Denis Villeneuve’s great gamble has paid off. Such is now, surely, irrefutable. Frank Herbert’s once seemingly insurmountable literary tome finally has a cinematic counterpart worthy of the name. Dune. If there seemed little appetite for a one sci-fi epic back in 2021, Villeneuve’s conviction that Herbert’s vision warranted two was risky. Certainly, there was no guarantee in a pandemic weakened box office that Part Two would ever see the light of day. Villeneuve’s long anticipated – in certain quarters – Blade Runner sequel had, after all, failed to match critical for commercial acclaim. And yet, here we are. Where Villeneuve’s first Dune was bold, noble and a little ponderous in its world building, his second is nothing short of mesmeric. Villeneuve has made peace with the Shai-Hulud and this is just the beginning.

There’s definitely something to be said about entering a film like Dune: Part Two blind. Even so, it seems hard to imagine even the highest of expectations going unmet in this case. Part Two does have it all. Aching romance perfectly balances scene after scene of pulsating action. The heart races, breaks, soars and sings in line with a narrative gifted the sort of breathing space most blockbusters, and high budget directors, would kill for. What’s more, as penned by Villeneuve himself, alongside Passengers’ – yikes – Jon Spaihts, the film enjoys a density of both plot and thought provocation. It is an epic of such scale and might as cinema has not seen since the lofty days of David Lean and Charles Heston.

Once again, razor sharp casting does only to heighten the reality of the onscreen world. Make no mistake about it, Dune boasts a who’s who of tomorrow’s biggest and brightest stars. Such proved a savvy move in the online age when it came to reeling in a four quadrant audience last time around. Timothée Chalamet and Zendaya are as much as icons as fiercely talented young actors. Chalamet plays Paul Atreides, exiled son of the late Duke Leto (Oscar Isaac). Zendaya is Chani, the Fremen warrior he fell for in visions over the course of Part One. Now they are united, increasingly so, on the desert planes of Arrakis. House Harkonnen have taken the ducal seat, led by Stellan Skarsgård’s ghastly Baron Vladimir, but this is a world of prophecies and messiahs. All are subject to fate and the will of the mystic Bene Gesserit sisterhood.

Christopher Walken joins Part Two as Shaddam IV, Padishah Emperor of the Known Universe, with Florence Pugh entering too as his daughter, Princess Irulan, a key figure in the books. Though neither feature heavily, it’s pitch perfect casting. Certainly, it is hard to imagine a more imperious Irulan than she played by Pugh. Best of the newcomers, however, is Austin Butler – that’s Elvis to us lesser mortals. Sting played Feyd-Rautha in David Lynch’s disowned eighties take on Dune but wasn’t half the vampiric deuteragonist Butler delivers. Psychotic, a sadist and sociopath, the younger Harkonnen nephew is nothing short of terrifying in Butler’s hands. His gladiatorial entrance, shot in startling infrared, is among the film’s most visually impressive sequences.

That’s no mean feat. Part Two is almost entirely visual spectacle and boasts a veritable feast of memorable set pieces. Paul’s first ride on a sandworm, every minute a thrill, is perhaps the best of the bunch but I’ve a fondness too for the all too brief scene in which Chani teaches him how to sand walk like a true Fremen. As the action migrates south, and into even more hostile environs, themes of zealotry expand into the recesses of an astoundingly effective final act. Religion was always a core impetus of Herbert’s original text but gains curious relevance here in the face of a contemporary world tearing itself apart. From a script several years old now, it’s almost prophetic.

A thunderous score by Hans Zimmer assimilates the very heartbeat of Arrakis with the transcendence of a higher calling. Extraordinary cinematography is, at this stage, a given. All told, the sum total is a feature demanding of an all encompassing big screen experiences. Future generations, gifted only the Netflix experience, simply won’t get the full power of Villeneuve’s achievement.