“Our plans are measured in centuries.”

—Reverend Mother Mohiam, Truthsayer to the Emperor of the Known Universe

In 2021’s surprise hit Dune, director Denis Villeneuve makes a promise to audiences. Behind all the grand spectacle, Villeneuve establishes a foreboding tone that indicates he just might nail the apocalyptic terror of Frank Herbert’s classic novel. In Dune: Part Two, the direct follow-up film, that promise is fulfilled. Dune: Part Two isn’t just an exceptional work of technical craftsmanship. Nor is it simply an epic sure to be in conversation with the likes of Star Wars or The Lord of the Rings. This second film is, above all else, a terrifying warning against the power of “savior” figures and the destruction those narratives cause.

Denis Villeneuve has made something extraordinary with Dune: Part Two and its predecessor. Adapting the 1965 novel to the screen, Villeneuve turns Frank Herbert’s ideas and characters into visionary cinema. Beyond tapping into the source material’s vast potential for emotion and sociopolitical commentary, which he does with a careful hand and sharp detail, the director of Arrival and Blade Runner 2049 applies a formal bravado and seriousness found in history’s most substantial works of science fiction. To say the filmmaker made good on the promise of the first part of 2021 is an understatement. Both films are exceptional in their ways, but they become something altogether more when considered together—among the most satisfying and accomplished science-fiction series in recent memory. Not only do they supply an epic-sized spectacle with action and awing sights, but they also remark on political occupation, genocide, the battle for natural resources, and religion as a means of control. While it could have been a typical retread of Star Wars in a lesser director’s hands, Villeneuve’s version takes a galactic view to consider the broader implications. It’s less about rooting for a hero than watching an elaborate strategy unfold. Dune: Part Two is rich with emotion, intellect, and cinematic ambition, delivering at heights few Hollywood productions have achieved.

On a personal level, I breathed a sigh of relief after the final frame. I’ve ired Herbert’s book for years and have never had faith that any screen adaptation could do the material justice. Look at the precedents: David Lynch’s 1984 feature boasted some incredible imagery and a worthy cast; however, between the director’s loss of creative control and itted distance from the material, Lynch’s version doesn’t click. The Sci-Fi Channel miniseries from 2000 has other problems, like underwhelming production values. Not even Alejandro Jodorowsky’s unmade version of Dune, detailed in the 2013 documentary, sounded inspiring since the filmmaker seemed more interested in extravagances than Herbert’s themes. Still, when Villeneuve’s first part was released in 2021, the sequel had not yet been greenlit. I approached with perhaps too much caution, not wanting to invest myself or build expectations should the sequel go unmade or not stick the landing. Watching the second half, all of my concerns faded away, and I found myself immersed in Herbert’s world again, seeing moments from the book onscreen just as my mind’s eye had seen them as a reader. That’s just one aspect of Villeneuve’s genius—his ability to conjure images from the text and visualize what Herbert wrote.

And similar to Herbert’s book, Villeneuve’s version considers the transfer of power from an almost critical distance. Although it’s tempting to view Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet), the messiah of the Fremen desert people, through the lens of the traditional hero’s journey—the monomyth narrative pattern written about in Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces —it’s perhaps more rewarding to view the events with a Bene Gesserit perspective. In other words, not from the subjective perspective of Paul’s rise to power and fulfillment of prophecy, becoming what the so-called witches deem the Kwisatz Haderach or Muad’Dib as the Fremen know him. Paul goes by many names and titles, but his rebellion on Arrakis feels like chess moves in a larger game. The screenplay by Villeneuve and Jon Spaihts considers a long line of maneuvers, so while the audience hopes for Paul to rise, there’s an underlying sense that he is less a hero than another ruler, exploiter, and political force using religion as a means to acquire power. Yet, the affecting and ultimately judgmental eye of his lover, Chani (Zendaya), earns the most sympathy. Still, as Charlotte Rampling’s Truthsayer observes, “There are no sides.”

