Dune (1984) Glory in Failure

“A beginning is a very delicate time.” Princess Irulan.

It is not casually that David Lynch refers to his 1984 film Dune, adapted from the novel by Frank Herbet, as the only real ‘failure’ of his career. Whatever you may think of the film it is, as all films are, a work of art and art rarely lends itself to binary metrics like ‘pass’ or ‘fail’. Certainly, commercial art can be financial failure, which Dune was; grossing only $30 million against a budget of $40 million. But this is David Lynch we’re talking about and while many of the surrealist’s films have been commercial successes that’s never been the focus of his artistic intent. Indeed, Lynch’s work, more than that of most directors, is so open to interpretation that it feels impossible to label any one of them a failure. Lynch’s work defies traditional concepts of success; is the story to be coherent, is its meaning interpretable, even simply understanding the raw emotions it provokes are warranted? The answers these questions are often wildly divided in the wake of each new film by the director. Yet from Blue Velvet to Wild at Heart to even Fire Walk With Me they all find their audience eventually.

So why is Dune, having since achieved the Lynchian Cult Status, still scorned by its director? Why are the likes of Lost Highway and Wild at Heart misunderstood masterpieces while some versions of Dune have had Lynch’s name removed entirely at his behest? It’s a mess certainly; the story is badly mangled, the effects are laughably cheap, the performances boarder on melodramatic and its portrayal of the villains veer uncomfortably towards homophobic. Yet at the same time it’s utterly unlike any other science fiction film produced at the time. The film remains true to Frank Herbert’s vision and consistently displays the fact that the source material is patient zero for an entire generation of Sci-Fi. So why does Lynch consider still it a failure? The answer lies in the decisions made far behind the scenes of the film. The actions which led to Lynch’s hiring, which gave the film the unique aesthetic that earns it much-deserved praise today. However, those same decisions resulted in the films production and release in being such a messy affair. To understand why these decisions were made we have to understand exactly what producers Dino and Rafaella Di Laurentiis were trying to accomplish. In short, we have to go right back to the beginning, long before the year 10191; to a newly published author in his thirties, witnessing an empire hold back a tide of sand.

Frank Herbert began researching ‘Dune’ in 1959 after a trip to the sand dunes near Florence, Oregon. A vast expanse of desert stretching for miles into the distance with some dunes towering five-hundred feet into the sky. This was where the United States Department of Agriculture were attempting to control the tides of sand by introducing new species of grass. The article that Herbert was assigned to write on the project would never be completed, but the idea of the state attempting to tame such an indomitable natural phenomenon became the impetus for ‘Dune’. A sprawling science fiction epic about an Empire, dominated by feudal houses and a capitalist guild. The fuel of this empire would be the Spice Melange; a mysterious substance found only on the desert planet Arrakis, a substance capable of powering starships, of expanding human consciousness and mutating those addicted to it into strange, psychic creatures. Our protagonist in this epic is Paul Atreides; a prince of a noble house who is exiled on Arrakis. There he finds shelter with the natives, the Fremen, and leads them in an uprising against those who betrayed House Atreides. Ending their control of the Spice.

                Herbert drew on a wide range of subjects beyond ecology to craft the rich world of ‘Dune’. The novel is set during the reign of the Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV and his quasi-feudal power structure. The decline of this empire, blamed largely on the excesses of the Emperor and his loyal servant Baron Harkonnen, closely resembles that of Ancient Rome. However, at every level of authority in the series are the Bene Gesserit; a secretive, matriarchal order with the goal of directing humanity onto what they believe to be the ‘enlightened path’.  In the Bene Gesserit, right down to the name, Herbert draws comparisons to the religious order of the Catholic Church known as the ‘Jesuits’. Frank Herbert was himself raised as a Catholic, largely by his Jesuit mother and ten Jesuit Aunts. Herbert rejected his family’s attempts to force Catholicism onto him much in the same way that Paul rejects the Bene Gesserit in favour of the Fremen spirituality, with its influences in Zen Buddhism While the simplistic nature worship of the Fremen people is viewed as benevolent, Herbert unmistakably paints the Bene Gesserits with shades of Catholic colonialism. Breeding acolytes across the known universe, supplanting the native populations of its many worlds, including Arrakis. Their overarching goal is to give birth to the Kwisatz Haderach (a Hebrew term meaning ‘the one in many places at once’), a male Bene Gesserit and messianic figure. To achieve this the order has been selectively cultivating key genes among the bloodlines of the great houses across countless generations.  Paul Atreides, is the realisation of this dream; born a generation early by the Lady Jessica, Duke Leto’s Bene Gesserit concubine.

                In contrast to the Bene Gesserit, the Fremen culture is a hybrid of eastern religions; Zen Buddhism and Sunni Islam. Herbert drew from contemporary Islam by referring to their crusade against the Harkonnens as a ‘jihad’. This coupled with the Spice Melange serving as an allegory for oil solidifies the Fremen’s role as analogous to the Mujahedeen; the Muslim Warriors forced to defend Afghanistan against Western powers seeking to claim their oil. Their reverence for the Spice is based on its ability to expand their minds and grant them power; reminiscent of the Zen philosophy of enhancing oneself through mindfulness and mediation.

