“Once men turned their thinking over to machines in the hope that this would set them free. But that only permitted other men with machines to enslave them.” –Frank Herbert, DUNE
The new Dune film is amazing, far better than anything that fans of the book had any right to expect. I loved it. I started rereading the book as soon as I got home; I read the above quote and had to put the book down for a moment. Frank Herbert wrote that in 1965–probably quite a bit earlier, as ’65 is the publication date. What a visionary.
The film changed a few things, but that’s to be expected in a work of this size and scope; it would be impossible to adhere to everything Herbert wrote. At some point I may write up some further thoughts. But suffice to say it was great and left me speechless. Once I finish the first book, I’ll probably continue with the others, too. I loved the first three books in the cycle and enjoyed the next three as well, though I felt they weren’t at the same level of quality as the first two or three.
A good friend of mine also recommended the many sequels written by Brian Herbert and Kevin Anderson, so I may go down that Golden Path, as well.
I’m really in awe of Denis Villenueve and the whole cast of this movie, particularly Javier Bardem, who I felt carried much of the film as Stilgar. We’re lucky that a director as good as Villenueve was able to make this. In my opinion, this achievement is as great as Peter Jackson and Lord of the Rings, and will be remembered for a long time.
One of the fun things about being a parent is showing your children things you enjoyed as a child. We read lots of different books and comics and watch movies together; most of the movies and TV my children watch is contemporary, but a good chunk of it consists of gems I enjoyed growing up. They mostly choose their own books but we read some of the cream of the crop together, as well.
Last night, we watched the 1981 classic, Time Bandits, Terry Gilliam’s family adventure film. I hadn’t seen this in decades, and wow, I was surprised how well it holds up. What a wonderful film. I recall watching the movie as a child, and the memories I have of it include John Cleese hilariously playing Robin Hood, Michael Palin as a lovelorn wimp, some great adventure scenes, witty, sharp dialogue, and a whole lot of fun. It’s a wonderful story of time traveling thieves, equipped with a magical map stolen from the Supreme Being. But seeing it as an adult made me view it differently–though all these wonderful comic elements are there, it’s a tale of a lonely child, the kind who is often seen in Roald Dahl novels.
The hero of this story is a young boy named Kevin, who is sympathetic from the opening scenes of the film. His parents are more interested in watching television and buying new gadgets than they are in their poor, lonely son, who escapes to his room to read and play with toy soldiers, only to be screamed at by his dad for making too much noise.
What dad doesn’t know is that the racket up in Kevin’s room was made by a knight on horseback who crashes through a wall, leaping over Kevin. But Kevin wonders if it were a dream, since the room quickly goes back to normal.
But Kevin does escape his mundane world when the Time Bandits break through the next night. By turns hilarious, greedy, selfish, and kind, Kevin’s diminutive companions are completely inept at what they do. They’re using the map to travel through space and time, only to steal valuables from guys like Napoleon and Agamemnon. Each time they make a leap through time, they fall from the sky and crash in a heap atop one another, sometimes smashing into innocent bystanders. It’s a hilarious and painful entrance every time. Yet all they do with this incredible ability to time travel is petty thieving. At one point, Kevin, having been taken from Agamemnon’s court, where he was to be the king’s heir, is despondent at this state of affairs, telling the leader of the Bandits, Randall, that the bandits have this amazing artifact, with which they can do anything, yet they choose to just go around stealing things. Kevin says, wistfully, of Agamemnon, “Money wasn’t important to him,” to which Randall replies, “He didn’t have anything to spend it on, did he?”
It’s a telling moment in the film; the young boy has perceived that even his new swashbuckling friends are barely better than his parents. They have the key to the universe, and what they want to use it for is to become rich.
Kevin does influence his group of pals, so that at the end they rescue him from Evil, who wants the map for himself. They risk themselves to save him, and it’s heartwarming to see Kevin’s kindness rub off on them.
But then God shows up, and everyone must leave, once Evil is destroyed. Kevin is in despair at this. He points out that God let dozens of people die, just to prove a point with his map and the Time Bandits. “Why does there have to be evil?” Kevin asks. “I think it’s something to do with free will,” the Supreme Being replies.
And Kevin is sent home. He awakens to his house burning down, and is saved by a fireman. His parents could not care less about his brush with death, and bicker on the lawn about their lost toaster, ignoring their son totally. They touch pieces of evil that Kevin has returned with, and immediately explode. Agamemnon, now a fireman, smiles at Kevin as he drives away in the fire truck. The movie ends with Kevin alone.
My son was on the verge of tears at this. I thought maybe he was upset at the dead parents, but that didn’t make sense, since Kevin’s parents were cruel and mean and shallow. No, my son explained that Kevin had had so much fun with his bandit pals, and now they were gone and the boy was alone.
Not exactly a comforting ending, but I guess Terry Gilliam’s movies are not there to comfort you.
This film is told with such good humor and wit and rapid fire jokes that it’s hard to take this too seriously as an adult, but my son was right. Maybe the best adults can do is save you and protect you, then wink and nod and send you on your way. The best strangers you meet will do that. And a lot of them, including God, are worth very little unless a kind-hearted child tells them they ought to behave.
Christopher Tuthill 