The desert inspires a deep sensation of isolation in one's heart. It provokes inevitable introspection. Like a microscope, the desert magnifies our existential fears. Stripped down from any social construction, and in direct contact with the vertigo of infinite space and time, we are left naked. The desert brings us back hypnotically to our very own human condition. - Denis Villeneuve
Up to the point when I saw David Lynch’s ‘Dune’ (1984) in the cinema, I had been preconditioned to think that SF movies were all like ‘Star Wars’. Lynch blew that notion out of the water – well, buried it in sand and spice and weirdness – and at the same time changed my view of the power and potential of cinema.
It was sometime later that I managed to get hold of a copy of ‘The Making of Dune’ by Ed Naha, which began a lifelong obsession with the minutiae of moviemaking. Perfunctorily written and filled with grainy half-page black-and-white photographs, the book still struck a deep chord with me. Far from dispelling the magic of the movie, it made me appreciate the obsession of the director in getting his singular vision onto the screen, let alone the vast collaboration behind every single frame.
Ed Naha’s book is light years from the lavish ‘making of’ books that accompanied Peter Jackson’s ‘Lord of the Rings’ trilogy, up to then the gold standard. Crucially, there were separate books dedicated to the concept drawings and movie art alone. Somewhere in the middle of these two high points are J.W. Rinzler’s exhaustive accounts of the making of the first ‘Star Wars’ trilogy. And I do mean exhaustive: Every single script variation and spurned idea is accorded the same amount of reverence as any second of screen time of the finished product.
And then you have a genius like Tanya Lapointe, who combines the fixation on detail of Naha and Rinzler with the artistic vision that made the LOTR making-of books so special. It is quite deliberate that this book is called ‘The Art and Soul of Dune’, for it is as much about the creative process of world-building that such an adaptation calls for as much as it is about the filmmaking process itself.
A producer on the movie herself, Lapointe gives an incredibly vivid account of the herculean undertaking this movie was, which saw 45 sets built on five soundstages on Budapest. Even the backlot was put to good use to create the sense of scale that was mandatory. In addition, location work took place in Jordan, Abu Dhabi, Norway, and the Mojave Desert in California.
The contents of the book are quite straightforward: An ‘Introduction’ by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson, and an essay entitled ‘This Is Only The Beginning’ by Denis Villeneuve himself, is followed by separate chapters on ‘Caladan’, ‘Giedi Prime’, ‘Salusa Secundus’, ‘Arrakis’, ‘The Attack’, ‘Deep Desert’, ‘Fremen’ and an ‘Epilogue’.
Each chapter recounts how that world or key narrative point was brought to life, including its principal characters. There are tons of behind-the-scenes trivia about the prop making and production design, as well as the costumes and visual effects, but the detail never feels overwhelming or redundant.
Some diehard cineastes may feel cheated in not being told what lenses DP Greig Fraser used, but this is not that kind of book. I must say I am surprised there is nothing about the score or sound editing, but it is entirely possible Lapointe’s 2020 deadline preceded the actual movie even being finished.
A lot of what looks like actual stills from the movie, spread over two glorious pages apiece, are stunning concept art and drawings. Many of these were translated directly into sets, replete with lighting design and camera angles.
There are a number of surprises here in terms of filmed scenes that did not make the final cut. Perhaps the most controversial is Gurney Halleck playing the baliset. Not only is there is a still from the actual filmed scene featuring Josh Brolin, Lapointe goes into some detail about how the instrument was brought to life, with a ballad based on Herbert’s words and a melody by Hans Zimmer.
I am unsure if this was an unintentional outcome of Lapointe’s focus in the text, but I was surprised at how much final say the Herbert Estate, spearheaded by son Brian Herbert, had over the final movie. For example, it is clear that cut scenes like ‘Duncan’s Drop’ were, well, dropped as they did not adhere to ‘canon’.
There are other telling revelations such as the Herbert Estate insisting that Arrakeen look more like a ‘government building’ than a ‘palace’, which is rather odd. What is also clear is that the Herbert Estate were intending a franchise when they initially sold the rights to Legendary Pictures, so it is uncertain how much Villeneuve’s ‘two-movie’ dictum was actually influenced by this requirement.
This is quite a pricey item (not to mention the fantastic signed limited edition), so I opted for the much cheaper ebook. I was a bit nervous before my purchase, as the physical object is a fantastic collectors’ item that will stand proud on any SF fan’s bookshelf.
But I was relieved that the ebook works a treat, allowing for awesome full-screen panoramas of the artwork (without the page binding). Plus, you can zoom in to your heart’s content. This visual treasure trove is highly recommended for all Dune and movie fans in general.