                In ‘Dune’ then we have a mainstream film, produced in the West which is highly critical of Western policies of colonialization, religious indoctrination and rampant consumption of precious natural resources. All while favouring a decidedly Eastern religion analogous to a people who were, at the time, Soviet allies. And that’s before you get to the scale of the story; spanning the known universe and its esoteric science fiction elements. That’s already a messy prospect for any studio, regardless of the calibre of the source material. Yet that is the baggage that Dino Di Laurentiis was taking on when he secured the rights to the novel in 1976. He purchased the option from Jean-Paul Gibon who had been famously struggling to get an adaptation of the book made with Alejandro Jodorosky. Detailed in the 2013 documentary Jodorowsky’s Dune; the Chilean filmmaker planned an ambitious, mind-expanding adaptation with huge gothic fortresses designed by H.R. Giger, single takes which would cover the entirety of the known universe and a cast including David Carradine, Salvador Dali, Orson Wells and Mick Jagger. After months of planning and fundraising the project collapsed, with no studio willing to trust the highly experimental Jodorowsky. Had it been made it would have likely been a more coherent version than Lynch’s highly compromised effort. However, it would have also likely been much, much longer, with Jodorowsky suggesting runtimes of up to 14 hours. With long sections dedicated to exploring the influence of spice on the universe and drug trip-inspired visual montages.

                What we got instead was a David Lynch’s highly compromised version. A film that tried to cram the entirety of Frank Herbert’s dense drama into a conventional white saviour narrative. All within a runtime of little over two hours at Universal studios’ behest. This was 1984 remember; Star Wars had made its debut seven years earlier and studios were still playing catch-up, trying to find their science fiction epic to break box office records. But while the novel displays many traits that would clearly influence Star Wars creator George Lucas, Dune was never Star Wars. It was never traditional heroic narrative with its morality in black and white. It didn’t have the same influences that Star Wars in its pastiche of pulp science fiction serials, samurai films or World War Two allegory. But rather it was a complex epic about the political machinations of a galactic empire covering themes of ecology, spirituality, resource scarcity and human conciseness. Topped with controversial allegories for contemporary political powers and religions.

It should come as no surprise then that an early rough cut of the film ran over four hours. Universal Studios all but marched Lynch and Di Laurentiis into the editing booth to dramatically reduce the film’s runtime. Entire subplots from the book such as Gurney’s Halleck’s suspicion of Jessica, Thufur Hawat’s captivity with the Harkonnen’s or Paul’s son with the Fremen Chani, were removed entirely. Virginia Madsen’s role as the Princess Irulan, who in the novel is key to Paul’s coup against the Emperor, was reduced to that of a glorified extra. In an attempt to keep the plot coherent new scenes were shot entirely that condensed several pages of plot into a few lines of dialogue. Most of the cast, even minor players, provide a voice over narration and an introduction by Madsen was hastily shot. This monologue was intended to establish the structure of Dune’s universe and the nature of the Spice Melange. In reality, it did little to ease audience’s understanding of the film, though it is possible that this was the inspiration to the ‘Log Lady’ intros that featured on some DVD versions of Twin Peaks. Which comes as some small consolation.

                It’s not hard to see how these changes impacted on the film’s overall quality. While the voice-overs work to spoon-feed the dense plot to the audience we are still being introduced to esoteric terms like ‘Sardaukar’, ‘Gom Jabbar’ and ‘Kwisatz Haderach’ at a frightening pace. With little explanation as to their meaning, unless the cinema was kind enough to include a glossary (which some did). The story opens with a meeting between the Emperor of the Universe and a representative of the Space Guild, depicted as a gigantic mutant within a stasis vat. Yet we never establish who these characters are or why they are important to the plot.  Moreover, the voice-overs are generally dedicated to communicating the emotional states of their respective characters. Shifts in perspective and character that would be far more satisfying to see visually, through the performance of the actors or a subtle score. Whole chapters of exposition and world-building are reduced to a handful of scenes. Resulting in one unintentionally amusing instance of Dr Keynes explaining how the Fremen stillsuits recycle urinate and faeces to Duke Leto, while he’s still retaking the Harkonnen stronghold.

This is how Dune is able to cover all of the essential plot points of the novel; yet at the same time feel somewhat insubstantial. Information comes at us in far too great a rush for an audience to absorb. ‘Dune’ the novel takes place over the course of over two years and takes the time to (no pun intended) space out it’s plot. Allowing us to understand the Duke’s acclimatisation to Arrakis, the planning of House Harkonnen’s attack and Paul’s indoctrination into the ways of the Fremen people. His drinking of the Water of Life is several pages of Paul’s understanding of the universe expanding before our eyes. Represented in the film by a few dissolves of water droplets as Kyle Maclachlan’s zealous voice-over plays while the actor repeatedly throws his head back to expose his 20^th century fillings. The film feels like it is missing time to breathe, to let these moments sink in, to make Arrakis feel like a real world, rather than a few sections of the Mexican desert.