If not already apparent, it’s best to watch the 2021 film before Part Two and catch up on the elaborate mythology. There’s no recap or “previously on” summary here; the sequel picks up where the first part ended. After his family, House Atreides, falls to the biomechanical House Harkonnen, the returning brute custodians of Arrakis, Paul s the Fremen to earn the desert people’s loyalty. Paul has slain a Fremen warrior to prove himself, buying time for himself and his Bene Gesserit mother, Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson). Among the Fremen, Stilgar (Javier Bardem) and many others believe Paul is the “the One”—the Lisan al-Gaib, or off-world prophet. Others have their doubts. But Jessica, pregnant with a baby who communicates with her telepathically, sets out to become the Reverend Mother of the Fremen. By acquiring this position, she hopes to convince them that her son is their promised messiah, who will return the trees and liberate the arid planet. Paul gradually fulfills one prophecy after another, survives trial after perilous trial, amasses a deadly arsenal, and converts dissenters to followers. Among them is Chani, who comes to respect Paul and becomes his lover.

However, Chani isn’t quite prepared for how Paul intends to seize power and get revenge on the Emperor of the Known Universe (Christopher Walken)—by disrupting the Harkonnens’ Spice-mining operations, inciting a holy war among the Empire’s many houses, and ascending in the chaos. All of this fuss is over Spice, the speckled fragments in the desert that, when used as a psychotropic, opens the mind and facilitates space travel, making it the most coveted resource in the universe. “Power over Spice is power over all,” crackles a voice from the void before the Warner Bros. logo, reminding us that the characters in Dune, like those in Game of Thrones, serve as pawns amid power plays. Take the Emperor’s daughter, Princess Irulan (Florence Pugh), who, along with her fellow Bene Gesserit, Lady Margot Fenring (Léa Seydoux), and the Truthsayer(Charlotte Rampling), anticipate the Emperor’s fall. But to whom? Paul could prove victorious. Then again, so could the Harkonnen—not Glossu Rabban (Dave Bautista), the Baron’s (Stellan Skarsgård) nephew who has lost control of Arrakis to Paul’s Fremen rebellion. It’s more likely the Baron’s other nephew, Feyd-Rautha (Austin Butler, convincingly replicating Skarsgård’s accent).

Everything audiences liked about the first film is back in full force for Dune: Part Two. The returning players all put their best foot forward. Rebecca Ferguson is unnerving as ever as Lady Jessica, Stellan Skarsgård and Dave Bautista repulsive as the Harkonnens, Josh Brolin’s Gurney Halleck is still full of that gruff military charm, and Javier Bardem brings his signature gravitas to Fremen leader Stilgar. The cinematography from Greg Fraisier remains the gold standard for a blockbuster on this scale. Hans Zimmer turns in his strongest score ever. What sets Dune Part Two apart is how it ups the ante across the board. As a sequel, Dune: Part Two is ideal. It takes the first film’s well-laid lore and plots out an ambitious, layered revenge narrative. What’s surprising is, given that it is a Part Two, Villeneuve’s film remains powerful on its own. Even with a cliffhanger ending suggesting an adaptation of Dune: Messiah, Dune: Part Two plays out satisfyingly.

While the Dune saga might play like a space opera at times, Villeneuve embraces Herbert’s themes about religion as an exploitable belief system to serve political gain. The book and film draw from humanity’s historical struggles over resources such as oil and land, with parallels between Paul’s adoption of the Fremens’ ways and T. E. Lawrence’s immersion into the Arab Rebellion during the First World War. Villeneuve has announced his desire to adapt Herbert’s second novel in the series, Dune Messiah, which continues the trend of watching vast political and religious regimes rise and fall. Such themes have made the book an enduring text for scholarly analysis, illustrating how politics adopt religious concepts to secure control—notions all too familiar in a country where Christian nationalism has become a platform for certain leaders. However, with the Fremen, the themes in Dune reach even further into social foundations built on the concept of personal discipline for the community good, which Herbert drew from Islamic values. Through that lens, Paul becomes less a hero than a warning about “chosen ones” who buy into their savior myth.

