Books to Movies: Verne and the Problem of the Travelogue Continued

Can the travelogue have a successful narrative arc?

Like most seeking-for-parents/family movies, In Search of the Castaways is a shaggy dog story, which means it is entirely in keeping with Verne's approach. As Wikipedia states about the book, the search for the children's father along the 37th parallel south provides A "pretext to describe the flora, fauna, and geography of numerous places to the audience."

That is, the search for the parent provides a pretext to send ordinary people into various dangerous and exciting situations. It's not that different from Hitchcock's Torn Curtain. 

This approach works with books in part because the individual chapters are rather like graphic novel/manga volumes--the adventure and momentary interactions are the point. Out of the Verne books I've read, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea grabs me the most (despite the singular inability to explicate Captain Nemo's motivations) because the under-ocean setting is so enthralling. I can imagine that for budding sci-fi readers in the late-1800s, Verne offered something that captured both the steampunk impulse and the exploration impulse.

On screen, however, I prefer more of a definitive narrative arc. 

So, can the travelogue be transformed into a arc? 

One of my mom's favorite novels, Nevil Shute's Trustee from the Toolroom, is a "searching" travelogue that would make a great movie! The main character--a non-wealthy, unassuming man of mechanical genius--has to get across the world by relying on contacts (nope, not email! contacts created through letters). He has to problem-solve various hiccups, including how to retrieve and safely guard his niece's inheritance from her dead parents' yacht. 

The parents thankfully don't turn out to be alive. And yes, frankly, I prefer that. I always found the BBC Little Princess far preferable to versions that keep the father alive. To me, that story is about survival and revelation, not about a return to the status quo. Likewise, Trustee is about the uncle doing everything he can for his niece, not about everything going back to what it was before.

Written in 1960, Trustee would now be a historical film!

In sum, one approach to turning a travelogue into a film is to present a series of events, cameos, and interesting settings. There's nothing wrong with that approach!

The other, as with Trustee, is to make the journey itself a matter of character development or revelation--that is, the characters solve problems rather than having things happen to them. In many ways, this solution is the mystery novel solution: the protagonist/traveler as detective moving towards an epiphany. 

Watch the Skyscraper Land!

It's astonishing--absolutely astonishing! (Scroll down in Free Press's article for the video.) 

The Possibilities of Wesley Crusher in The Next Generation

This summer I rewatched Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes. TNG is my type of sci-fi: an established setting in which endless "what if" stories can be played out. 

What I noticed this time surprised me: Wesley Crusher had potential. 

Like many people, I have always remembered Wesley Crusher as a Mary Sue, the kid with unexplainable and inexplicable (even geniuses need context) abilities, running about the Enterprise unsupervised. 

What I noted this time was that (at least) he has a story arc!

I'm not sure what it says about the current state of art in the world that at least Wesley Crusher has a story arc. But he does! 

Moreover, I got the definite impression that two story arcs were warring with each other. 

On the one hand is the Mary Sue arc: Wesley is brilliant, people should make allowances, etc. That arc is eventually paid off several seasons later when the Traveler returns. And apparently it is the arc that more recent shows have used.

The other is the arc of a ordinary, high-energy teen who wants to go into Starfleet. This arc begins to take precedence at the end of Season 1, almost as if a writer wrested control of Wesley's storyline from another writer.

For one, though I always remembered Wil Wheaton as being about 12 (that baby face!), the character was 16 by the end of Season 1 and nearly the same height as Patrick Stewart (growing boys!). In "Coming of Age" (Season 1), when he heads off to take the Starfleet exam, it is made absolutely clear that other teens on-board were also up for the exam.

In other words, the possibility of internships is written into the script...it never really takes off. I guess the future's child labor laws reared their head. But the possibility was a decent one.

Wesley is TOO noble in "Coming of Age"

but has an arc. (He could have struggled

more with the decision to help his peer.)

That is, Wesley could have come aboard as a teen with a mom who, for obvious reasons, is wary of encouraging his interests. But he is enamored with ship life and placed into the Enterprise's "learn about Starfleet by working in different departments of the ship" program. However, he can't continue unless he takes an exam, which is NOT to determine whether he gets into Starfleet but to verify that he can keep doing what he has been doing (so he is initially placed in the internship program as a favor by Picard to Wesley's mother but Picard has determined that now Wesley needs to go through the same procedure as everyone else). 

It doesn't make total sense that he would be on the bridge during seriously dangerous/high-risk/high-stakes missions. But it makes his presence slightly less weird. 

And I think this arc could lead to a fascinating issue that isn't truly addressed until Deep Space Nine--the fact that Miles O'Brien is a non-commissioned officer. Wesley could struggle with continuing on the ship he loves or going to the Academy (see Jamie's arc in Blue Bloods: his desire to remain a "beat cop" versus his personal ambitions and the expectations of his father and grandfather).  

I'm a big fan of improving a work with the material at hand. And the material is there. For all his faults with science-fiction--essentialism; the aliens are actually nice; it's only a misunderstanding; boy genius can do everything--Roddenberry was trained in classic sci-fi. There's a story there...even if the story could be tweaked.

