Last month, the US talk show host Jimmy Kimmel called out Oscar voters for snubbing Spider-Man: No Way Home – the biggest superhero movie of the last year. “Why do Best Picture nominees have to be serious?” Kimmel lamented. “When did that become a prerequisite for getting nominated for an Academy Award?”
Kimmel posed a question with no possible answer: what makes a movie good? If it was down to popularity, then Marvel Studios head Kevin Feige would have a mantlepiece glittering with Oscar trophies. But he doesn’t. A film does not have to be good from an artistic point of view to be popular and yet its popularity should not be ignored either.
Out of all the Best Picture nominees this year, Dune is the only real blockbuster, the rest not coming close in terms of box-office gross. Dune took $400m (£303m) worldwide, a figure that’s even more astonishing due to its mid-pandemic release and simultaneous streaming debut. Meanwhile, Spielberg’s West Side Story – the second highest-grossing movie in the nominee list – took home an incomparable $75m (£56m).
My condolences to Mr Kimmel, but Dune also offers something that No Way Home doesn’t: artistic merit in spades. Director Denis Villeneuve manages to draw the audience into an entirely alien galaxy without it ever being overwhelming, through expert cinematography, sound design and costuming. It is a masterclass in world-building.
Dune is Villeneuve’s magnum opus, an obsession that began in childhood, which the French-Canadian director has been unusually candid about. “I spent decades imagining Dune,” the director wrote for Vanity Fair last year, “several years actually writing and creating it ... The full journey has taken most of my life.”
Most directors don’t like to admit that one or more of their projects pales in comparison to any of their others, but Dune was Villeneuve’s life ambition and he’s proud of it. The time and care taken over the film is evident all over, but most significantly the score by Hans Zimmer. Here, it takes place of a narrator, explaining to the audience through omnipresent sounds the danger of certain beings, the mysticism of new lands, the drama of battle. Scraping metal, Irish whistles, throat singing and distorted bagpipes are all tools that Zimmer uses to create a discombobulating, otherworldly atmosphere.
Meanwhile, the performances are not what people tend to talk about when they talk about Dune. The characters in this story help move the plot along rather than being the centre of the plot themselves. That said, every performance is assured and Timothée Chalamet is born to play the Duke, Paul Atreides. As the powerful, conflicted aristocrat, Chalamet perfectly conveys a young man who has grown up surrounded by privilege; there is an arrogance he wears alongside his nobility and his compassion.
In her review for The Independent, film critic Clarisse Loughrey wisely compared Dune to Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. Like LOTR, a fantasy saga with mainstream appeal, Dune is a sci-fi film that even the biggest sceptic could watch and enjoy.
A sci-fi movie has never won the top prize at the Oscars. The original Star Wars in 1977 came closest over four decades ago, but was beaten by Woody Allen’s Annie Hall. History is due to be repeated on Sunday, when the Best Picture gong will likely go elsewhere, and not to one of the most popular films of the year. Whatever happens on the night, though, at least everyone involved in Dune will be able to say: “People actually went to see it.”