Anyone turned off by Dune: Part One’s portentousness won’t be converted here. But unlike, say, The Lord of the Rings, Herbert’s vision was always a funny, slightly disorienting clash of impenetrable lore and informal language (he named one of his characters “Duncan Idaho”, after all). Villeneuve has honored that tone, in his way. Josh Brolin, as Paul’s mentor Gurney Halleck, performs a brief ditty about how his “stillsuit is full of piss”. And the film’s stacked with fiddly, HR Giger-inspired machines, like the desiccation pump that sucks vital water out of the Fremen dead. Part Two is as grand as it is intimate, and while Hans Zimmer’s score once again blasts your eardrums into submission, and the theatre seats rumble with every cresting sandworm, it’s the choice moments of silence that leave their mark.

Dune is not an easy novel to adapt. The seminal work doesn’t shy away from the destructive power of cults of personality. Timothée Chalamet utterly transforms into someone who first uses the existing traditions of the Fremen to survive, only to start believing in himself as some sort of holy being. By the time he fully gives in to the moniker of Muad’dib he bestows upon himself, he sends shivers down our spine. Additionally, Zendaya as Chani is given more agency than she was in the prior movie and the book itself. She represents what a true hero of the people can look like. Moreover, she’s a lens by which the dangerous deification of a man comes to leave destruction in its wake.

Dune: Part Two twists its spectacle into dread. The ittedly cool images of the sandworm and bombastic battles become signposts of devastation under Greg Fraisier’s eye. Denis Villeneuve and Jon Spaihts’ screenplay tells the story of systems of power. Furthermore, how competing systems of power attempt to remake the world in their image. First, the Bene Gesserit run eugenics-adjacent attempts to bring out a super being. Léa Seydoux, in an all too brief role as Lady Margot Fenring, communicates that scheming as an ambitious member of the Sisterhood.

Alright, and now to the technical aspects of this absolute colossus of a production. This is as grandiose and ambitious as blockbuster filmmaking gets. The scale is unimaginable. If you thought the first film was big, everything is bigger here. It’s a visual masterclass and one of the most technically impressive films you will ever see. It’s a dreadful cliche but it must be said; this film was designed to be seen on the largest screen. From the intense battle sequences to the anxiety-inducing “worm-riding” scenes and one stunning monochromatic segment (with Rorschach ink-esque fireworks, no less) on the Harkonnen’s home planet of Giedi Prime, every moment bursts from the screen to assault your eyes and ears in the greatest way possible.

Amidst some of the best CGI wizardry ever created, you get sharp editing from Joe Walker, bone-rattling sound design, and stunning costume and set creations from Jacqueline West and Patrice Vermette, respectively. Calling this film a feast is an understatement. It’s staggeringly crafted and it shouldn’t surprise anyone if it runs away with the same six (or more) Oscars it took home in 2021.

There are moments in Dune: Part Two that feel so audacious, they play out as if they were already etched onto the cinematic canon. A lone figure stands astride a mountainous worm as it pummels through the sand like Moses parting the Red Sea. A man is trapped by a psychic seduction, its effects splintering across the screen in what could only be described as an indoor thunderstorm. Gladiatorial combat takes place on a planet with an environment so inhospitable, its colors so drained, that it looks almost like a photographic negative.

Concurrently, the Fremen desire a holy figure. The Fremen are given the most complication. Some, such as Souheila Yacoubs' character Shishakli, have their doubts about Paul’s claims. Yet, a mob mentality takes over. In their selfishness, the Harkonnen's lust for control is strengthened by Austin Butler’s deliciously evil performance. The Emperor shows cruel indifference and Irulan cowardly subservience. Because of their competing goals, these systems come about to wreak unspeakable devastation. Dune: Part Two is not an easy pill to swallow. That’s what makes it such an essential film. Denis Villeneuve delivers a harrowing warning to audiences about the true cost of the narrative we’re fed. Dune: Part Two refuses to be misinterpreted, its bravura spectacle is simply the delivery system for a story.

