The blockbuster is at an inflection point.
While still the holy grail of the theater-driven Hollywood system, what constitutes a successful blockbuster is in flux. Presumed sure box office bets, like Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning, Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, and two of the latest MCU offerings underperformed. Meanwhile, Barbie and Oppenheimer, two films that could be qualified as blockbusters, albeit with an auteurist air, became Oscar-nominated, billion-dollar-grossing cultural juggernauts. One pivotal part of the blockbuster conversation is budgeting and whether a film can justify its exorbitant production cost. The trend of ballooning budgets, increased profitability demands, and shrinking aesthetic quality has complicated an industry still reeling from the effects of last year’s actors’ and writers’ strikes.
Dune: Part Two arrives later than intended in this conflicted landscape for films of its ilk. (Its late arrival is a consequence of the Hollywood studios refusing to pay actors and writers what they deserved.) The film continues the story of Paul Atreides (Timothee Chalamet), the heir to the obliterated planetary dukedom of Arrakis. Paul’s metaphysical gifts could make him a messiah to the Indigenous Fremen, the harbinger of an empire’s destruction, or both. With his cataclysmic destiny on the horizon, Paul trains with the Fremen and falls in love with warrior Chani (Zendaya). Meanwhile, forces plot around or against him, including his mother, Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), the Harkonnen dynasty that destroyed House Atreides, now including the sociopathic heir Feyd-Rautha (Austin Butler), and the Empire, whose future lies with Princess Irulan (Florence Pugh).
What’s clear from the onset of Dune: Part Two is the gulf between the film and its peers. Denis Villeneuve is at the height of his filmmaking powers, and he works in intricate lockstep with his collaborators to ensure every single cent is on display. Every production and craft element is extraordinary: the set and costume design, the incredibly detailed sound, Hans Zimmer’s instantaneous score, the reality-warping visual effects, and Greig Fraser’s arresting cinematography coalesce to subsume you in Arrakis. Villeneuve and Fraser capture the world at a scale so overwhelming it borders on the obscene, yielding a near-endless barrage of staggering, jaw-dropping images and sequences. What they present is enough to question your perception of reality and fantasy. (Villeneuve discovering a secret coven of sandworms in a desert somewhere doesn’t fall far from the realm of possibility.)
Villeneuve’s extraordinary direction also pulls incredible performances from his ensemble cast. While he struggled to mold his youthful volatility to his subdued character in Dune, Timothée Chalamet is resoundingly successful as Paul Atreides in Part Two. He is more settled and convincing within Paul’s quieter nature, finding moments of deep emotion within it. He roars to life in the final act, exhibiting a bone-chilling and captivating presence that ranks among his best moments. Zendaya has more to do as Chani, and her commanding stillness is essential to the film’s emotional narrative. Austin Butler is a demented delight as Feyd-Rautha, not just as a scenery chewer but as a silent observer. He relishes in the political chaos with a blended look of murderous rage, haughty bemusement, and deranged arousal. Javier Bardem and Rebecca Ferguson look like they’re thoroughly enjoying their characters’ beats of levity and menace, respectively.
Part Two is more than a stunning array of boundary-shattering spectacle. The aesthetic lyricism is a compelling contrast to the relentless desolation at the film’s core. Part Two explores how power-mad depravity ravages everything within its line of sight. There is little to no hope in the sands and spice of Arrakis. Doom lurks along the edges of every frame, whether practical via the sandworms or existential through the Bene Gesserit, and promises to eradicate any ostensible peace. Every character is ultimately a prisoner of the concept of power, and their possession of it is a fickle illusion. Part Two is bleak, but it stays vibrant through how Villeneuve conveys the sublime in the imagery and his presentation. Arrakis may be doomed, but that doom doesn’t necessarily mean the absence of beauty. Nor does it mean the absence of humor, as Part Two is surprisingly, sometimes uncomfortably funny.
The film doesn’t always manifest its bleakness successfully. Religion is Part Two at its weakest, especially in how the Bene Gesserit interacts with the Fremen religion. Villeneuve and co-screenwriter Jon Spaihts mostly glance over Lady Jessica’s machinations within the Fremen community and her weaponizing their faith to advance her ends. Their script tells more than shows, which slightly undercuts Jessica’s importance to Paul’s arc. It also dodges interrogations of religious fundamentalism and the exploitation of people of color. It may have been uncomfortable for Villeneuve to explore, but the narrative thread still feels central to the story. The film is more comfortable exploring Arrakis’ political structures, but the religious flimsiness impacts that as well because of the Bene Gesserit’s participation. Given its boldness in conveying the political and cultural schematics, that detail is disappointingly missing from the religious ones.
Even where it falls short, Dune: Part Two is critical to the blockbuster’s current inflection point. Villeneuve sets a new standard for big-budget, premium-format-ready filmmaking, delivering an aesthetic masterwork that shames its peers (James Cameron notwithstanding). The film insists on multiple watches in the likelihood you might’ve missed a dazzling detail. Part Two significantly improves on the first installment of the Atreides saga, already an excellent effort. It also sets the course for another magnificent leap forward, with opportunity for refinement and evolution. Past and future aside, Part Two is a triumph.
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