The curtains draw closed on the grand finale of the majestic series, Dune: Prophecy, which graced our screens over the weekend. As we pause to reflect on the series in its entirety, a realization dawns upon me – a flaw that looms large over the show like a shadow at dusk: it presupposes an innate passion for the world of Dune from its audience.
Verily, it is not my intent to dispute the existence of fervent devotees who hold Dune dear to their hearts. Indeed, there are many who cherish Dune in a profound and defining manner. But what I do contend is that Warner Bros. and the esteemed showrunner, Alison Schapker, operate under the assumption that every soul under the sun holds an equal ardor for Dune as a universe, rather than as mere spectators to two phenomenal films. A weighty assumption, one that guides not only the creative choices of the series but also charts the course for the entire franchise with the debut of Dune: Prophecy as its inaugural foray into the realm of franchisedom.
Alas, the fruit of this labor seems lacking.
Dune stands as an undeniable triumph after years of grappling with Frank Herbert’s prodigious, seminal, groundbreaking, and genre-defining opus. Warner Bros. finally cracked the code with the resplendent Dune of 2021 and its sequel in 2024, helmed by the visionary Denis Villeneuve. These two cinematic marvels not only captured the intricate tapestry of the novel but also captivated audiences with their breathtaking spectacle. They stood tall as beacons of box office success, paving the way for Warner Bros. to embark on the journey of expanding these two cinematic jewels into a vast universe and sprawling franchise.
A prudent move on WB’s part. Expanding upon these cinematic triumphs – derived from a beloved sci-fi saga rich with tens of thousands of pages of lore and a dedicated fan base – is as clear as the noonday sun. Novel sales soared, the movies garnered accolades, and the lead actors shone as the brightest stars in the firmament. From a business standpoint, there exists no cogent argument against furthering the Dune legacy. Even from the perspective of a fan, one would be hard-pressed to resist the allure given the quality and triumph of the films. Thus, my qualm is not with the proliferation of more Dune movies and shows, but rather with the approach taken.
Enter Dune: Prophecy.
In the eyes of many, unfamiliar with the near biblical tome that is Dune (a daunting conquest even for the most ardent of Herbert acolytes), their introduction to this world is through the prism of the two films. These films focus heavily on the ascension of Paul Atreides as the Fremen’s messiah. For myriad souls, the essence of Dune revolves around Paul Atreides, owing in no small part to Timothy Chalamet’s charisma. Consequently, the narrative surrounding the Bene Gesserit, the enigmatic female order shaping the universe’s destiny from the shadows, assumes a secondary role in the films. It is viewed more as foundational mythos rather than an expansive narrative. Yet, WB chose to thrust this order into the spotlight with Dune: Prophecy, unaware that few souls have forged an emotional bond with them.
Throughout its episodic odyssey, the series presumes familiarity with the Bene Gesserit and the intricacies of Dune’s world, a presumption as absurd as assuming the moon to be made of cheese. The show plunges us headlong into a universe it deems we have already inhabited, a universe replete with byzantine political dynamics we have purportedly spent eons unravelling. But such intricate political intrigue remains elusive when the stakes remain inscrutable to the uninitiated masses, save for a handful of personal narratives. Alas, Dune: Prophecy endeavors to spin a yarn of political machinations and schemes, assuming an intimacy we are yet to cultivate.
And thus, Dune: Prophecy unfurls its banner, disconnected from the sweeping vista of the Dune films. It stands solitary, tethered to its cinematic brethren by the slenderest of threads. Set millennia before the events of the films, the series treads a path that diverges from the familiar trails trodden by Paul Atreides and his ilk. A tentative link emerges in the exploration of the genetic lineage that culminates in Paul’s birth, a connection so delicate that only the most astute observer might discern its fragile strands. The assumption that audiences possess an intimate knowledge of Dune’s lore leads to the introduction of an entirely new cast, linked by tenuous threads to the narrative that enraptures the masses.
A chasm of ten millennia yawns between the two, yet the societal landscape remains eerily unchanged. The series unfolds in a world akin to the one witnessed in the films, a paradox that shrouds the narrative in a cloak of confusion. House Harkonnen diverges from its cinematic counterpart, while a new cohort of Bene Gesserit sisters emerges from the shadows. They are presented as if we should already be enmeshed in their tapestries of ambition and purpose. Alas, the world of Dune has yet to blossom into a sprawling tapestry; it has only told a tale anchored in a singular focus.
Let it not be misconstrued that the series lacks intrigue or that an adaptation of Sisterhood of Dune is misguided. Yet, even the most fervent disciples of Herbert’s tomes cast a wary eye upon the continuation novels penned by his progeny. One cannot help but question WB’s decision to delve deeply into a narrative so removed from the established lore. Delving into the recesses of lore stands not as vice but as virtue; yet, to unfurl these tales before the world at large, unacquainted with the world they seek to engender, leaves the series adrift.
Perhaps herein lies the key to the disconnect experienced by audiences and critics alike – the bewilderment, the ennui that permeates their encounters with Dune: Prophecy. Despite resplendent visuals, a stellar cast, and a narrative steeped in intrigue, the series falters in its assumption that our hearts are already tethered to its tale. Alas, the edifice of the franchise lacks the foundation upon which such deep lore may thrive, leaving audiences adrift in a sea of indifference.
