DUNE: PROPHECY – Season 1 Summary: Not Enough Spice in This Sauce
It turns out that even such a compelling story can be squandered through an overly predictable construction of the final intrigue. Six episodes in, and they have left a significant sense of dissatisfaction. When platform MAX released the first two episodes, the story unfolded with a dynamic pace reminiscent of Game of Thrones. Initially, Dune: Prophecy leaned more into the fantasy realm than science fiction, but by the third episode, it took a surprising—and unfortunately somewhat clumsy—pivot towards sci-fi. In a world devoid of machines and computers, the sudden appearance of a few blue lights and semi-transparent DNA helices felt like the creators were distracting the viewer with shiny trinkets rather than focusing on narrative depth and character reactions.
Thus, Dune: Prophecy remains a lightweight entry in the sci-fi world, failing to deliver a strong conclusion, although it remains a series of above-average quality. I hope it redeems itself in the next season.
Thanks to the discourse surrounding the series, film reviewers have gained a rather apt term—“lightweight” (miękiszon in Polish)—to describe it. Some might label Dune: Prophecy more grandiosely, as some film critics like to do, calling it “very soft science fiction” or alternatively “hard fantasy.” However, I stress this is not a criticism but a clear classification, which became even more apparent to me after the conclusion of the first season. I also have no doubt that Dune: Prophecy is a series about women’s desire for power and its interpretation, which turns out to be, unfortunately, typically masculine.
So, if anyone expected a feminist treatise just because the two lead roles were given to Emily Watson and Olivia Williams, they will be sorely disappointed. Their desire for power and control is purely masculine—or rather, such desires lack the face of any particular gender. The specific motivations for actions may differ between men and women, but the nature of emotions and the essence of concepts like power and control are not gendered—they are simply human. Under this aspect, Dune: Prophecy is neither groundbreaking on a sociological level nor innovative in the realms of fantasy or science fiction. This could summarize the ideological scope of the first season: a moderately weighty tale about the conspiracies of two women, marked by painful pasts, who have replaced their rejected family lives with the security of an order that offered them not only a home but absolute influence over the Empire. Who wouldn’t seize such an opportunity?
In summary, the psychological and scientific intrigue after six episodes turned out to be simpler than I had assumed, and scientifically downright crude. The series has no chance of competing with the full-length Dune, even though it initially swung ambitiously for a titanic fantasy epic after the premiere of its first two episodes. However, the subsequent episode not only broke the suspense but also disrupted the main plotline. It transported viewers to the youth of Valya Harkonnen and Tula Harkonnen for nearly an entire episode. I’m not saying this backstory wasn’t important—it provided a broader picture of who Valya was, in particular—but it killed the narrative rhythm, and the subplot involving Desmont Hart weakened so much that, until the finale, it couldn’t escape the shadow of the rather cliché dark antiheroine that Valya became. It’s hard to wish her well, obviously, and the same goes for Hart. The rebels might be their counterbalance, but after six episodes, they are still dramatically underdeveloped.
Moreover, the concept of a replicating virus controllable by sheer willpower feels unscientific, magical, and generally unconvincing, causing Desmont Hart to lose his charisma. After all, charisma can’t be drawn solely from metaphors about spice or encounters with sandworms. Speaking of which, there aren’t many sandworms in the series, and the atmosphere of Arrakis would have greatly enriched the world-building. Short flashbacks of Desmont’s memories or even the sequence of arriving on Dune fail to meet the expectations ignited among fans of Herbert’s prose by Villeneuve’s full-length productions. Perhaps this will change in the second season. Given the finale and the radical shifts in the Empire’s power structure, it’s certainly possible.
Does the end of the first season’s story hold a jaw-dropping twist? Not really, though the ending is exceptionally open. Little is resolved, and a new plotline is introduced—one so significant that viewers’ attention should have been drawn to it earlier in the season. I’ll remind you that this season consists of six episodes, not the usual eight, so there was room to clarify things at least to some extent. Perhaps, however, the material on the Bene Gesserit’s history isn’t extensive enough to delve deeply into its origins in the first season? I pose this question provocatively, so you can answer it yourselves, perhaps familiar with the works of the Herbert family.
In Dune: Prophecy, its titular prophecy remains only sketched out for now, while the aesthetics, from the first to the last episode, are undeniably stunning.