“Think on it, Chani: that princess will have the name, yet she’ll live as less than a concubine—never to know a moment of tenderness from the man to whom she’s bound. While we, Chani, we who carry the name of concubine—history will call us wives.”
Frank Herbert, Dune (last line)
I am so incredibly stoked to see this movie. Dune is, in my opinion, the most perfect science fiction novel ever written, and Dune: Part 1 was perhaps the most perfect adaptation of the novel that could have been made, let alone the best adaptation. And this trailer is one of the best that I’ve ever seen. Really looking forward to seeing the sandworms on the big screen!
So Mrs. Vasicek and I saw the new Dune movie in theaters last weekend, and let me just say, it was awesome in every sense of the word!
Speaking as someone who’s read the novel three times and fervently believes it to be the most perfect science fiction book ever written, this movie did not disappoint. Not only is it the best movie adaptation of the book, hands down, but it may be the best adaptation that it’s possible to make of the book. Denis Villeneuve has done for Dune what Peter Jackson did for Lord of the Rings. It’s incredible.
With all of that said, I’m not sure if the movie would make much sense to anyone who hasn’t already read the book first. Dune is really a story within a story within a story, and while the movie captures that aspect quite well, it also touches very, very lightly on the outlying stories, which could be confusing for someone who isn’t already familiar with the novel. Even in my first read, I didn’t fully appreciate the complexity: it took two rereads before I began to grasp the full significance of all of the moving parts.
At its heart, Dune is about the struggle of Paul Atreides (the Chosen One) to push back against his destiny, because he knows that his success will be far more devastating, for him and for the galaxy, than his failure. In that, it’s a brilliant subversion (in the truest sense) of the hero cycle. But all of that takes place within the story of the Bene Gesserit and their quest to create the Kwisatz Haderach, a super-human who can see the past, present, and future all at once. But the Bene Gesserit scheming is all happening within the political intrigue of the Great Houses and the Imperium, specifically with the feud between House Atreides (which presents the greatest threat to the emperor) and House Harkonnen—and all three stories converge on the planet Arrakis, amidst the struggle of the Fremen to terraform their desert world into a lush, green paradise when all of the powers of the galaxy want to exploit it for the spice that is so important for interstellar space travel.
For someone who is already familiar with all of that from the book, the movie hits on all of those nested stories perfectly, without getting bogged down or missing the most important story of all: Paul’s internal struggle with his own destiny. But for someone who is new to all of that, the movie might be really confusing. It will be really interesting to hear what my Dad thinks of it, because he’s never read the book and he plans to stream the movie over Thanksgiving break. I’ll report back when I hear his reaction.
Some people are criticizing the movie for ending at the wrong place, but I actually think it ended at the exact right spot: where Paul becomes one of the Fremen by killing his first man in a duel. It’s subtle, but the whole movie builds up perfectly to that moment, making Paul’s character arc the central driving story arc. For me, it didn’t feel at all like I’d only gotten half a movie, or that the director was drawing the story out to make it into a trilogy. It felt very natural to end the story there, and a great set-up for the sequel, which should wrap up Dune itself. The third movie will conclude Paul’s story by giving us Dune Messiah, which should be really interesting, since the first movie actually did a lot to set that up. If the second movie is as good as the first, then the third one may actually be better than the book.
It’s become very fashionable these days to cast a major character as an ethnic minority, which can be really annoying. However, I wasn’t all that bothered by the decision to cast Doctor Kynes as a black woman. It did some interesting things for the character that I thought worked really well for the story, and for Paul’s relationship with Kynes. So even though that was the movie taking license from the book, I felt like it was a really good call.
One criticism that I do tend to agree with is that the characters feel a lot more like archetypes than like real people. That’s fair, not only for the movie, but for the book. My wife says that’s the main reason why she didn’t like the book, because none of the characters felt “real” to her. But that focus on archetypes is something I really enjoyed about the book, so it wasn’t as big of a problem for me with the movie.
Another point of criticism that my wife had was that neither the movie nor the book have a whole lot of joy. That’s also fair: the movie does tend to hit the same emotional notes over and over, without much variation. The most humorous part was where the Reverend Mother tells Paul “farewell, young human. I hope you live,” which wasn’t actually meant as a joke (and Mrs. Vasicek and I are totally going to use that line on our own baby from now on).
But it really did hit the sense of wonder quite spectacularly, not just with the big things like the desert and the sandworms, but the fine details like the control systems of the ornithopters, or the grittiness of the stillsuits and the spice mining equipment. It really does stick with you long after you’ve watched the movie, and makes you want to watch it over and over.
All I can say more is that I’m really, really, really looking forward to the next one!
