Denis Villeneuve worked hard to insert in the second part of Dune a joke that would only make Quebecers (and a few French) laugh. He wanted one of the important secondary characters, played by Josh Brolin, to pronounce the word “tabarnak”. There are several takes of Brolin uttering the tasty swear word, but none had the authenticity the filmmaker wanted. Blasphemy was abandoned. We long to see them. He should send them to Infoman.
If I may offer a recommendation, it would have been easier to get a Fremen warrior to pronounce the term — they speak their own language, with Arabic overtones. For the third part of Dune, the realization of which is now assured, I would see one of these warriors, when shouting “Attack!” » throw, saber drawn, an enthusiastic “tabarnak”. (Note to filmmaker: I’m volunteering to play the extra who will have this one line of text. In the meantime, I’m practicing in my basement.)
The T-word isn’t the only profanity that Villeneuve inserted into his adaptation. At the end of the film, the mother superior of the Bene Gesserit religious order cries “abomination” because she is ordered to keep quiet. It is my opinion that the remarks are intended for Villeneuve, who voluntarily and skillfully modified one of the central themes of Frank Herbert’s book, Dune, to replace it, let’s be clear, with a secular plea. (I’m not complaining. I note and welcome the audacity.)
It’s all about a religious prophecy. In the desert planet Arrakis, subject to cruel extractive colonization, the natives, called Fremen, will one day be liberated thanks to the arrival of a foreign savior, the Mahdi. The Fremen firmly believe that this prophecy has haunted them throughout time. But it is a deception, an invention inserted into their culture by the female religious order with the aim of using it, when the time comes, to serve its own purpose of political control.
Villeneuve recalls in an interview that Frank Herbert’s work is “a warning against messianic figures, people who claim to have a truth or who marry politics with the absolute.” But where Herbert only shares this secret with us, his readers, Villeneuve spreads the (real) good news among the protagonists. Nowhere in the book do we find unbelievers among the Fremen. Someone who questions religion. Villeneuve invents two divides: one between the young, religio-skeptics, and the old, believers; another between the northerners, secularists, and the southerners, fundamentalists. One would think the Quebecer of Bill 21 would harshly judge the obscurantism of the Americans of the Bible Belt.
I’m not saying anything here that he doesn’t admit to himself. At Patrick Masbourian’s microphone, the day after the Montreal premiere, the filmmaker explained why he had clarified things in this way: “One of the main ideas of the Quiet Revolution in Quebec was to dissociate this secular society, which moved away from yoke of the Church. […] Quebec has been an extraordinary laboratory for this, and I think that’s where I could say that my adaptation has a Quebecois sensibility. »
The anti-Catholic irreverence of the Cynics of his youth emerges in a scene – unimaginable in the book – where Villeneuve mocks religious circular discourse. As is the archetype of the hero who initially refuses to assume the role imposed by destiny, the central character of Paul (Timothée Chalamet) denies being the Mahdi. “See, he denies it, exactly as expected. This is proof that it’s him! » exclaims a devout leader (Javier Bardem). At this point in the film, in the cinema, laughter bursts out. Villeneuve managed to ridicule believers.
Another change introduced by Villeneuve feeds into ambient feminism in Quebec. The books focus heavily on female religious and political power. But in this power, hierarchy and discipline reign. Villeneuve liberates two major female characters. Paul’s mother, Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), asserts her independence from the religious order of which she is a part. It’s not in the early books, and it’s a highlight.
Above all, the main female character, Chani (Zendaya), is in the books Paul’s faithful companion, his accomplice and advisor. In Dune, part two, Villeneuve transforms her into a feminist, anti-monarchist and secular rebel. Paul is an aristocrat; Chani pleads before him the merits of equality of people and sexes. It is only when Paul, converted to egalitarianism, tells him that he wishes to be not his duke, but his equal, that he is entitled to the first kiss. Then, when everyone kneels in front of Paul who pretends to believe that he is the messiah, Chani, alone, remains standing, defiant, then leaves the stage and the film riding a giant sandworm (I won’t explain to you ).
This break between the two main figures of the film is a major departure from the original work. We wonder how Villeneuve will be able to reunite the two lovers in the third opus, because Herbert is categorical: they must procreate.
Let’s summarize. The son of a notary from Gentilly, trained at the Saint-Joseph Seminary in Trois-Rivières, became one of the most talented and adored filmmakers in the world. He took the opportunity to infuse a flagship work of Western culture with secular, anti-monarchist and feminist convictions forged in his native Quebec, this “extraordinary laboratory”. If that doesn’t make you proud to be Quebecois, I can’t do anything for you.