Dune: Part Two is dripping with style, every scene is jam-packed with substance—this is what the movie gods intended when they gave Villeneuve $190 million to make the film (for comparison, The Rise of Skywalker cost $416 million to be a piece of shit).
The beauty and brilliance of the Dune sequel are perfectly encapsulated in the scenes that take place on Giedi Prime, the homeworld of the evil Harkonnen family, led by Baron Vladimir Harkonnen (Stellan Skarsgård). Strikingly, Giedi Prime’s exterior shots are in black and white, thanks to the black sun upon which the planet orbits. The massive coliseum in which the Baron’s nephew Feyd-Rautha (Austin Butler) fights drugged-up prisoners for sport feels impossibly large, its size unimaginable, its stark black-and-whiteness further disorienting—almost hypnotizing—the viewer.
When the scheming, enshrouded Bene Gesserit witches stride through a special seating area, the scene shifts from full color to black and white as they draw closer to the fighting pit, and the black sun casts its light on their faces. During the battle, fireworks explode in the sky around the arena, discharging black splotches like Villeneuve tipped a jar of ink onto a few film panels. It was at this moment during my viewing that a murmur of awe traveled through the theater.
This scene is both visually breathtaking and narratively important (we learn about the dynamic between Feyd and the Baron, understand the Bene Gesserit’s intentions, and see the true depravity of Giedi Prime and its people), a rare feat for a modern blockbuster. And guess what? Every. Scene. Is. Like. That.
Dune: Part Two never falters, or stumbles, or drags; no scene feels too indulgent, no digital effect disarms enough to remove you from the fantasy. From the opening moment until the credits roll, you are pulled along on the sandworm ride, sand pelting your face, wind whipping in your ears, thumpers beating an ancient cadence in your chest cavity. It is a truly astonishing feat of modern cinema, a testament to the power of a singular vision uncompromised by bloated budgets or superhero capes, a film deserving of the reverence bestowed upon greats like The Empire Strikes Back and The Godfather.