So the problem I have with most “ecological science fiction” is that it draws almost exclusively on the ideas of Malthusian economics—essentially, the argument that Thanos was right. The problem with this is that Malthusian theory has been disproven by every generation of humans to live on this planet for the last 150 years. It’s even more discredited than Marxism, which is another unscientific philosophy that “ecological science fiction” draws heavily from.
I remember an old 70s novel I picked up from the local used bookstore, where by the year 2000, Earth had warmed so much that Antarctica was the only habitable continent, and resources were so scarce that the main character—a buxom blonde—had to go topless. Yeah, very 70s. The premise of the novel was so absurd on its face that I couldn’t finish it.
I also remember an Octavia Butler book that I read. It was the sort of book that makes you chuck it at the wall once you’re finished. The plot went something like this: the main character has been abducted by aliens and drafted into their breeding program, and she spends the whole book trying to escape, only to learn that she’s already pregnant and never will. The end. The writing was pretty good, but the story was so horribly unsatisfying that I haven’t read anything by her since.
From what I can tell, most “ecological science fiction” is like that. Very pretty sentences, but horribly unsatisfying stories, with way too much preaching about how capitalism is evil and humans are destroying the planet. That’s probably why these books tend to win so many Hugo Awards.
Red Mars was okay, but it was less about Earth and more about Mars itself. I was personally more interested in the political intrigue among the colonists than the terraforming project, but both were pretty good. The characters all seemed a little bland to me, though, and I never really latched on to any of them, which is probably why I didn’t read the other books. From what I can tell, they got more preachy toward the end.
Everyone praises Dune for being an “ecological” novel, but to be frankly honest I never really got into that. The political intrigue and the struggle of Paul Atreides with his prescience was a lot more interesting to me, and while the ecological bits certainly played into the plot, I didn’t really care enough to pay much attention to that.
Also, the parts that I did pick up seemed pretty unbelievable to me. From what I remember, there was a second, much smaller type of worm that produced a certain kind of excretion which, if mixed with the spice, would cause a chain reaction that would completely destroy the Arrakis ecosystem. Something like Kurt Vonnegut’s ice 9, which instantaneously freezes any water it comes into contact with, which makes it the most dangerous substance on Earth because a single drop could freeze all the water on the planet. In my (albeit limited) experience, ecosystems always find their own equilibrium, which makes them resiliant against that sort of thing. But of course, that would probably interfere with the preaching that “ecological science fiction” tends to indulge in.
From what I can tell, Dune is one of the few pieces of “ecological science fiction” that hasn’t aged poorly, and that’s not because of the “ecological” bits, but in spite of them. Because the truth is that we live in a fantastically rich and abundant post-scarcity world, where “global warming” had to rebrand as “climate change” because none of the predictions came true, and the science has been so ridiculously politicized that the Green New Deal makes the Communist Manifesto look sane and reasonable.
Thanos was wrong. So too, apparently, is the entire field of “ecological science fiction.”
In Future Mrs. Vasicek’s writing group, we were talking about plotting and I remarked that plotting didn’t seem to be one of Frank Herbert’s strengths in Dune. Looking back on it, though, I think that the plot was pretty solid, but he chose to focus on other things instead—such as all of the machinations and ultimate downfalls of all of the characters, which Extra Credits discusses in this video.
When they brough up the “competent man” trope in the last season, and argued against it, I wasn’t quite sure how to take it. I know people in real life who fit the competent man trope very well, and who actually live up to Heinlein’s ideal:
A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.
In this episode, the folks at Extra Credits argue that Herbert subverts the competent man trope in Dune by showing a bunch of characters who fit that trope failing because they fit it too perfectly. But as you can see from the quote above, that’s actually not the case.
The empaths and mentats in Dune are specialists. In fact, the world of Dune is full of specialists, from the pilots of the spacing guild to the Imperial Sardaukar to the Bene Gesserit—even the Fremen, to a certain extent, are specialists rather than Heinleinian competent men.
The video isn’t wrong to point out that specialization and hubris is the ultimate cause of all of these characters’ downfall. But they miss the trope when they argue that this is a critique of Heinlein and golden age science fiction. If anything, it’s a vindication. Heinlein’s competent man is all about being a jack of all trades, master of one (or two, or half a dozen, as the case may be). In Dune, the characters who do best are the ones who figure this out.
I do have to say, though, it’s kind of fun to revisit Dune, seeing as it’s been so long since the last time I read it. Future Mrs. Vasicek didn’t like the book at all, but I enjoyed it, especially on the second read. Very few things made sense on the first read. My favorite character is probably Jessica, though the folks at Extra Credits are absolutely right about the way that Yueh played her.