Prior to Denis Villeneuve's arrival on the scene, the prospect of transforming Frank Herbert's novel, Dune, into a viable cinematic masterpiece seemed an elusive fantasy, valiantly attempted once by David Lynch under the watchful eyes of producers Dino and Raffaella De Laurentiis, yet yielding mere critical whispers and modest commercial returns. Ironically, the mere concept of adapting Dune held far greater appeal than its execution, which explains why Alejandro Jodorowsky's audacious vision for the film, immortalized in the documentary Jodorowsky's Dune, remains its most celebrated embodiment—a theoretical odyssey set to Pink Floyd's tunes, adorned with visuals crafted by Dan O'Bannon and H.R. Giger, and featuring a dream cast that included legends like Salvador Dalí, Orson Welles, Mick Jagger, and Udo Kier in pivotal roles. (Jodorowsky's plan to cast his own son as Paul Atreides was just one of many overreaching decisions that ultimately led to the withdrawal of funding.)
The challenge inherent in adapting Dune for the silver screen lies in Herbert's book being both a pulse-pounding space adventure, rife with palace conspiracies and colossal sandworms, and a surreal, galactic-scale acid trip—a rare blend that few directors possess the prowess to capture simultaneously. (In fairness, Lynch wasn't an ill-conceived choice; with more resources and autonomy, his Dune could have ascended to greatness.) Villeneuve tackled the Dune dilemma by masterfully rendering the novel's "space adventure" facet while supplanting its more mystical elements with an awe-inspiring, thunderous world-building that envelops you in its vastness. To a certain extent, watching Villeneuve's films isn't just about loving them; it's about feeling overwhelmed by them, as if the macabre inhabitants of House Harkonnen have touched down their spaceship in your very backyard.
Inspired by Frank Herbert's seminal work and its prequel, "Sisterhood of Dune," penned by his eldest son Brian Herbert in collaboration with Kevin J. Anderson, "Dune: Prophecy" embarked on a journey through various creative teams before finding a steady hand in showrunner Alison Schapker. Murray's curtain-raiser in the New York Times meticulously chronicles this dramatic odyssey. The inaugural episode of "Dune: Prophecy" opts for a cautious approach, adhering to Denis Villeneuve's visual aesthetic (while straying from his auditory choices) and evolving into a "Game of Thrones"-esque saga of feuding houses and interstellar political maneuvering. However, this deviation risks straying perilously far from the essence of "Dune" — having not delved into Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson's prequel novels, perhaps the divergence begins there. Thus far, it's challenging to discern the allegorical depth of Herbert's original novel, which subtly mirrored the struggles over oil and jihadism in the Middle East. Perhaps some profound themes will emerge as the series unfolds, but its ambitious scope demands patience to fully ascend.
Concurrently, "Dune: Prophecy" is inherently susceptible to mission drift, delving into the meticulously laid plans of the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood 10,000 years prior to their orchestration of Paul Atreides' birth. Picture the Charlie Day Conspiracy meme from "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia," but with a bulletin board as vast as the Green Monster at Fenway Park. In the grand tapestry of Herbert's "Dune," the multi-millennial conspiracy aimed at producing a messianic hero of unparalleled apocalyptic prowess sounds nothing short of epic, casting Paul in the mold of a Chosen One of colossal magnitude. However, "Dune: Prophecy" exposes the obvious: humans are flawed and often at odds, and it's a marvel we can even come together to assemble a club sandwich, let alone forge the universe's defining force.
To her credit, Valya Harkonnen (portrayed by Emily Watson) possesses a fierce, unwavering vision, steadfastly refusing to budge under the influence of others—a stance that, considering her family's notorious reputation, casts a long, ominous shadow over the Bene Gesserit's intricate plot. In her opening, haunting narration, Valya's venomous disdain for the historical accounts of recent times bubbles to the surface, wherein House Atreides is hailed for spearheading humanity's triumphant rebellion against the oppressive "thinking machines," while her illustrious ancestor is rumored to have deserted the fray. Valya views the Bene Gesserit's mission as a beacon to redeem the tarnished Harkonnen name—spoiler alert: it fails to do so. Yet, the crux of the Sisterhood lies in its members' unwavering loyalty solely to their own kind; their alliances and nurtured relationships are intricately woven into the grand tapestry of their overarching plan.
In "The Hidden Hand," this plan entwines itself with the royal bloodline of Princess Ynez (brought to life by Sarah-Sofie Boussnina), the heir presumptive to the Golden Lion throne currently occupied by Emperor Javicco Corrino (markedly portrayed by Mark Strong), who oversees the vital spice harvest on the desolate planet of Arrakis. Against his better judgment, Corrino strikes a deal with House Richese to wed Ynez to the youthful Prince Pruwet, aiming to secure a formidable fleet of warriors to fend off the relentless attacks that have halted the harvesters on Arrakis. Though Ynez reluctantly undergoes the awkward and stilted ceremony, it will be some time before Pruwet matures into the marriage's responsibilities. In the interim, she harbors intentions to join the Bene Gesserit as an acolyte, adding their mystical, philosophical teachings to her already honed combat prowess. Valya and her sister Tula (depicted by Olivia Williams) harbor great expectations for their new recruit, whom Valya firmly believes fulfills a prophecy. However, Sister Kasha, who has guided Ynez under Corrino's watchful eye, is consumed by foreboding omens of impending doom.
This episode lays the groundwork for a series of gripping dramas unfolding in the near future, introducing Desmond Hart (Travis Fimmel), an unlikely survivor of a devastating assault on Corrino's troops on the arid planet of Arrakis. Emerging from the desolate sands of this harsh world, Desmond persists in his claim that the ambush was orchestrated not by the indigenous Fremon, but by rebels from allied houses. (It's noteworthy that Kasha, a skilled TruthSayer loyal to Emperor Corrino, senses that Desmond's assertions ring true.)
The most intense moment of the hour-long segment—a scene that mirrors the midnight raid that decimated House Atreides in Dune: Part One—finds Desmond shattered the newly forged union by using his mind to incinerate the young Purwet until death claimed him, with Kasha simultaneously enduring a similar tragic fate.
"A war lurks in plain view," he declares to the impoverished youth, moments before terminating his life. "Victory in war demands immense sacrifice, and yours shall not be in vain." With these words, Desmond positions himself as an adversary to the Sisterhood, his psychic prowess—evidenced in the footage Corrino witnesses of him summoning a sandworm—rendering him a formidable force. Yet, as Kasha expires in Valya's presence, Valya appears more enlightened than discouraged, as if the path laid out by the Bene Gesserit's founder has been clarified, rather than obliterated. This is the potency of faith, which Valya possesses in abundance—almost as much as her ruthless demeanor.
It is yet uncertain whether 'Dune: Prophecy' will gain traction from the startling deaths that conclude this inaugural episode, which often struggles under the burden of introducing numerous characters and extensive exposition. This is a pitfall inherent to the 'Dune' saga—moviegoers of the 1984 adaptation were greeted with a glossary of terminology. However, thus far, the series lacks the majestic wonder of the Villeneuve films to propel it forward. Like Desmond Hart, it must struggle its way out of the sands.
