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| Dune (2000) |
Midway through Frank Herbert’s Dune (directed by John Harrison, 2000), young, deposed royal Paul Atriedes encounters a mouse in the wilderness of the desert planet Arrakis. For Paul, it's a momentary yet pivotal scene: the Atriedes heir goes on to assume the mouse's name, mua'Dib, and become a messiah figure for humankind. For the audience, it is a moment of decision: to believe in the magic of the film—or to reject it.
When I first watched Dune during its Sci-Fi Channel premiere twelve years ago, the scene jarred me, the mouse clearly stop-motion. I wanted to like Dune, but I couldn't get past the creature's jerky, clockwork movements.
And it wasn't just the mouse. Elements of the film broke my immersion in scene after scene: an unrealistic lighting effect, the seam lines on a backdrop, a character that was clearly a puppet. I wanted to love Dune, with its interstellar machinations, desert tribes, and richly-drawn personalities, but I couldn't. The visuals killed it.
I'm a little older and marginally wiser now. Looking back, I can see how science fiction epics have evolved over the last couple decades, and I'm prepared to make two claims:(1) that sci-fi cinema faces a significant problem with creating immersive realities, and (2) that, in retrospect, Dune epitomizes not the problem but a solution.
Dune, in fact, does some things very right. So, let me explain why the clockwork mouse matters—and why you’d be making a mistake to reject Dune the way I did twelve years ago.
When I first watched Dune during its Sci-Fi Channel premiere twelve years ago, the scene jarred me, the mouse clearly stop-motion. I wanted to like Dune, but I couldn't get past the creature's jerky, clockwork movements.
And it wasn't just the mouse. Elements of the film broke my immersion in scene after scene: an unrealistic lighting effect, the seam lines on a backdrop, a character that was clearly a puppet. I wanted to love Dune, with its interstellar machinations, desert tribes, and richly-drawn personalities, but I couldn't. The visuals killed it.
I'm a little older and marginally wiser now. Looking back, I can see how science fiction epics have evolved over the last couple decades, and I'm prepared to make two claims:(1) that sci-fi cinema faces a significant problem with creating immersive realities, and (2) that, in retrospect, Dune epitomizes not the problem but a solution.
Dune, in fact, does some things very right. So, let me explain why the clockwork mouse matters—and why you’d be making a mistake to reject Dune the way I did twelve years ago.
Spoilers after the jump.
