When "Dune: Prophecy" premieres on HBO on Sunday, November 17th, it will usurp "The Penguin's" spot on the schedule. This marks another peculiar corporate integration by the premium cable giant, where it takes blockbuster Warner Bros. film franchises and transforms them into fresh television adaptations of beloved HBO series.
Just as the creative minds behind "The Penguin" seized the chance to craft a standalone show centered on Colin Farrell's waddling crime lord, delivering a "Sopranos" with extra latex, the developers of "Dune: Prophecy" seemingly grasped the opportunity to create a prequel tied to Denis Villeneuve's "Dune," presenting a "House of the Dragon" with (a mere handful) of sandworms substituting for (a plethora of) dragons.
I'm not suggesting that when HBO's "Harry Potter" series finally emerges from its seemingly endless gestation, it will be a covert reboot of "Arli$$." But I'm also not denying the possibility.
Putting aside the excessive familiarity, "The Penguin" wasn't terrible, with Cristin Milioti's performance serving as its primary attraction. Nothing in "Dune: Prophecy" reaches a Miliotian (trademark pending) level of brilliance, and the show falls short of capturing much of the technical wonder that defines the Villeneuve films. However, as an overstuffed contemplation on the struggles of female agency in a patriarchal society — one where names like "Harkonnen" and "Atreides" are occasionally tossed around to cater to an imagined audience — it offers moments of lavishly produced, morally ambiguous intrigue and betrayal.
Adapted by Diane Ademu-John and Alison Schapker, "Dune: Prophecy" ostensibly serves as an elaborate origin story for the Bene Gesserit, the franchise's influential sisterhood, albeit loosely based on the novel "Sisterhood of Dune." The foundational narrative is exhaustively laid out through roughly four minutes of voiceover from Valya Harkonnen (played by Emily Watson, with Jessica Barden in frequent flashbacks), whose objective is to harness the power of the Sisterhood — and their supernatural abilities, as you may recall — to attain a certain level of galactic control and restore her family's tarnished reputation.
In those opening minutes, it's established that Valya committed a grave sin, and as she admits, "I knew then, the name Valya Harkonnen would forever be damned to the wrong side of history." But was this sin committed for noble reasons? Or is there no such thing as a just cause when ambition is pursued in the name of power? And does society perceive these actions differently when committed by women rather than men? These are indeed profound questions!
Valya's most trusted companion is her sister, Tula, portrayed with elegance by Olivia Williams (and Emma Canning as her younger self). Together, they oversee an entire institution filled with novices, acolytes, or whatever one might call them, among whom we encounter a diverse group, including the martyrdom-fascinated Sister Emeline (Aoife Hinds), the rebellious Sister Jen (Faoileann Cunningham), the secretly talented Sister Theodosia (Jade Anouka), and the youthful, potentially most extraordinary of all, Sister Lila (Chloe Lea).
The Sisterhood stands poised to gain added prestige with the inclusion of Princess Ynez (Sarah-Sofie Boussnina), Emperor Javicco Corrino's (Mark Strong) daughter, who aspires to dabble in Truthsaying—a unique skill honed by the Sisterhood, who are trained as human lie detectors—while awaiting the coming of age of her betrothed. However, tranquility at the royal palace is destined to be disrupted by the arrival of soldier Desmond Hart (Travis Fimmel), the lone survivor of a catastrophic spice harvest on Arrakis.
What unfolds is akin to a game of thrones, where the emperor, the Sisterhood, various ancient families, and the enigmatic Desmond all begin to maneuver in hopes of seizing control of the Imperium and the precious spice. As if the Bene Gesserit of '90s pop music—Posh, Ginger, Sporty, Baby, and Scary—had once crooned, "People of the world, spice up your life!" It feels as though someone has taken lines from a Game of Thrones script, sprinkled the word "spice" haphazardly throughout, yielding gems like, "We are all mere pawns on the chessboard, manipulated in the quest for power and spice" or "Ho-spice-dor."
The narrative is set a staggering 10,148 years prior to the birth of Paul Atreides—a far greater temporal distance than in comparable prequel series such as House of the Dragon or Amazon's Lord of the Rings endeavor. Moreover, it predominantly unfolds on worlds other than Arrakis, so do not anticipate many direct ties to the films directed by Denis Villeneuve. The ascent to power of various factions many millennia later holds little relevance here. Instead, the drama underscores the defining traits of its illustrious families as they play lethal games with each other's lives, forge fragile alliances, perpetrate heart-wrenching betrayals, and engage in intricate schemes and counter-schemes, all immersed in a moral ambiguity that, frankly, renders the entire series a thematic quandary.
