Dune: Part Two

Tropic Sprockets by Ian Brockway

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Denis Villenueve unveils the second chapter of “Dune,” Frank Herbert’s epic of feudal war. Once again it has panoramic visuals and intense facial expressions, in addition to a more totalitarian paranoia. But unlike its predecessor the pacing has improved, the pathos is more authentic, and it is chock full of action.

The action is first rate highlighting riveting acrobatics and quiet dialogue. The soft conversational moments carry real meaning and charge.

Harkonnen at 300 pounds and connected to a machine has never been more terrifying. He is as intimidating as Emperor Nero. There is extra fright given by Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen (Austin Butler) who plays the villain very well.

There is plenty of intrigue with dark things in dark places behind closed doors.

Christopher Walken gives an entertaining performance as a Padishah Emperor resembling a spaceman as a gangster. Walken is a kind of interplanetary Pontius Pilate or a galactic John Gotti.

While the emphasis is on discomfort, trauma, sand and iron war machines, there are beautiful passages in the film that recall the sweep of “Lawrence of Arabia.”

Discouraging it is to see a future world feverish with pain and religion on the edge of war. Everything appears made of iron and for all advancement, all things feel primitive and agrarian. All sounds are merging into the march of Fascism. The oppressive rich are chalk white and robotic. One does not have to be a devotee of Herbert to find context. Here are the marginalized indigenous people, the agrarians and the have-nots. They are looking for a chosen one in Paul Atreides, but is he the right person? It is this question that makes the film compelling, raising it from “Braveheart” cacophonies and throat slashing summersaults.

This second chapter of “Dune,” with its expression of angst buried under endless fields of beige create abstract art installations while huge iron machines crunch upon the earth with dispassionate regularity. The most fearful thing about “Dune” is the fact that Arrakis is under a great chalk white wave of Authoritarianism, where woman, man and machine all become indecipherable and uniform.

Write Ian at ianfree11@yahoo.com