The Ecology of “Dune”
Image courtesy of Inverse.com.
Franklin Herbert, Author of Dune, was not a novelist. Nor was he a photographer or journalist, though those professions occupied more of his life than fiction writing ever did. First and foremost, Herbert was an ecologist.
Born in 1920, he was raised in an increasingly industrialized America. Working as a journalist through the end of the Great Depression and serving as a photographer during World War II, Herbert saw an era defined by the production, and, more importantly to him, the consumption of resources. As he wrote his novel Dune in the 1950’s, the concepts of environmentalism and ecology mainly consisted of the effective use of natural resources, the preservation of existing wilderness, or some combination of the two. Though Herbert would go on to shape the environmentalist movement of the ‘60s, his path to fame was far from smooth. He was rejected by more than twenty publishers before Chilton Company—known for printing automobile manuals—agreed to print Dune. When the book was ultimately published in 1965 it was far from a commercial success; its content, though, was on the cutting edge of literature in more ways than one.
Although science fiction was not a new genre, Herbert’s style of “soft” science fiction certainly was. Up until the 70s and 80s, science fiction dealt almost entirely with the technological advances humanity might make far in the future. The plot of any contemporary sci-fi novel hinged on futuristic weapons and technology and fantastic worlds filled with mysterious creatures. Herbert, however, focuses less on those “hard” sciences. The futuristic setting of Dune, in these ways, is a backdrop to the study of what society can become on such a massive time scale, focusing on ideas in religion and philosophy rather than physics or biology. This, along with works by the likes of Ursula K. LeGuin, constitutes soft science fiction by using the sub-genre to explore political, philosophical, and religious ideas instead of strictly technological development. And, rather than fulfilling the then-classic trope of white-hero-unites-the-uncivilized-natives, the main character in Dune finds himself drawn into and ultimately changed by the alien Fremen culture in which he is quickly immersed. This alone makes for a good story, but in a time when science fiction was almost exclusively made up of shallow, mass-produced pulp fiction, Dune was groundbreaking.
The connection between a historic work of science fiction and ecology may not seem clear at first, and, to be fair, it was not immediately clear to me either. The environmental side of Dune can be easily mistaken for a passing subplot, but this is a case of not seeing the forest for the trees. It is, after all, this subplot that makes every part of the book possible, and it lies at the heart of the conflict, not for the main character, but for the people indigenous to the planet Dune takes place on. This planet is Arrakis, an inhospitable desert wasteland, the sandy backdrop for which the book is named. While its colonizers export valuable minerals collected from the planets’ barren surface, Arrakis’s indigenous inhabitants, a nomadic culture referred to as the “Fremen,” live forgotten in a desolate wasteland. The focus on the landscape of Arrakis and its history reveals ecological underpinnings that spoke to environmentalist attitudes of the 1950s and 1960s. Throughout the novel, we learn that Arrakis was not always dry, and with minimal effort and infrastructure, it is possible to set long-halted natural processes in motion again to transform the desert planet into a tropical paradise—or at least a more hospitable world than it is currently. Terraforming Arrakis, however, would make it far more difficult for the valuable resources to be harvested from the planet’s surface, so, for the benefit of the colonizers, the planet remains dry.
Again, this first strikes the reader as a secondary plot to the main theme of the novel: that power-hungry colonizers keep the planet desolate in their own best interests. It’s an interesting but hardly revolutionary idea, even in the ‘50s. But this is the most important theme in the entire book, conveying a message that was very important to the author. Herbert was writing Dune in a time when most people had never heard of the word ecology, let alone the concept of encouraging biodiversity in the modern sense. Terraforming a planet might not seem like a pinnacle of ecological activism to us now, but it was a downright revolutionary idea then. Though a small step from our perspective, this was the most powerful message within Dune, and the one Herbert was most inspired to share. It is one of ecological independence, and freedom from environmental oppression. It speaks of obligation—and self-made destiny.
This is a lot to fit into one movie, or even three. With two failed attempts at a movie adaptation, the stakes were certainly high. This new film, directed by Denis Villanueve, was set up to either fail terribly or succeed wildly. My conclusion? Somewhere in between. It was good—sort of. Personally, I walked out of the theatre ecstatic, reveling in Hans Zimmer’s gorgeous soundtrack and the evocative, overwhelming adaptation of a great work of literature. In retrospect, it makes me question the role of a movie adaptation in this era of filmmaking.
Though capturing the plot of Dune, the movie nevertheless misses the spirit that made the novel so critically acclaimed. There is no ecological undertone, no philosophical discussion, no thought-provoking message. Without that fire—the quality that made Dune a pillar of modern fiction—the movie becomes pointless. Because for all its critical acclaim, Dune was never terribly successful. Three years ago, most people had never heard of it, and I daresay in ten years, it might once again be forgotten.
To ask more of Hollywood is setting an awfully high bar, I must admit. Villenueve already stayed closer to the book’s plot than I had anticipated. It would be difficult to stay any truer to the original without becoming too slow-paced for the cinematic medium, not to mention many hours long. What then could have been done to carry that life into the movie? In my opinion, it’s the ecology of Dune that’s missing. Basically nothing is said about the possible terraforming of Arrakis; the movie never mentions the history of the planet’s desert wastelands or how life has struggled to survive in these harsh conditions. The story of Arrakis’s terraforming and ecological rebirth is almost entirely absent from the movie, forgotten in the wake of murder plots and epic montages. Characters are supposed to spend years learning about Arrakis, yet we only see them briefly studying its political history. Even when meeting one of the main characters, a resident ecologist on the planet Arrakis who serves to debrief the royal family (and the audience) on the ecological history of the planet, they only talk about the planet’s economy and its gargantuan sand worms. Don’t get me wrong, the sandworms are cool, but surely a little bit of screen time could have been afforded to the rich ecological history that Herbert felt was so important to include. Without it we lose not just the context for the story but its most important message.
If you’ve read Dune, this is a must see. It provides an epic visual companion to an already epic story and uses the resources of a theater’s screen and sound system to great effect. 10/10.
If a few sword fights and a great musical score are enough to keep your attention, you will still probably love this movie. Intense action sequences and characters combine with a unique setting to make an engaging experience. 8/10.
If you don’t fit into either of those categories… Dune doesn’t have much to offer. This movie easily blends into the futuristic action genre, and will probably be forgotten in a few months. Do yourself a favor and watch Star Wars instead; it’s basically the same, and you’ll get more cultural references. 5/10.