Denis Villeneuve’s Dune is a self-fulfilling prophecy that undoes itself in the telling, an ouroboros regurgitating its own tail rather than eating it.
Had the lives of George Lucas and David Lynch gone differently, we would be awash in a stranger, more inexplicable type of American movie.
David Lynch's Dune, terrible and repetitive as it is, is my own spice. It’s made me aware of myself in a way I never could have dreamed.
