Everything Wrong With 1984's Dune

David Lynch's version of "Dune" was released in 1984, and, with its erratic pace and variety of alternate, often unsanctioned versions, it's been notorious ever since. While your mileage will vary on whether or not it holds any of the weight of Frank Herbert's epic novel, it's a remarkable achievement to get a story critics still call unfilmable off the ground. Lynch's version is emphatically his in the right and weirdest of places. Ask a hardcore sci-fi movie fan if they remember the time a prisoner had to milk a cat to get the antidote he needs to live, then watch their face smooth over as they recall the horrifying memory. That's definitely a thing that happens in David Lynch's "Dune."

We're still waiting to see if that shot makes it into Denis Villeneuve's "Dune: Part Two." Tragically, probably not. Villeneuve did give us that creepy spider humanoid, though. Anyway, cat antidote milk isn't the only oddity to come out of Lynch's vision. It's a fantastically imaginative movie, approached with the right mindset. We're going to go over some of what's wrong with it, but that's no shade. We love this film. "Dune" is its own feverish spice dream. It does have some big flaws, however, and that's what we're going to sift through.

Fans of Frank Herbert's novel can defend the idea of Princess Irulan's introduction to the theatrical release. Thematically, it makes good sense. In universe, she's the historian who will one day chronicle the rise of the Fremen Messiah, her royal consort, Paul Muad'Dib (Kyle MacLachlan). Without that information, the movie opens with this random, regally dressed woman (Virginia Madsen), who proceeds to dump a lot of exposition about the conflict between Houses Harkonnen, Atreides, and Corrino, then adds more about two opposing guilds, the Spacing Guild and the Bene Gesserit, all over something called the spice melange on a world named Arrakis, also known as Dune.

It's a chunky monologue, complete with an "I almost forgot," which is nonsensical for a historian's introduction. Equally unwieldy but a lot more cogent, the unsanctioned TV cut (aka the "Alan Smithee Cut"), provides a different introductory class. This methodical version, matched with fascinating concept art slides, is provided by Disney voice actor William Phipps instead. It's more useful, but both forget that film is its own medium. Letting Chani (Zendaya) talk naturally about her love of Arrakis in 2021's version is far more powerful.

"Dune" is a parable about colonialism and resource domination, and the local religious militants are the closest we get to good guys. Based originally on a nonfiction text Frank Herbert was preparing, it's easy to see how we get to Arrakis from ecological disasters and oil conglomerates cutting up the Middle East. With further context in mind — the Fremen of Arrakis press a galactic jihad from "Dune Messiah" onward — it's tough to cast Fremen for a film and not fall into harmful stereotypes about Islam.

The solution was not to cast a variety of the whitest guys David Lynch could get. Stilgar, the Naib of Sietch Tabr — Naib is an Arabic word that, in this context, means an authoritative representative — is played by the stony white face of Everett McGill. Jamis is played by Judd Omen (white), his wife Sarah, who is 'claimed' by Paul, is played by Molly Wyrn (so white), and Chani is porcelain beauty Sean Young ("Blade Runner"). Basic logic suggests that generations on a desert world would leave you somewhat brown, in addition to dusty. This is remedied by Denis Villeneuve's "Dune," which partially remembers that Herbert had a relatively nuanced understanding of Islam, and casts people of color in a majority of its Fremen roles. Nobody Arabic, unfortunately — even Villeneuve isn't brave enough to hold that conversation.

The unwieldy info dump narration at the start of both versions of 1984's "Dune" isn't the only way the film unnecessarily explains itself. It also provides internal narration from most major characters. Invisible thought bubbles jam every scene as these whispering inner voices hold disjointed conversations with the events before them. It didn't work three years earlier in "Blade Runner," and it sure as hell doesn't work here, either.

It's another way "Dune" reveals that it doesn't have enough confidence in its audience to follow what's going on without clutching their hands and dragging them along. The result is baby food, pureed dialogue that leaves fascinating set pieces without any silence for us to study them. Not all of the internal narration is useless or annoying. We can make arguments for the spice dreams, for example, as the audience is itself part of the internal chorus. But that only underlines how flawed the constant mental chatter is. Worst is when it attempts to add character nuance the film couldn't make room for more effectively — Yueh (Dean Stockwell), with his internal whimpering about his captured wife Wanna, is a prime example of this flaw.

