Coming off the unsightly splendour of The Elephant Man, weirdy genius David Lynch took a shot at a blockbuster epic, attempting to film Frank Herbert's sprawling, quasi-religious doorstopper of a sci-fi novel. Lynch wanted three hours. The producers wanted two.
The moneymen won. What's left is a neutered space pantomime, the eye-snagging visuals weighed down by shoddy ham-dram acting, hanging plot stands (a messiah who talks to giant worms!?) and Sting in an orange frightwig. Don't worry, girls - - he's married.
DVD Extras:
A valiant effort was made to find anyone outside the production who truly enjoyed the finished film. The total? Two. And even Lynch is absent from the line-up. There is, however, an anecdote-laden Making Of that dishes the truth about the shoot's manifold problems, and the director turns up in a made-at-the-time, blink-and-you'll-miss-it puff-piece. Finally, there's an interview with Herbert, the venerable scribbler praising the movie. Unconvincingly.
