As a long­time fan of all things Dune, there’s no liv­ing direc­tor I’d trust more to take over the “prop­er­ty” than Denis Vil­leneuve. But why remake Dune at all? Oh, I know, the orig­i­nal film—directed (in sev­er­al cuts) by “Alan Smithee,” also known as David Lynch—is a dis­as­ter, so they say. Even Lynch says it. (Maybe the nicest thing he’s ever said about the movie is, “I start­ed sell­ing out on Dune.”) Crit­ics hat­ed, and large­ly still hate, it; the film’s mar­ket­ing was a mess (Uni­ver­sal pro­mot­ed it like a fam­i­ly-friend­ly Star Wars clone); and the stu­dio felt it nec­es­sary to hand glos­saries to ear­ly audi­ences to define terms like Kwisatz Hader­ach, gom jab­ber, and sar­daukar.

But when I first saw David Lynch’s Dune, I did not know any of this. I hard­ly knew Lynch or his fil­mog­ra­phy and had yet to read Frank Herbert’s books. I was a young sci­ence fic­tion fan who saw in the movie exact­ly what Lynch said he intend­ed: “I saw tons and tons of pos­si­bil­i­ties for things I loved, and this was the struc­ture to do them in. There was so much room to cre­ate a world.” I did not know to be upset about his devi­a­tions from the books in the grotesque imag­in­ing of the Third Stage Guild Nav­i­ga­tor or the deci­sion to cov­er Baron Harkon­nen in bloody, ooz­ing pus­tules. The film’s impen­e­tra­bil­i­ty seemed like a fea­ture, not a bug. This was a world, total­ly alien and yet uncan­ni­ly famil­iar.

In hind­sight, I can see its many flaws, though not its total fail­ure, but I still find it mes­mer­iz­ing (and what a cast!). Vil­leneuve, I think, was in a very dif­fi­cult posi­tion in updat­ing such a divi­sive work of cin­e­ma. Should he appeal to fans of the books who hate Lynch’s film, or to fans of the clas­sic film who love its imagery, or to the kinds of the­ater­go­ers Uni­ver­sal Stu­dios feared would need a glos­sary to make it through the movie? Add to this the pres­sures of film­mak­ing dur­ing a pan­dem­ic, and you can imag­ine he might be feel­ing a lit­tle stressed.

But Vil­leneuve seems per­fect­ly relaxed in a recent inter­view above for the Shang­hai Inter­na­tion­al Film Fes­ti­val, and the trail­er for the new film has so far passed muster with every­one who’s seen it, gen­er­at­ing excite­ment among all of the above groups of poten­tial view­ers. As you can see in the video at the top, which match­es shots from the pre­view with the same scenes from the 1984 film, the new Dune both does its own thing and ref­er­ences Lynch’s dis­put­ed clas­sic in inter­est­ing ways.

No direc­tor should try to please every­one, but few adap­ta­tions come laden with more bag­gage than Dune. Maybe it’s a good idea to play it safe, anchor­ing the film to its trou­bled past while bring­ing it in line with the cur­rent size and scope of Hol­ly­wood block­busters? Not if you ask the direc­tor of the Dune that nev­er was. Ale­jan­dro Jodor­owsky intend­ed to bring audi­ences the most epic Dune of all time, and was relieved to find that Lynch’s adap­ta­tion was “a shit­ty pic­ture.” By con­trast, he pro­nounces the Vil­leneuve trail­er “very well done” but also com­pro­mised by its “indus­tri­al” need to appeal to a mass audi­ence. “The form is iden­ti­cal to what is done every­where,” he says, “The light­ing, the act­ing, every­thing is pre­dictable.”