Villeneuve isn’t making a pastiche or compendium of allusions to other films; rather, he carves out something singular with Dune and its sequel, adding to his already impressive work in science fiction. On a purely technical level, Part Two is astounding. Production designer Patrice Vermette and costumer Jacqueline West return from Dune, creating spaces and outfits that look wholly original. At the same time, cinematographer Greig Fraser balances scopic, severe sequences with more spontaneous interpersonal moments. And while CGI accomplishes much of Villeneuve’s vision, there’s not an oppressive computerized quality to everything onscreen, unlike most contemporary blockbusters—even when the enormous sandworms arrive onscreen, their mouths vaguely resembling the human eye. Villeneuve shot many of the exteriors in Abu Dhabi and Jordan, but other sequences rely on CGI. A black-and-white sequence under the black sun of Giedi Prime, the Harkonnen home planet, delivers a convincing arena with special effects. Not even Hans Zimmer’s music reverberating through the viewer’s chest feels like the typical Hollywood score; it’s otherworldly and hypnotic, yet it s the thrilling aspects of the story with guitar riffs. Most of these technical areas earned the 2021 film its six Oscar wins, and the sequel deserves the same attention. It’s also worth noting how the stellar cast, one of the most stacked ensembles in recent film history, disappears into their roles effortlessly, thanks to the strength of Villeneuve’s storytelling.

Dune: Part Two further proves that a popcorn-munching, $150-million-plus production doesn’t need to be mindless entertainment; rather, it can be cerebral, ionate, and challenging. Villeneuve already proved as much with Dune—not to mention Arrival and Blade Runner 2049. He doubles down with the sequel, which may shock viewers who expect to follow Paul on a heroic rise to power. The audience may root for Paul at the moment because the Harkonnen looks like an awful alternative. But is Paul any better? Through Chani’s eyes, who knows Paul’s doubts and strategy more intimately than anyone, except perhaps Jessica, she sees the opportunism and scheming by the proposed leader, who so shrewdly chose the name Muad’Dib after a spry kangaroo mouse that can make its water. But Chani sees through all that. “You want to control people? Tell them a messiah will come. They’ll wait for centuries,” she tells him early on. The Bene Gesserit know this to be true; so does Paul, yet he cannot help but follow the path laid out for him. As I grappled with these ideas after the sequel, I must acknowledge my complete immersion into the film’s world; I was engaged on every level. It was fitting, for what must be one of the greatest science-fiction epics of all time.

In other words, Dune: Part Two matches the second part of the book on which it’s based. Both “parts” of Villeneuve’s grand vision form a watershed moment in sci-fi. More specifically, it takes the bones of extraterrestrial melodrama and simplicity that define a space opera and builds onto it to the point of becoming something new entirely. By refusing to shy away from the novel’s prescient themes, Dune: Part Two redefines the very notion of a space opera.

Villeneuve has delivered a cinematic achievement that’s unlikely to be rivaled anytime soon. His ambition was mighty, but, dammit, he’s pulled it off. Dune: Part Two is a spectacular blockbuster but it’s just as impressive in its introspection of fate, religion, and politics. It completely turns the atypical hero’s journey on its head and subverts expectations in ways you will not see coming. With a third chapter a total certainty, this feels like the 21st-century equivalent of The Empire Strikes Back. Yes, it’s that good. Thrilling, emotional, impressive, and undeniably entertaining, it’s everything we go to the cinema for and then some. Consequently, in an era where heroism and saviors are taken at face value, Dune: Part Two redefines what kind of stories blockbusters can tell. Yet, as Part Two makes clear, Villeneuve isn’t done with Dune, even if he’s already made his mark on sci-fi history. Now, the most compelling question is – what comes next?