Max von Sydow was a brilliant actor who excelled at every performance, from the doomed knight at the heart of "The Seventh Seal," to voicing the historian Esben in "Skyrim." It's hard to misuse his talents, which consistently uplifted a project. "The Exorcist," especially, benefits from his quiet presence, a counterweight of serenity against the Devil itself. And yet, even before "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" managed to throw him away in a one minute cameo, there was "Dune" to prove you could screw it up.

Liet-Kynes, Judge of the Change and the chief ecologist studying Arrakis, is a small but important character in the novel. He's the axis point between worlds, a living example of the veil residents have to pass through before they turn Fremen. He's trapped by his duty to the Emperor, and when he betrays that duty in order to save the Atreides, whom he's come to respect, he's slain by the Harkonnens. It's a sequence of events that Villeneuve explains well in his version, but Lynch neglects the most important element of Dr. Kynes story. He's charmed by the Duke and his desert-wise son, but he doesn't help them in the siege of Arrakis. Instead the Harkonnens leave him to die in the sand, for no reason but to ensure we know they're evil.

Baron Vladimir Harkonnen is described hideously in the books, large enough to require a repulsor system to float. He's also depicted as a bisexual pedophile, incestuous, and unfortunately, one of the few clues to Frank Herbert's personal opinions. We're not claiming the Baron's portrayal in David Lynch's "Dune" is inaccurate. However, the film goes into detail about his predilections, adding layers to the Baron that are both stereotypical and openly homophobic.

Vladimir (Kenneth McMillian) molests and murders a young man in one of his earliest appearances. This Baron is erratic, his large body cursed with seeping boils and pustules. It's 1984, recall. The AIDS epidemic began in 1981, and had already been public news for two years. At this time, the fear, disgust, and abuse of those suffering from HIV was reaching a crescendo. The Baron plays into the public's fears of the time, associating queer coding with child abuse. Today, Stellan Skarsgard's new Baron holds a quieter menace, wielding his body as a threat. It's better, though none of this can erase what Frank Herbert intended, nor hide the existence of his second son, Bruce. A gay activist estranged from his father because of his sexuality, Bruce Herbert died of AIDS in 1993 at the age of 41.

If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual assault, help is available. Visit the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network website or contact RAINN's National Helpline at 1-800-656-HOPE (4673).

Pardon the joke, but Duke Leto Atreides' fascination with the Fremen hinges on their potential to stand toe to toe with the Emperor's finest killers, shoring up his family's place as a contender for ruler of the Landsraad. The Sardaukar are forged from childhood on a prison planet famed for its hostile environment, and excel in all combat forms, from the physical to the psychological. Little of that world, Salusa Secundus, is revealed in Frank Herbert's novels, and it was a surprise to see its brutality depicted in Denis Villeneuve's version.

But in the 1984 film, the Sardaukar are ridiculous to behold. They're dressed in puffy garbage bags with green windows in their helmets, and their weapons are thick and clunky. It makes them a faceless, monolithic enemy, sure, but we don't get to see their potential prowess much. It's not a surprise to see Lynch's Fremen barely bother with their intended parallels on screen, but it is a disappointment. Even the SyFy miniseries of "Dune," which has rated no worthwhile mentions thus far, more accurately depicted these warriors like the Roman Legionnaires and Ottoman Janissaries that inspired them.

The Kwisatz Haderach is the ultimate goal of the Bene Gesserit, an ubermensch — with all the historical weight that entails intended — capable of bridging both the masculine and feminine spiritual world. It's a dangerous gift, once trained, and the psychic pressure of the Kwisatz Haderach is hard for an onlooker to deny. It's not meant to offer free superpowers, though, and 1984's "Dune" ends on a truly ridiculous note that undermines literally everything else in the epic.

With an intent, slack-jawed stare, Paul brings rain to Arrakis. It causes his little sister to note that this means he is, in fact, the Kwisatz Haderach. What it actually means is that he's just destroyed space travel for several millennia, as the rain would kill the sandworms and the spice they produce. It ignores that a similar situation is mentioned in the novel as a threat, using the Water of Life to destroy all spice production. It's total control over a vital resource, and Lynch's "Dune" washes it all away with some showy power creep. A green Arrakis is a dream for the Fremen, true. But not like this.