Latest Publication: The Serpentine History of the Saint

This week, I published The Serpentine History of the Saint alongside revised versions of the current Myths Endure on Mars books:

The books follow a chronological order but can be read separately:

• Anubis on Mars: expanded with new cover! 
• Saint of Mars: expanded with new short story, "Lider's Exorcism"  
• Ithax's Offspring in Space 
• Nerites Among the Stars

The Serpentine History of the Saint: new publication! 

With the help of her investigators, Francesca Paraclete, a devil's advocate, researches the possible canonization of a medieval saint: Lady Margaret.

If canonized, Lady Margaret will be the first Siphon or mermaid saint. Frankie must consequently deal not only with difficult-to-access and interpret historical records, she must also handle political issues--those who support a Siphon becoming a saint; those who don't.

Her duties are complicated by a possible spy from the College of Cardinals, a cat-like being who insists on accompanying her everywhere, and her personal invisible consultant, a Cubus named Will who is possibly over 2,000 years old.

To  keep things simple, Frankie focuses on locating Lady Margaret's relics. Frankie, her spy, and her consultant start the search in Bamburgh Castle in Northern England. Their investigation will take them to the Faroe Islands, the Isle of Man, King Arthur's Carlisle, a holy well, several shrines, and Norton Priory. At each location, they encounter lore connected to the sea and possibly, hopefully, the true story of Lady Margaret.

The entire series is available on Amazon.

A is for Ambivalent Anderson: Repost from First A-Z List Updated

For the first A-Z List, I read fictional authors I'd never read before. 

These reposts are the original posts plus updated reading, either from the same author or an author within that letter. 

* * * 

Everybody's doing it! Everybody's reading stuff—the Encyclopedia Britannica, the Bible, the Guinness Book of World Records, 100 books in one year—and then reporting on their experiences. So I'm going to do it too!

I'm going to try to read a book from each letter of the alphabet by an author that I have never read before.

The first book I tried to read was The Day of Their Return (1974) by Poul Anderson.

My Science-Fiction Encyclopedia (ed. John Clute) includes Poul Anderson under its 1950s time period. It states "no other SF author...has produced as much high-quality work, with such variety, and with such continued verve, for anything approaching the half century of constant endeavor that Anderson can boast" and "Anderson has written one or two bad books in his time, but then, he can afford to."

I guess I tried to read one of the bad ones.

Now, when it comes to fantasy and science-fiction, there is a debate between how much exposition one should give the reader upfront. Should one just dump the reader into the story or should one provide the reader with massive upfront exposition?

The problem isn't the cover.

I like the cover!

In The Day of Their Return, Poul Anderson opts for the "here's the deep end, have fun!" approach. And I respect that. But I didn't get so much as a life preserver for four chapters, and I really can't tread water for that long. In terms of pure incomprehensibility (who ARE these people?), The Day of Their Return makes War & Peace look like a "Dick and Jane" book.

I will grant that I'm not much for world fantasy or science-fiction, but I react quite differently to my usual go-to writer for world sci-fi, C.J. Cherryh, specifically regarding her Foreigner series. 

Cherryh also throws readers into the deep end, but she then tows you, subtly, with enormous expertise, through fascinating circumstances towards a fascinating denouement: clear and lucid. 

Cherryh also utilizes intense third-person limited point of view, which I suggest accounts for the lucidity. Since we only know what the thinking/speaking character knows, and the thinking/speaking character is equally limited, surprises occur to both reader and character at the same time. There isn't a sense that the reader must keep guessing. 

Update in 2023:

Out of fairness, I decided to read another Poul Anderson (or try): The High Crusade. 

An alien spaceship lands in fourteenth century England. It is overtaken by Sir Roger de Tourneville, who moves his entire village on-board. His original intent is to take the ship to France and then to the Holy Land. It ends up in an alien, Wersgorix, empire. Eventually, Sir Roger conquers the empire. The history of that event is being read thousands of years later by a human captain who has chanced upon the descendants of these medieval spacefarers.

The novella is good!

For one, it has a single narrator, Brother Parvus, who is diffident, kindly, hardworking, occasionally blunt, and loyal to Sir Roger. Consequently, all the action is filtered through his understanding--since he is meeting events first-hand, he is able to explain them to his reader. 

For another, the attitude and behavior of Sir Roger is not reduced to "war-mongering Christian," which I greatly appreciated. Sir Roger uses Christian terminology when it suits him; he is also fully aware of the economic problem (the cattle have to eat), the diplomatic problem (new allies can only be told so much), and his personal problems (he has a doubtful wife and possible traitor at his back). Sir Roger is rough, shrewd, ruthless, yet also big-hearted and able to imagine long-term consequences. He is a kind of Charlemagne character--and Brother Parvus a kind of Alcuin. 

Moreover, the entire issue is not so simple as "bad invaders" and "advanced aliens." The "advanced" aliens are unprepared for hand-to-hand combat. The other aliens they have conquered detest them. And they cannot be trusted with the coordinates of Earth since they would bomb it from space. 

One of the more interesting outcomes is that Sir Roger replaces the fallen Rome-like Wersgorix Empire with feudalism, not out of evil socio-political wiles but because the prior empire hadn't shored up its local communities. When it falls, anarchy leaves a vacuum. Sir Roger replaces it with what he knows but also with what he knows will keep local communities potentially loyal. 