This raises the question then of; if Dune is such a mess, why do I and many others still love it? While I’ll freely admit to being a devotee of Lynch, this is not simply affection by association. That said I would argue that Lynch is enough of a surrealist to bring the surreal aspects of Frank Herbet’s vision to life. Take the production design for example. Lynch’s work often equates industrial environments with corruption; think Spencer’s apartment in Eraserhead or the dockyard in Blue Velvet. And none of Lynch’s locations rank as more corrupt than the Harkonnen homeworld of Geidi Prime. A grimy, steamy factory planet, with a greenish tint sicklier than a Borg Cube. The Emperor’s chamber resembles the Baroque architecture of the Russian Empire. The Guild Navigators are both alien and remote, often confined within stasis tanks or armor of thick black. An on-point representation of the inhumane nature of capitalism. Here Lynch succeeds in creating a world that is utterly alien to our own and yet, reminiscent of the worst eras in our history. The peoples and factions of Dune are human, but not as we know them.

Speaking of humans, I’ve mentioned the stolid performances before however this is less of an outright negative as one might think. Yes, it completely removes the audience’s ability to engage with the characters however it does remain true to the story. As Paul Atreides, Kyle Maclachlan is every bit Duke in waiting; with an air of regal nobility with youthful exuberance. His entire performance captures the energy of Paul, but also a capability that will come to serve him as the leader of the Fremen. His arrogance is charming because we see that it is matched by ability. While the portrayal of the Baron Harkonnen is off-putting; his queerness made explicit by Lynch and the pustules on his face reminiscent of AIDs victims. Still, it is undeniable that Kenneth McMillan brings a strong sense of hostility and excess to the role. To say nothing of esteemed character actors including; Max Von Sydow, Brad Dourif and of course Patrick Stewart. All of whom are doing the best with the material they have been given. Even Virginia Madsen performs well as the ethereal Princess Iluran, even if she barely registers as a character beyond her capacity as narrator. In fact Madsen’s role could be seen as a microcosm of the film’s problem as a whole. Everyone was in such a rush to make sure that the story came across clearly enough that that no one ever gave thought to how to engage, amuse or even entertain the audience. Just as the film’s pace never offers us a reprieve to absorb the story, the character are never given a moment that isn’t rigidly serving the story.

Finally, there is the film’s score, produced by the rock band Toto, with contributions from Brian Eno. Aesthetically speaking this is possibly the most appreciable aspect of the film without any negative drawback to it. Chiming into our ears at the tail end of Madsen’s narration, at her mere mention of the planet ‘Dune’. The long, booming brass instruments serving as a portent for what awaits the Atreides on Arrakis. Immediately introducing it as a place of death. As we pull out the brass fades into softer, more heightened tones, giving us a sense of the infinite wonder that the ‘Dune’ universe holds. The score returns when Paul first mounts one of the great sandworms of Arrakis, this time transitioning into full-blown electric guitar. As though finally understanding its roots in the same pulpy science fiction works that inspired Flash Gordon. One might wonder if Dune would have been better received on release had this campy, energetic tone been present throughout the film.

 Dune is a failure, yes. However, it’s the kind of failure you only get with an indomitable drive to realise a singular vision. Dune was born out of an attempt to realise Frank Herbert’s vision and to make, as Madsen later claimed; “Star Wars for grown-ups’. In essence a trilogy of films that would have the worldwide appeal of Lucas’s franchise but with the maturity and melodrama of De Laurentiis’s more prestigious pictures such as Serpico, Ragtime and Three Days of the Condor. Unfortunately, it was too late that anyone realised that those two identities were utterly incompatible. Yes, ‘Dune’ inspired a generation of epic science fiction, widely seen as the genre’s equivalent to ‘Lord of the Rings’. Its influences can be seen in everything from not only Star Wars but also films such as Alien and Contact, the novels of Robert Jordan, Warhammer 40k and the band Iron Maiden. However, all of these are, for the most parts, works with niche audiences. For all its merits Dune was never going to attract the size of audiences drawn to mainstream sensations, nor the critical acclaim bestowed on prestige cinema.     

 You have to sympathise with Lynch and his own admission that he was ‘selling out on Dune’ in allowing De Laurentiis and Universal to have final cut. However, it’s clear from both the finished product and subsequent accounts that the studio was never trying to take Lynch’s film away from him. Rather they were trying to hammer out something, anything, of a releasable standard from a project that was a mess from the offing. Perhaps simply trying to fit the entirely of ‘Dune’ into one film was always destined to fail. We’ll find out in late 2020 when Denis Villenueve’s take on the project is released. Then again, Villenueve has proven himself capable of making the kind of critically acclaimed science fiction that Dune once aspired to be. Maybe, just maybe, Dune 2020 can learn from its predecessor’s mistake and the influence of Frank Herbet’s novel can roll ever on, like the moving sands of Oregon.