Dune (1984) Review
I’m sure many of you readers have realized by now that I’m a huge fan of the late, great filmmaker David Lynch. His fascinating visuals and unconventional ways of presenting narratives have always captivated me. But until recently, there was one film of his that I hadn’t seen: his 1984 adaptation of Dune.
To be fair, I had valid reasons for avoiding it. Lynch himself has publicly expressed his dislike for the film, stating that because he didn’t receive final cut, the film was "hurt." He views it as a constant reminder of unrealized potential. Apparently, he shot enough footage for a four-hour film, but the studio—wanting to cram in more daily screenings to recoup the large production cost—cut it down to just over two hours.
The result is the subject of this review. So how bad is David Lynch’s Dune? Honestly, not quite as bad as I thought—but also not particularly good. Especially when compared to Denis Villeneuve’s recent, critically acclaimed adaptation. That said, I can understand how, before the newer version came out, someone unfamiliar with the book might have been able to enjoy Lynch’s take more easily. Without prior knowledge, the film’s many issues aren’t quite as glaring.
The plot tracks fairly closely to Dune: Part One for the first hour and a half, though it’s noticeably condensed. But once we hit the story elements covered in Dune: Part Two, the film hits fast-forward. We’re shown a string of rapid-fire scenes—basically a highlight reel—for a solid 20 minutes to bring us to the final confrontation. Chani (Sean Young) falls in love with Paul (Kyle MacLachlan) instantly, and Paul’s rise to prominence among the Fremen happens so quickly it’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it transformation—aside from the iconic sandworm-riding sequence, which the film does keep.
But does all of that ruin the movie? I don’t think so. Again, I wouldn’t say it’s great, but I did enjoy watching it. Lynch takes a much more stylized, surreal approach to the adaptation, putting heavy focus on visual storytelling and set design. One particularly memorable moment involves a character imprisoned in a Harkonnen cell. The Baron informs him that to stay alive, he must milk a skinless cat all day for the antidote to a poison he’s been exposed to. The antidote only suppresses the poison, so he has to do it indefinitely to survive. The absurdity of the setup—and the utterly bizarre contraption the cat is strapped into—had me laughing out loud. It’s probably one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen in a film.
Overall, I’d say it’s worth a watch—if you’re a fan of Lynch or Dune, and if you go in with low expectations. It really is a strange cinematic artifact, and it makes you wonder: if this film had been a success, would Lynch have become a mainstream Hollywood director instead of carving out his place in the indie world of surreal and abstract storytelling? Lynch himself has often said this project was a defining moment in his career.
Certainly an oddity—but depending on your taste, it might just be worth your time.