The use of feudalism as a stop-gap is a debatable point--but a valid one. 

Anderson is not fully accurate about medieval attitudes--for one, nobody believed the Earth was flat. Nobody. However, Anderson does capture Brother Parvus's willingness to parse what he sees and understands into terms he can translate, to others and to himself. 

The underlying reality: People adjust. Even medieval people in space.

Stargate & the Mary Sue: Why Daniel Isn't One

Literature Devil tackles what makes a Mary Sue character, sometimes male, often female. What makes a character a Mary Sue is debatable. Generally, as the attached video proposes, the Mary Sue is already good at everything. Doesn't have to learn. Doesn't have to grow. Doesn't have to make choices. Doesn't have to improve. Doesn't make mistakes. Instantly knows the right answers. Rises above the other characters by label, rather than merit and attainments. 

I postulate an additional definition. Recently, while rewatching Stargate (1994) for the fifth or sixth or seventh time, I noted that Daniel walks in and solves the initial inscription immediately. A ha: a genius!

So why is he less annoying than, say, Wesley on Star Trek: TNG?

The reason? He pays a price to get where he is. And he pays the price voluntarily. 

That is, Daniel is introduced to the viewer when he is trying to convince a group of fellow archaeologists of the "true" date of the pyramids. He waffles when asked, "So who do you think built the pyramids?" but sticks to his argument. His argument, moreover, is clearly the result of much study, as evidenced by the books and notebooks he lugs around. Despite his education, he still struggles to decipher the hieroglyphics on the capstones, evidenced by many sleepless nights. 

Moreover, his blithe assurance that he will be able to figure out the hieroglyphics on the other side of the Stargate turns out to be wrong. He is reliant on others to help him find the "tablets" so he can make the final link. This team trope from the movie is fully utilized in Stargate SG-1. 

Struggles without cost, I propose, is one of the problems of the Mary Sue. When a character doesn't have to risk in order to excel, the character is being applauded simply for existing/enduring, often (these days) for having the correct and proper and acceptable type of existence/endurance. (The ability to "endure" is a good quality that has been lifted to abnormal heights of reverence. It's one quality, not all of them.)

Another great example of a non-Mary Sue is Blizzard in One-Punch Man. Although gifted with enormous powers, she has taken a hard look at her circumstances. Amai Mask will never let her rise to "S" class. Does she struggle in the mid-"A"-range or stay at the top of the "B" level and shore up her position? 

Saitama listens to her more than he does her more powerful and constantly irritated sister. Despite his unstoppability, Saitama has a lovable weakness for drifters (mostly due to "been there done that still doing that" empathy). While he is rather at loose ends, he appears to respect those who make concrete choices, even if the choices aren't the best ones and not ones he would make  himself. (He argues with Blizzard; he also leaves her be.) Choice indicates risk, which Saitama no longer feels. Risk indicates the character willingly pays a price, even if--in the case of Daniel--the price is self-imposed exile from his profession.  

When the Self-Spoof Fails

A common episode approach for television fiction is the self-spoof. It usually occurs in Season 3 or later. By this point, the audience knows the characters so well that the writers can mock them (hopefully gently). Stargate did self-spoofs quite successfully on multiple occasions (here's one). So did Leverage. So did Buffy and Angel though with Buffy and Angel, a problem crept in.

The self-spoof should spoof the characters, not the audience. 

In one Murdoch Mysteries episode, Crabtree meets Lucy Maud Montgomery. He gives her writing advice and tells her a little about himself. When the novel Anne of Green Gables comes out, Crabtree declares, "She used parts of my life! Anne is me!"

The episode ends on that note, which is legitimately funny and cute since Crabtree is a clever, creative young man who likes to float several dozen different ideas by his superiors. He is entirely lovable. 

The next screen, however, contains a note that Lucy Maud Montgomery never in fact met Constable Crabtree. 

Okay, it's still funny and cute in a Goldman pretending to edit The Princess Bride way.

But the writers added, "(He's not real.)"

And the self-spoof becomes irritating rather than funny. 

The difference?

In the first case, the audience is invited to chuckle alongside the writers. The fans especially are invited to be amused--they are, after all, the ones who know the show backwards and forwards. (I'm not a fan since I watch Murdoch Mysteries the same way I watched The Mentalist--about one episode/disc. However, I still got both parts of the joke, being a fan of Sullivan's Anne of Green Gables series.) 

The addition of the parentheses immediately changes the self-spoof from a self-spoof into a rebuke: Silly audience members. Don't you know this is fiction?! What a bunch of dopes!

Stargate SG-1's self-spoofs work because the writers/producers/directors seem to be as amused by themselves as they are proud of their achievements. As the below video indicates, they may have encouraged Amanda Tappan to spoof her co-star, but they are also THRILLED to have Macgyver on set. (Hey, we got him.)

How Language Works: Cliches

In the opening scene to Poirot: Peril at End House, Hastings, played by the utterly sweet Hugh Fraser, comments on the scenery to Poirot: 

"Looks just like a patchwork quilt, doesn't it?"

Poirot, who dislikes small airplanes and small ships and anything, really, that goes up and down, refuses to look out the window. Eyes squeezed shut, he pronounces, "Non!" 

"Well," Hastings says, "it does to me. It does to anyone else."