I grasp the timeless wisdoms embedded in phrases like "ambition is dangerous," "absolute power corrupts absolutely," and "religious zealotry is terrifying." Yet, any attempt to weave in contemporary insights—such as the looming specter of influential women in a Kamala-inspired world or the encroaching peril of artificial intelligence—often feels discordant. Nevertheless, this represents an unparalleled opportunity for intricate world-building, a scope that even Villeneuve's Dune features, collectively spanning over five and a half hours, could scarcely attain. Similarly, Dune: Prophecy is not lacking in terms of screen time; each of the four episodes dispatched to critics surpasses the hour mark, perhaps excessive, but ample for delving deeply into the conflict with "thinking machines," the political hierarchy of the Imperium, and the genesis of later plot elements, like the Voice.
The legitimate inquiry of whether viewers actually crave such extensive context may be met with a resounding no by those who cherished the films for Villeneuve and cinematographer Greig Fraser's breathtaking visuals. While the initial installment was no stranger to grandeur, the sequel, in particular, stretched the boundaries of cinematic experiences, rivaling the most expansive spectacles of recent decades. Dune: Prophecy, however, diverges from this path. It is shrouded in darkness and gloom, frequently inducing a sense of claustrophobia despite the grandeur of its palaces, citadels, and other architectural marvels. The vast landscapes and undulating dunes of the films have been supplanted by labyrinthine corridors, bewildering catacombs, and smoky hookah lounges exuding the aroma of spice. This stylistic choice is deliberate, offering both an aesthetic juxtaposition within the narrative and presumably a more feasible budget. Yet, regardless of its design, there exists a chasm between "jaw-dropping" and "merely well-executed."
This isn't solely a matter of movies versus television. There's a discernible gap between the photography of Pierre Gill and his team, the varied sets crafted by production designer Tom Meyer in Dune: Prophecy, and the likes of Foundation or Silo on Apple TV+, which embody the pinnacle of contemporary cinematography, effects, and set design within the medium. On a practical level, the directors of Dune: Prophecy, led by Anna Foerster, appear more engrossed in capturing the nuances of the actors' faces than in replicating the grandiose setups constructed on a soundstage in Budapest.
The dual portrayals by Watson/Barden and Williams/Canning stand as the show's linchpin, with each actress delivering exceptional performances that seamlessly align in their character depictions. Among the early episodes, my favorite was the third, heavy with flashbacks and genuinely perplexing twists, which shone a spotlight on Barden and Canning. It was the sole installment that left me genuinely astonished.
Among the seasoned actors, Strong's casting as an emperor is a stroke of genius. He embodies the semblance of overbearing authority, yet is manipulated like a pawn on a chessboard by his wife Natalya (Jodhi May) and possibly by Desmond, a role that allows Fimmel to blend his signature movie star charisma with his quirky character actor traits.
Despite the length of each chapter, the younger actors have yet to truly distinguish themselves as individuals. Despite a helpful sequence where Valya and Tula scrutinize pictures of each acolyte, debating their merits and flaws, their personalities remain largely unremarkable and inconsistent.
I spent much of my time pondering the show's intentions with Princess Ynez and whether Boussnina, who appears much older than her character's supposed age, was simply miscast. She's trapped in the least captivating aspect of the narrative, paired with an incredibly uninspiring love interest, Keiran (Chris Mason), who would be utterly forgettable if not for his surname "Atreides," and a dreamy half-brother, Constantine (Josh Heuston), who engages in Game of Thrones-esque discussions about the legitimacy of royal bloodlines and finds himself in the season's sole, overly gratuitous, and thoroughly Game of Thrones-like sex scene thus far.
Although it's part of a larger brand, Dune: Prophecy introduces numerous elements, and the series unfolds at a slow, sometimes melancholy pace. Yet, I found myself becoming increasingly engrossed as it progressed. Perhaps by the conclusion of the first season, I'll be utterly hooked. As of now, however, the narrative could benefit from a touch more spice.