Maybe this is inevitable with a sto­ry that film­go­ers already know. Maybe Villeneuve’s movie has sur­pris­es even Jodor­owsky won’t see com­ing. And maybe it’s impossible—and always has been—to make the Dune that the cult Chilean mas­ter want­ed (though break­ing it into two parts, as Vil­leneuve has done, is sure­ly a wise choice). Herbert’s vision was vast; every Dune is a compromise—“Nobody can do it. It’s a leg­end,” says Jodor­owsky. But every great direc­tor who tries leaves behind indeli­ble images that bur­row into the mind like shai-hulud.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Glos­sary Uni­ver­sal Stu­dios Gave Out to the First Audi­ences of David Lynch’s Dune (1984)

The Dune Col­or­ing & Activ­i­ty Books: When David Lynch’s 1984 Film Cre­at­ed Count­less Hours of Pecu­liar Fun for Kids

Moe­bius’ Sto­ry­boards & Con­cept Art for Jodorowsky’s Dune

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Although not the debut film of direc­tor Wes Ander­son, and cer­tain­ly not of star Bill Mur­ray, Rush­more intro­duced the world to the both of them. Ander­son­’s first fea­ture Bot­tle Rock­et (an expan­sion of the short film pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture) had­n’t found a par­tic­u­lar­ly large audi­ence upon its the­atri­cal release in 1996. But quite a few of the view­ers who had seen and appre­ci­at­ed it seemed to run in Mur­ray’s cir­cles, and in a 1999 Char­lie Rose inter­view the actor told of being sent copy after unwatched copy by friends and pro­fes­sion­al con­tacts alive.

But Mur­ray only need­ed to read a few pages of Ander­son­’s new script to under­stand that the young direc­tor knew what he was doing, and his abil­i­ties became even more evi­dent on set. “I said, ‘What’s this shot we got?’ He goes, ‘Oh, it’s one I saw in Bar­ry Lyn­don.’ ” But in Rush­more it depicts “the inter­mis­sion of the school play,” a full-fledged Kubrick­ian shot “com­ing past a lot of, you know, moth­ers and fathers going — jab­ber­ing, and all the way out past peo­ple buy­ing Cokes and drinks.” Yes, “the good ones copy, the great ones steal,” but to Mur­ray’s mind that say­ing “sort of sends a mis­di­rec­tion.”

Not to Ander­son, how­ev­er, whose rare com­bi­na­tion of cinephil­ia and direc­to­r­i­al skill have inspired him to make films both rich in cin­e­mat­ic homage and pos­sessed of their own dis­tinc­tive sen­si­bil­i­ty — a sen­si­bil­i­ty that let Mur­ray break out of the stan­dard goof­ball roles that had threat­ened to imprison him. In the video essay “Steal Like Wes Ander­son,” Thomas Fight exam­ines the now no-longer-young film­mak­er’s more recent repur­pos­ing of the work of auteurs who came before. In 2014’s The Grand Budapest Hotel, for exam­ple, Ander­son near­ly remakes an entire scene from Torn Cur­tain, Alfred Hitch­cock­’s Cold-War thriller with Paul New­man and Julie Andrews that also hap­pens to involve an east­ern Euro­pean hotel.

Ander­son does­n’t sim­ply lift Hitch­cock­’s shots but recom­pos­es them to “fit with­in his more plano­met­ric and sym­met­ri­cal style,” using the cin­e­mat­ic ref­er­ence “to add to the expe­ri­ence of the sto­ry” and play with audi­ence expec­ta­tions. If you’ve seen Torn Cur­tain, you know how New­man’s char­ac­ter shakes the man tail­ing him; if you’ve seen The Grand Budapest Hotel, you know it does­n’t work out quite so well for Jeff Gold­blum’s char­ac­ter. But only if you’ve seen both films can you appre­ci­ate Ander­son­’s sequence — and indeed, Hitch­cock­’s orig­i­nal — to the fullest. Even now, those of us excit­ed­ly antic­i­pat­ing the Octo­ber release of Ander­son­’s lat­est fea­ture The French Dis­patch are spec­u­lat­ing about not only which clas­sic films inspired it, but also which clas­sic films it will com­pel us to revis­it and enjoy afresh.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Glimpse Into How Wes Ander­son Cre­ative­ly Remixes/Recycles Scenes in His Dif­fer­ent Films

Wes Ander­son & Yasu­jiro Ozu: New Video Essay Reveals the Unex­pect­ed Par­al­lels Between Two Great Film­mak­ers

Wes Anderson’s Cin­e­mat­ic Debt to Stan­ley Kubrick Revealed in a Side-By-Side Com­par­i­son

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.