"Not to Poirot!"

"I suppose you don't think that [the clouds] look like a mass of cotton wool."

"Non!" 

The joke is on clueless, sweet-tempered, cliche-speaking Hastings, but Hastings has a point. 

"It does to anyone else" is how humans manage to communicate. We decide that "X" is called a certain thing, making it possible for us to overcome the gap between Person A's understanding of X and Person B's understanding of X. 

The criticized yet beloved Star Trek: Next Generation episode "Darmok" takes this too far. But it underscores a valid point. Picard and the Tamarian captain learn to communicate by moving in the opposite direction to Hastings. The communication, "There's a monster" is only made possible after the men have shared individual stories about monsters. 

It is difficult to imagine any language continuing this way ("There's a monster" is so much easier and results in a lot less death) but the underlying point is valid: a common currency must exist. X needs to be recognizable to at least a majority of "everybody elses."

Picard luckily knows his mythology. 

Ah, a good reason to teach mythology! Be ready for when the aliens arrive!

Dune (2021) Review

REVIEW

I saw the movie the night of October 21st. It was the most opportune time. It turned out to be a unique experience: the first time in my life I've seen a movie before its official release date. The theater was full and the audience attentive--and the movie is nearly 3 hours long!--but then I suppose fans are already committed. A good reason to go when I did! 

Below is my list of what I hoped to see alongside commentary: 

*Spoilers*

 

1. The movie focuses on Paul immediately in the opening scenes and doesn't get bogged down by its own mysticism/mythology.

 

The movie doesn't begin with Paul. It begins on Arrakis, Chani narrating. My initial reaction was disappointment--except that in a very brief sequence, the narrator lays out the Atreides versus Harkonnen struggle. Bang! External conflict instantly established!

The movie never loses this focus. The emperor's minions are brought into the story but never the emperor. I was highly impressed.  

After the brief opening, the movie immediately moves to Caladan. It is exactly how I always imagined it--if a tad more Scottish (seriously, there are bagpipes). Settings and dream sequences emphasize Caladan's abundance of water versus the lack of water on Arrakis. Finally! Someone gets the point!

2. The movie gives Jessica due credit as a fully rounded character. She is neither diminished nor dropped on a pedestal.  

Played by Rebecca Ferguson, Jessica is an impassioned powerhouse. She is not as complexly presented as in the book, but I can allow for the difference. As mentioned elsewhere, movies are by the dictates of their medium tethered to the images they choose to present. The 1984 movie tried to do too much. The Dune miniseries tried to narrow its focus at odd moments, giving the series a haphazard feel. 

Dune (2021) keeps the focus on Paul, where it should be kept. I agree with this choice.

3. Paul as potential prophet is established early on. He is portrayed as neither a yuppie nor a war leader. 

Paul is our perspective into the story. Paul being played by Timothee Chalamet makes a difference. 

He is, for one, how I imagine Paul. If he reached adulthood on Caladan, he would become a friendly, relaxed, thoughtful, charismatic, yet somewhat removed and enigmatic leader. Send him to Arrakis: he becomes something else. But the elements are there already. 

Early on in the movie, Paul endures the test of the Gom Jabbar. Thankfully (since I always thought it was kind of tacky), we don't see his hand burning. All we see is his face as he reacts to the test. Chalamet may not yet have Freeman's extraordinary range of subtle facial movements; he is rapidly getting there. 

4. The Harkonnens are intelligent rivals, neither too awful (if memorable) nor too "everybody has a dark side!" token symbols. 

I still don't get how the Harkonnens could be in charge of anything. One thing these movies fail to realize is that evil men like Stalin had supporters--among intellectuals and among leaders drawn to a supposed adherence to their own philosophical wishes. 

The Britishers in Star Wars are at least amusingly dry.

Bad guys in drab cities sitting around bare metal rooms without furniture and then sinking into sludgy, oily baths are kind of...blah.

Frank Herbert gives the Harkonnens an Ancient Roman Caligula vibe, which is at least somewhat explanatory (bread & circuses). The movie doesn't.

The Baron is darkly intelligent. But still, I would think he would have multiple uprisings and riots on his own planet to worry about--not much time to deal with Arrakis. Oh, look, his people would say, it's a bad guy! He hangs around rooms with no chairs!

In justice, the movie isn't about the Harkonnens but about Paul. I have to commend that decision again. 

6. The movie is intelligently paced--the last two-thirds of the story has a decent flow.

I likely would have realized the following if I had watched previews and read up on the movie beforehand. I didn't. 

The movie is Book 1. 

About 1-1/2 hours (I presume) into the movie, I thought, "What is with these Dune scriptwriters? They aren't leaving enough time for the last 2/3rds. It's going to be a mishmash (again)."

Then, about two minutes later, I thought, "You dummy, Kate. It's Book 1."

I was impressed.

It's still a problem.  

6. Complicated Dune politics are explored, or at least referenced, through characters like Liet-Keynes. Other characters are combined.

Liet is massively underused. The exigencies of the script may have left the writers no choice.

I mention above: only the emperor's minions show up. The emperor doesn't make an appearance in Dune (2021). Nor does Princess Irulan. They don't need to! The political problem plays out intelligently without throwing every character in the book at the screen. I was extremely impressed. 

