Behold! Denis Villeneuve has adapted Frank Herbert’s iconic 1965 science-fiction novel Dune with all the might and majesty of a true maestro. A verifiable fireworks-show of audio-visual brawn and storytelling prowess, Dune as translated by Villeneuve is a rare cinematic treat that implodes on the screen, sucking audiences into a dizzying vortex of feuding empires, space zen, and chosen-one heroics, resulting in one of the most electrifying science-fiction space operas of this generation and one of the very best films of the year. The only knock against it – and it is a reasonably-sized knock – is that this first film in the planned (but not yet green-lit) two-parter only encompasses half the total story, leaving viewers desperate for a conclusion that may or may not come to fruition.

A true auteur, Villeneuve has carved out a niche for creating grandiose and intelligent science-fiction films that regularly win over critics but tend to stumble at the box office. His last two films, Blade Runner 2049 and Arrival, garnered critical accolades and Academy Awards both but were met with relatively meager financial returns. With Dune, an intergalactic epic that commands every penny of its $165M budget, the risk of middling box office returns threatens the cinematic return to the world of Arrakis, where Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) and Chani (Zendaya) battle for spice, sustainability, and supremacy.

The tale of House Atreides’ unwelcome arrival on the desert planet of Arrakis, a story notoriously dense but painstakingly unpacked by the script from Villeneuve, Jon Spaights, and Eric Roth, stews in the nuances of Herbert’s themes while offering enough genuinely thrilling set-piece sequences to keep the more action-oriented entertainment-seekers in cahoots with those hoping for something deeper. From the wowing psychedelic visual tapestry to the lean-forward-in-your-seat action and the bevy of intriguing performances propelling the plot along, Villeneuve’s offering proves that all-too-rare coalescence of adult-oriented storytelling and pure cinematic extravagance. In short – it’s a dizzying wonder to behold.

Nearly ten thousand years in the future, this story begins when Duke Leto Atreides (Oscar Isaac), a formidable, honorable military man and ruler of the ocean planet Caladan, is sent by a shadowy emperor to take command of Arrakis. Arrakis is a wasteland but a wasteland of great importance, its natural production of “spice”, a substance used both as inter-dimensional space travel fuel and – for the locals – a hallucinogenic supplement, making it an essential holding. Warring house Harkonnen – led by the slimy (literally and metaphorically) Baron Vladimir (Stellan Skarsgård)- doesn’t take kindly to the imposition, setting off a feud set to undo one of the great houses.

In addition to the basic this-house-versus-that-house foundation, there’s space witchcraft, underground desert societies, giant sand-cryptids, and prophecies of a chosen one. Dune is widely regarded as the “best science fiction story of all time” by virtue of how foundational the story is: Herbert’s tale encompasses the wide world of grand myths and hero’s journeys. There’s a reason Jorodowsky’s ill-fated version of Dune (never to actually be filmed) went on to inspire the visual makeup of George Lucas’ Star Wars. This is prototypical sci-fi, fastened to a band of sturdy archetypes. The mythological stuff Carl Jung may himself have dreamt up. And Villeneuve has brought it to life with unyielding style and an impressive cast, fully committed to their stake.

Rebecca Ferguson impresses as the mysterious Lady Atreides, a psionic concubine and follower of the unsettling religious doctrine known as the “Bene Gesserit”; Josh Brolin steps in as the unlovable strategist Gurney; Jason Momoa shows off his natural charisma as fan favorite Duncan Idaho; Dave Bautista rages as Harkonnen underling and nephew of Vladimir known only as “Beast”; and Jaiver Bardem appears as a leader amongst the Arrakis locals, known as “Fremen”, Stilgar. Villeneuve allows his cast to sink into the weirdo grit of their roles, to revel in the strangeness of these characters and the world they inhabit.

Our hero Paul comes of age caught between two worlds – that of his father’s status and nobility and his mother’s mysticism – his future clouded by the compulsion of destiny. A child of Caladan damned to Arakkis, where perhaps an even greater fate awaits. The chosen one/white savior narrative may be a tired trope in 2021 – Avatar, The Last Samurai, Cloud Atlas, The Great Wall and The Help are just a few such examples – but this Dune hues close to the source material in that regard. This is, after all, the source from which those stories cribbed. Trusting Herbert’s vision and translating even the granular bits to the screen, Villeneuve makes fidelity matter, with very grain of sand in this infinite ocean of it proving important in some sense or another.

Whereas too many modern big-budget seem to pander to a blasé sense of blockbuster conformity, Dune champions eccentricity and adopts its own peculiar identity, making for that rare sumptuous blockbuster that doesn’t feel like it’s been dumbed down for grade-schoolers or whittled away to fit into a familiar aesthetic box. Instead, the spectacle arrives fully-formed and singular, complete with moments of grand-scale space battles that pulled me to the literal edge of my seat in a manner I haven’t felt in quite some time. Epic is the only suiting descriptor.

As is so common with a Villeneuve feature, the remarkable composition of the production elements never go unnoticed; the ambitious and arresting visual effects set atop Patrice Vermette’s jaw-dropping production design; Bob Morgan and Jacqueline West’s stark and utilitarian costumes; Hans Zimmer’s aboriginal-inspired score, his most memorable in some time; and Greig Fraser’s transportive, evocative cinematography, a flurry of shadowy whispers and sun-blasted promises that ties the whole thing together.

On Arrakis, sweat and tears are repurposed as drinking water so that inhabitants may survive its scorching heat. With Dune, you can almost taste the sweat and tears put into its making, the grand scale of this endeavor. Just as with the Fremen, those sweat and tears have been repurposed for our consumption, in the form of astounding cinematic mastery, dripping off the screen for audiences to hungrily lap up. Just please make another one.

CONCLUSION: Denis Villeneuve’s ‘Dune’ is a science fiction spectacle of epic proportions with an indomitable cast, state-of-the-art visual effects, and an undercurrent of adult-tilting thematics running throughout. A masterwork only complicated by its (temporarily) unfinished nature and one I can’t wait to see again.