Watching Dune: Part Two was a stark reminder of the profound power of cinema to not only entertain and captivate us but also to hold up a mirror to the complexities and contradictions of the human experience. As a lifelong film lover, I've always been drawn to the way that the best movies can transport us to richly imagined worlds that feel both tantalizingly foreign and eerily familiar, and Dune: Part Two is a prime example of this uncanny magic at work.
Movies like Interstellar, Prometheus, Alien, and Blade Runner 2049 have long inspired me to build worlds of my own. It was only recently that I discovered agencies like Pentagram actually design Hollywood and animated film logos, which was a game-changer for me as a brand consultant.
On the surface, the film immerses us in a dazzlingly realized vision of a far-future universe, complete with its own intricate system of politics, religion, ecology, and technology. But beneath the awe-inspiring spectacle lies a deeper commentary on the cyclical nature of human history and the ways in which we seem doomed to repeat our mistakes, even in the most advanced and enlightened of societies.
Dune: Part One reignited my love for sci-fi and storytelling because it showed us how to dream differently through sight, sound, and story. Despite my deep admiration for Denis Villeneuve's work, I couldn't help but shed a tear during the interactions between the Harkonnens and the Fremen temple, as they drew parallels to the ongoing conflict in Gaza.
One of the most troubling aspects of Dune: Part Two, and indeed of the entire Dune franchise, is the way it perpetuates the tired trope of the white savior complex. We see this embodied in the character of Paul Atreides, a young nobleman from a powerful house who is hailed as a messianic figure by the indigenous Fremen people of Arrakis. Despite the fact that the Fremen have been fighting against their oppressors for generations and have developed their own sophisticated culture and way of life, they are portrayed as helpless and in need of a savior from the outside.
While I appreciate Timothée Chalamet's performance as Paul, I wish the film had taken more liberties with the source material to ensure that Jessica and Chani were not just powerful women but also influential figures whose stories outweighed the white savior trope.
The world of Dune is heavily influenced by Islamic and Middle Eastern culture, as well as European feudalism and the history of colonialism. While the film celebrates and draws inspiration from these rich cultural traditions, it's important to recognize the double standards and hypocrisies that often accompany such representations in popular media.
A poignant example of this issue is Anya Taylor Joy wearing a hijab at the Dune: Part Two publicity event, while in August 2016, a Muslim woman wearing a burkini was confronted by armed police officers on a beach in Cannes, France. The officers demanded that she remove her burkini, citing a controversial ban on the garment (Quinn, 2016). This incident highlights how Western society often exoticizes and appropriates non-Western cultures for aesthetic or entertainment purposes, while simultaneously marginalizing and oppressing the real-life individuals and communities who belong to those cultures (Almeida, 2018; Said, 1978).
I would have loved to see a cast that better reflects the cultures the film draws inspiration from, as the exoticization of Middle Eastern culture in entertainment without proper representation can be deeply problematic.
At the same time, there is something to be said for the way that Dune: Part Two grapples with the complex relationship between religion, power, and leadership. In one particularly poignant scene, Princess Irulan reflects on the way that her father, the Emperor, has used religion as a tool of control and manipulation, noting that "when religion and politics travel in the same cart, the riders believe nothing can stand in their way." Later, she muses that "religion often grows stronger in the absence of a charismatic leader," suggesting that true faith and conviction come from within, rather than from external figureheads or saviors.
Irulan's quote about the absence of charismatic leaders giving way to radicalism is particularly thought-provoking. It reminds me of how, throughout history, art movements have often emerged alongside or in resistance to sociopolitical upheavals, underscoring the idea that the most important art is that which reflects or challenges our current circumstances.
These insights feel particularly relevant in our current moment, where we are grappling with the rise of authoritarianism and the co-opting of religious and spiritual traditions for political gain. They remind us of the importance of cultivating our own inner sense of purpose and morality, rather than relying on external authorities to dictate our beliefs and actions.
While Dune: Part Two makes some efforts to portray a world in which women hold positions of power and influence, it ultimately falls short in fully realizing this vision. Despite the presence of strong female characters like Lady Jessica and Chani, the story still centers around Paul Atreides as the messianic figure who holds the ultimate power and authority.
This dynamic reflects the persistent gender inequalities and double standards that exist in our own society, where women are often expected to play supportive or secondary roles to male leaders and heroes (Cheldelin et al., 2019). It's disappointing to see a film that had the potential to subvert these tropes ultimately reinforce them, even if unintentionally.
Dune: Part Two, like many science fiction films before it, offers a sobering commentary on the devastating consequences of environmental neglect and resource depletion. The scarcity of water and the harsh, desert landscape of Arrakis serve as a powerful metaphor for the challenges we face in our own world, as climate change and unsustainable practices threaten the stability and habitability of our planet.
The comparison to Interstellar is apt, as both films depict a future in which humanity must grapple with the consequences of its actions and find ways to adapt and survive in the face of ecological catastrophe (Perkowitz, 2022). These stories serve as a warning and a call to action, reminding us of the urgent need to address environmental issues before it's too late.
Ultimately, while Dune: Part Two may stumble in its portrayal of race, power, and gender, it also offers valuable lessons about the enduring human struggle for meaning, identity, and justice in a world that often seems indifferent or hostile to our deepest aspirations. It reminds us of the vital role that storytelling and imagination can play in shaping our understanding of ourselves and our place in the universe, even as it challenges us to interrogate our own assumptions and biases.
As creatives and designers, we have a profound responsibility to wield the power of world-building and narrative in service of a more just, compassionate, and inclusive vision of the future. We must strive to create experiences that not only dazzle the senses but also nourish the soul and challenge the status quo. We must center the voices and stories of the marginalized and the oppressed, and use our platforms to amplify their struggles and their triumphs.
Only then can we hope to build a world that truly reflects the infinite diversity and potential of the human spirit - a world where every voice is heard, every story is valued, and every dream has the chance to take flight.
Despite its shortcomings, Dune: Part Two remains a stunning achievement in world-building and storytelling that has undoubtedly inspired countless creatives, myself included. As we continue to grapple with the complex issues it raises, let us use its lessons to fuel our own efforts to create a more just and inclusive future.