7. The movie isn't preachy. Not sure how it can be but everything seems to be these days. So--the Fremen are complex, not irritatingly self-righteous as The Victims. 

The movie isn't preachy. In fact, it adheres closely to the book's notable action sequences. These sequences carry the political/religious context. 

 

The problem is that unlike LOTR--which was, granted, split into 3 books by its publisher, not its author--Book 1 of Dune doesn't have a natural conclusion/wrap-up. By focusing on Paul (let me say again: awesome script choice!), the movie was able to end not on an upbeat note (the book doesn't have many of those) but on Paul's acceptance of his fate on Arrakis--or at least, on as much of that fate as he can foresee. 

 

Still, it's not exactly the same ending as Frodo parting from the Fellowship or the rescue of Helm's Deep or, even, Bilbo et al. escaping the Misty Mountains. I'm not saying Dune (2021) fails. I'm saying...

 

See below.

I don't think anyone in the audience was disappointed. I did hear one young man say to his friend, "The 'original' [his word] was half the time and covered the whole story." To which, someone in his group mentioned something about Book 1. I muttered it to myself. 

He wasn't complaining, however! His voice was one of wonderment. As my theater companion said, "I guess...2022." (The sequel, which will cover Books II and III, might not come out until 2023.) Various audience members paused outside the theater to  exchange thoughts. I don't know if they all approved of the movie, but nobody was saying, "Wow, what a waste of my entire Thursday night!" 

It is nice to go to an opening night with people who already care.

IN SUM

I was completely engaged by Dune (2021). The movie is well-worth seeing on a big screen. The focus on Paul (and through him) is one of the smartest script choices for a book-to-movie I've experienced. 

It is a problematic book to bring to screen. 

Here's why: 

There is a strong shift in tone at Leto's death. As soon as Paul and Jessica escape into the desert, the story veers in a new direction.

In the book, to a huge extent, the reader is prepared for the shift by the opening chapter blurbs, delivered (mostly) in the voice of Princess Irulan. The fatalistic essence of Paul's life's course is established. 

In the 1984 version, this tone is established early on, which I commend. It is not the scriptwriters' fault that Kyle MacLachlan is the least fatalistic-looking person in the universe. 

Not exactly Keir Dullea.

The miniseries didn't attempt to establish the fatalistic tone. The writers relied on the break in episodes, which was smart and the best approach overall. 

The 2021 movie establishes Paul's unique personality and fate, but the new tone after Leto's death is glaring. The movie should have ended with the escape from the palace, possibly with the descent into the storm. 

But it then would have become the most depressing mystical sci-fi movie since Hal started killing people off out there on a lonely space station. 

COVID could be to blame here. The sequel is still in pre-production. If the movie had come out as originally scheduled, the sequel may have been more of a certainty. The studio could have afforded a cliffhanger. 

As it is, the film editors gave the movie a resolution of sorts. 

(I have to wonder, how many fans based on previews, not fans of the book or prior movies, are rushing home this weekend to check out the book/prior movies?)

It is an odd circumstance since in a way the editors/studio had to opt for some kind of resolution as opposed to an aesthetically coherent film. I don't fault them for the choice--but--

It is a difficult book to render on film. 

Hmmm, how soon will a director's cut come out?

PRIOR REVIEWS:

Dune (1984)

Miniseries, Part 1

Miniseries, Part II 

Miniseries, Part III

 

Dune (2021) Preview

PREVIEW TO REVIEW

Dune always struck me as more in line with Highlander and other such franchises than, say, Peter Jackson's franchises. And I never entirely got the appeal of Highlander. I was interested in Dune (2021), but originally planned to see it sometime in the distant future on DVD.

My motive to head to the theater was the surprising choice of Timothee Chalamet as Paul. It was so entirely counter to previous choices (see Kyle MacLachlan and Alec Newman) though closer to Newman than to MacLachlan. But it indicated a vision of the book that outweighed previous renditions--and a willingness to go outside the obvious to complete that vision. That is, Chalamet had already made a name for himself but not in sci-fi. The choice was governed by ability and persona, not by box office credentials (he has them now).

I am always fascinated by books made into films since the attempt is so fraught with issues (and complaints from diehard book fans, who can never be satisfied). It is also rare to be in a position to compare high caliber (well-financed) films of a single source against each other--other than Jane Austen and Agatha Christie (and Agatha Christie films usually indicate no more than token interest in the books themselves). That is, Peter Jackson's LOTR is fairly definitive, simply because, well, who else is going to put in the same time and energy and money and thought? 

Dune attracts intensely invested investors. Unusually for books-become-movies, I was able to prepare by viewing two versions (theater and TV) that were highly applauded for their attempts (I also reread the book). 

So what about Dune (2021)? 

PRIOR REVIEWS:

Dune (1984)

Miniseries, Part 1

Miniseries, Part II 

Miniseries, Part III

Dune: The Miniseries, Part III

Part III is "The Prophet."

It moves at a faster pace than Part II and makes a more effective story. But the failures of Part II haunt it. 

I suspect one reason is that unhappy/conflicted prophets are difficult to portray. 

I argue elsewhere that religious conviction, of whatever type, is difficult to write about. Far too often, this difficulty is blamed on Hollywood agnosticism or antipathy to religion. This is an unfair argument since (1) religious practice and beliefs are far more prevalent/influential in American life than pro and anti arguments encapsulate; (2) even devotedly religious people kind of stink at writing about religious conviction.

Religious practice, yes. Religious conviction, no. It is so much easier to write about practice and rules.

At a calmer, more mundane level than Dune, Anne Tyler's Saint Maybe does a fairly good job of capturing the main character's uncertainty, his guilt, about his beliefs as well as the sect that he joins. There's a great conversation between him and the sect's leader in which the leader admits ruefully to doing the best he can when he declares the congregation should do X or Y. What will bring us together and reflect a common belief system this time?

Paul's troubles as a prophet begin directly after Leto dies. The 1984 movie ignores this path; the miniseries moves it into Part III and it seems abrupt and contrived rather than organic. He is closer to book Paul yet disconnected from Parts I & II Paul.

In a way, the miniseries errs in the opposite direction from the 1984 movie. It doesn't take the opportunity to build up the arcs of secondary characters, which would have made more sense of Part II and prepared the viewer better for Part III.

Again, Herbert knew what he was doing. I've read none of his other books, but Dune the novel earned its reputation. It's well-written and organized and scriptwriters should take it seriously as a source.

In fairness, visuals are different from words. As a possible solution, I would have moved up Paul's ride on the maker/sandworm to take place  at the end of Part II (since the miniseries was unwilling to spend more time on Jessica's arc). The act would protect his position within the Fremen as he came to terms with his larger role. Part III would then lead up to the final, ruthless, and terrifying decision by Paul to hold the spice hostage. (I figured out the impact of withholding spice, by the way, without any creepy navigator scenes.) 

The final duel is effectively done.

But perhaps there is no "best" solution. Despite its flaws, Part III of the miniseries is quite gripping. But would it have worked without Part II? Without even a weak Part II? 

Perhaps the problem is that world/universe fantasy/sci-fi is difficult in general to put on film. Lucas was writing space opera and should never have tried to make it something that made sense politically. Herbert wrote political fiction. Maybe it can't be translated.

Dune: The Miniseries, Part II

The remarkable aspect of Part II "Maud'Dib" in the book is that it doesn't feel completely out of sync with Part I. 

It does a little (how could it not?) and frankly, I would have been okay with a novel that kept Duke Leto alive, outmaneuvered the betrayal, and outwitted the baron, all from the central palace. Religious fanatics just don't do that much for me. Paul as a kind of Prince Hal character is more my style. 

But Herbert is a skilled writer. A sense of inevitability is built into the first part, so the second and third parts follow naturally. In addition, the tone is quite similar. And an outlawed prince is a classic trope.

The TV series intelligently broke at this point (following the organization of the book). Part II opens with Paul and Jessica's escape. The joining with Stilger, the rite of passage (the duel), the exposure to new customs and values are effectively done. 

The new name is thankfully the same as in the book. Paul chooses the name of a clever mouse that jumps and survives the desert (see image below). In the 1984 movie, Paul chooses a name already replete with heroic meaning (did I mention the lack of an internal arc in the movie?). 

In fact, in general, Paul of the series gets less annoying in Part II than in Part I and far, far less annoying than Paul of the 1984 movie.

In a way, Part I relies on Paul being young and untried. Kyle MacLachlan couldn't sell this aspect of the character, and Alec Newman struggles with it. After Part I, Kyle MacLachlan turns into Warrior Man. Alec Newman turns into Confused Guy, which is preferable and closer to the book (a movie doesn't have to be close to its book, but when the book does something well, the movie's failure stands out).

However, like in the 1984 movie, Part II of the series (the post-Leto story) still falls apart. Paul is presented as rallying the Fremen to rebellion. His "rah rah" urges aren't as bad as in the 1984 movie, but the behavior is still a subtle yet irritating inaccuracy that influences the story's tone. In the book, it is Stilger who bargains for Jessica's ability, not Paul who offers it. Paul finds himself in the middle of a revolution that is already in operation. He is the catalyst because he is perceived as fulfilling prophecy. His reaction to his vision after Leto's death and to subsequent visions is less than positive. He is struggling against a current. 

All I can suppose is that presenting montages of soldiers being trained is easier than sitting inside Paul's head (or creating action around what is sitting inside Paul's head). But the continuity stinks--for one, Jessica is pregnant in one scene and not pregnant in the next and then pregnant again. It is noticeably weird. In addition, for a series that went out its way to focus on the emperor, the absence of Count Fenring and his lady is disappointing. I guess the writers wanted to give Princess Irulan something to do, but why not combine her with Lady Fenring to begin with? That would be interesting!   

Here is where I get really irritated. I am a big believer that movies/series should not be slideshows of books--they should make changes (combine Princess Irulan with Lady Fenring, for instance) and reflect a different vision. But when the author does something right and the movie/series writers fail to recognize what the author does right, it's irritating. Herbert presses a great deal of action into Part II, including Paul taking on the responsibilities of Usul's boys and Jessica becoming the Reverend Mother. 

I can understand the series writers getting rid of Usul's boys (polygamy, even unconsummated, is a hard sell, says this product of ancestral polygamy). But moving the accession of Jessica out of Part II results in a sagging Part II. It starts out strong. It ends weak.

I also have one utterly unfair complaint. The actors all look so....hydrated! Fleshy. Well-fed. Well-watered. 

The Fremen of the book are tough and sinewy. And Herbert, without downplaying their attractiveness, sells their basic borderline comparative poverty. The reason Liet and then Paul want to terraform Dune is because it is a horrible place to live. Lack of resources just ain't that much fun. 

I understand that in a future book (or movie) some Fremen resent Paul's plans and the dissolution of their water-less culture. I find this entirely believable! Doesn't change the fact that constantly hunting for water is a less than tolerable way to live. 

With both the movie and the series, simply looking at the beautiful, non-starving actors, I couldn't help but think, "Seriously, folks, what's all the fuss about?"   

Timothee Chalamet always kind of looks pared down to his bones--but photo stills of the upcoming movie don't encourage me to believe that this issue has been solved for the Fremen in general. 

I guess most actors aren't willing to starve themselves for a part like Donnie W.

Dune: The Miniseries, Part I

I review the 1984 movie here. 

The first episode raises the question of whether Dune is sci-fi or fantasy. 

The setting is more deliberately sci-fi than in the 1984 movie. Star Trek meets 2001 and Battlestar Galatica and Star Wars: Lots of sliding doors. Lots of chrome. Lots of flat screen computers.

And then the navigator shows up and mysticism enters the picture. 

It's frankly not my style. I prefer Firefly, where the mysticism is part of the universe, not a thing that arrives to force the universe to function. Cowboys in space, not spacemen who turn into cowboys or angels or gods when a deus ex machina is required.

I also didn't remember the navigator. Out of sheer bewilderment, I went back to the book. Does Herbert really go into such detail on the navigators in the first book? 

No--maybe it is mentioned somewhere, but the novel's action skips from Caladan to Dune, which is the kind of writing I like. For all I know, Herbert was criticized for not "showing" the voyage. However, the navigator/spice stuff seems to be a later issue pushed back into the first movie/series.

Alec Newman is closer to the Paul of the book but still too old and still too yuppie belligerent. Interestingly enough, William Hurt as Leto comes closer to what Paul is supposed to be--quiet, thoughtful, careful, calculating. But then prodigies are difficult to sell on screen--and only slightly easier in books. 

Alec Newman's Paul does grow and learn as he begins to come to terms with Arrakis. But I don't find him entirely likable. The death of Leto is shocking, in part because it robs viewers of the best actor and most sympathetic character in the story.

My biggest problem with the first episode, however, is that the palace on Arrakis is kind of nice, all of it, not just the arboretum. 

Now, I do give the miniseries major points for people actually wearing clothes that look comfortable--I've never understood fantasy and sci-fi series that truss up people to the point where, well, they have to keep tugging down their shirt fronts when they get out of a chair--

However, I'm just not sure that Dune is supposed to look comfortable. It is wealth that draws the ruling families to the planet, not a cozy lifestyle. Yet the miniseries conveys no sense of desolation or desperation as Paul begins to realize, even before his father's death, that he can never leave the place. The water shortage is presented as a problem that can be resolved through noblesse oblige, not a condition of hardship that haunts the entire planet.

On the plus side, the Harkonnens are far more intelligible as a ruling family than in the 1984 film.

And the story, as story, works--if one ignores the mysticism (which I mostly do). Overall, the miniseries approach allows the mythos to exist alongside the plot. The pace is superior by far to the 1984 movie. 

Reviews of Parts II and III to come...

Dune: The Prior Movie

In preparation for the upcoming Dune movie, release date October 22nd, I reread the book. I'm now rewatching the best-known movies: Dune 1984 and the Dune miniseries, 2000. I suppose if there's a version out there with gnomes, I'll watch that too!

First, Dune, David Lynch, 1984.

The strangest thing about this movie is that Dune is not a complicated plot. And Frank Herbert doesn't present it as complicated. The book starts by introducing the reader to Paul, not to Paul learning about Dune, not to Paul as a threat to the emperor. But Paul as the hero about to be tested and set on his quest.

The movie starts, fascinatingly enough, with Princess Irulan. But it then skips to guild stuff and honestly, who cares? 

Okay, Dune votaries may, but I don't. And when it comes to storytelling, the best approach is to quickly identify the hero's quest and/or the hero. 

Star Wars (the first Star Wars--Star Wars IV) starts with Princess Leia--that is, it starts by introducing the quest, the person and plans that will propel the hero into individual action. Lynch's Dune starts with background on Arrakis, then skips to the guild and the emperor, then skips to Paul, then produces a lot of discussion. 

The result: the movie appears to be written by people who LOVE the Dune mythos, not by people trying to tell a story. And they give too much away too early. The book--because, ya know, Herbert is a decent writer--allows the action on Arrakis to unwind naturally. The only "give away" the reader is provided upfront is the name of the traitor. Even there, the moment of betrayal is a shock to the system since it comes without warning (though later in the text than I had remembered).

Perhaps the reason for the lack of focus (I'm thinking of the film editors now) is that Kyle MacLachlan as Paul is not that appealing a character. He comes across as a yuppie who decided to take an extreme sports vacation. The Paul of the book from page one is reserved, self-controlled, reflective, unusually objective (even before his vision after Leto's death), and somewhat uncanny. His youth explains his occasional immaturity, not his inherent personality. Kyle MacLachlan in 1984 was too old to get away with this. (Interestingly enough, both actors debut the role at age 25, but Timothee Chalamet looks younger than his years, and Kyle MacLachlan looked older. Alec Newman was 26--I'll get to him later.)

I've noted elsewhere that Timothee Chalamet is a gifted actor. He also looks the part. I try not to raise my expectations too much before a release, but in other roles, Chalamet captures "uncanny" quite well. So my hopes are reservedly high-ish. (I would really rather I had none--but hey, investment is investment!).

Things I like about the 1984 version:

1. The voiced internal dialog is quite effective. 
2. The movie includes the scene where the Duke prioritizes the men over the spice.
3. The Harkonnens are disgustingly awful, the ultimate decadent and self-serving aristocrats. They are memorably terrible, irredeemable bad guys. Not entirely credible as a ruling family--but effective. 
4. So many great sci-fi folks show up! Dean Stockwell, Patrick Stewart, Brad Dourif (go figure!), Max van Sydow, and Linda Hunt, who hasn't done that much sci-fi, but, ya know, it's Linda Hunt!
   

Major problem overall: The movie doesn't establish Paul and the conflict upfront. It spends too much time on background details that the audience honestly probably doesn't care about (I honestly, really, totally don't care how ships gets from Point A to Point B: warp drive, spice, folding space, a magic door: whatever). It spends too much time on Caladan, reducing the last 1/3rd or so of the film to a mishmash of "and then Paul became really esteemed...fight scene!" 

The problem with the mishmash is that 1984 Paul is presented as a military leader. He isn't. He is a reluctant prophet/messiah who is trying to head off a jihad through specific choices and actions, and it is not entirely clear if he succeeded. Stilgar and others are his military arm. Without that insight, the film after Leto's death lacks any kind of character growth. 

I originally blamed this lack of growth on the book. But there's plenty of inner conflict in the book's second half. Paul gets a little boring when he has his vision, but he continues to maneuver partly in the dark. His uncertainty makes him interesting! 

Dune 1984 is a compelling example of a movie that indicates deep fan love--yet, weirdly enough, bypasses the book for the idea. It might have been better to focus on the book. 

Lessons from Fan Fiction & Star Trek: The Motion Picture: There's Nothing There

Over the summer, I decided to watch (most) of the original Star Trek films (okay, I skipped VI--sorry, Shatner).

I started with The Motion Picture. I saw it years ago and remembered it as sort of a waste of time, but hey, sometimes, my memory plays tricks on me.

It didn't.

That is one incredibly boring film.

The major problem, of course, is that it is trying so hard to be 2001 and what became Dune (which went through several hands before 1984), it doesn't settle for being its campy self. I've mentioned elsewhere that I'm a big fan of work in a genre/franchise being the best it can be in that genre/franchise. Frankly, 2001 is boring too, but it's good boring--that is, it does what it is supposed to do as itself (I can't speak for Dune since the book and the movies enter Highlander territory, as in they have followers--okay, I try to here).

Because The Motion Picture is trying so hard to be something else, it doesn't invite a celebration of that universe. In sum, it fails to have fun. The costumes are boring. The ship is boring. The many, many shots of the ship going places or people approaching the ship or people approaching the entity or characters watching all this happen are boring.

Ultimately, there's nothing there.

None of this nothingness is helped by The Motion Picture's plot. It is based around a classic Star Trek/sci-fi trope (object in space has supposedly mysterious origins and a mission of death) but the problem seems almost entirely disconnected from the characters. The plot relies instead on unnecessary complications to lend the trope profundity it doesn't deserve ("The Doomsday Machine" is not one of my favorite original episodes; it is still better than The Motion Picture).

 

When I tried to give my TOS fan-fiction characters things to do during The Motion Picture mission, I couldn't come up with much. I finally put one of my characters to work performing autopsies on the officers who get killed in the transporter accident--uh, I guess the tissue got rebeamed to the Enterprise. Not technically, but I had to give the folks in the medical bay some work as opposed to them staring at the instruments in awe: Look at the color scheme!

 

In comparison, my characters had TONS to do in Wrath of Khan: investigating possible sabotage of the Genesis Project, search and rescue attempts, triage, duties on the bridge.  

My characters had so much to do in Wrath of Khan, not because Wrath is complicated. Its plot is quite simple, being neither strained nor complex. One could even argue that it is less complex than The Motion Picture. Guy known to the crew wants revenge. He quotes great lines from the nineteenth century while starships behave like sea ships from the nineteenth century  (with the additional three-dimensional stuff, so I guess Das Boot crept in there). Crafty maneuvers. Heroic sacrifices. Hey, where's Ioan Gruffudd!? 

 

Yet despite its deceptive simplicity, Wrath of Khan--unlike The Motion Picture--is fully invested in its universe. My characters had things to do because Starfleet and its friends and enemies were no longer observers but participants.

Thank you, Nicholas Meyer.

The lesson: stories do best when they are written by people who love the genre/series/franchise/world AS CREATIVE FANS, not as star-struck overly awed sycophants. --I added the last phrase based on comments :)