The Baron!

The Baron. Look at him.

The image above is grotesque and beautiful. A haunting vision of debauchery and gluttony. I joke that I plan on letting myself go as I age, but the depiction of Baron Harkonnen in this latest attempt to film Dune might be a bridge too far.

Stellen Skarsgard is a gorgeous monster in the role. He emerges into the cinematic universe from a black pit of sludge. Floats through corridors leaving a trail of sleaze across the screen. It’s like Danny DeVito from It’s Always Sunny without any of the redeeming characteristics. I imagine Denis Villeneuve, the director of these recent Dune movies standing behind the camera.

“That’s right, Stellen,” Denis likely purred, “let the black sludge ooze down your face. Let it drip, Stelly, let it drip.”

I presume the rest of the cast and production team were retching off-camera. At least I hope they were.

***

I rarely watch movies these days and I hardly ever go to a theater. Yes, we’ve taken our kids to the movies a few times. The new Super Mario Bros. movie. Elemental. Still, it had been many moons since my wife Katie and I went to see a movie without our wonderful children.

The first installment of this latest attempt at Dune was on Netflix a few months ago. It drew me in. I’m a sucker for the Dune universe. Giant worms, addictive spice, and jihad? Now you’re talking my language. Presumably, Netflix streamed Dune to stir up interest for the sequel. It worked for me. Family friend Natalie was visiting a few weekends ago and so finding a babysitter was no problem. Katie and I went to the movies.

FilmScene at The Chauncey is an artsy little place downtown. A self-described landmark for Iowa City cinephiles. Katie and I arrived for a screening of Dune on a Saturday morning. The movie is like seventeen hours long, so we chose an early showing. The boys were safe with babysitter Natalie and we were free to spend the day on Arrakis.

What a big movie. What a loud movie. I can’t say whether the film is any good, though I certainly enjoyed it. I’m biased. I worshipped the Dune books in middle school. My friend Nick and I tore through them. Nick’s dad had a brilliant collection of Science Fiction on his shelf. Nick was happy to loan those books to me. The first six books remain, for me, some of my favorite science fiction. Sadly, Frank Herbert died and his son took over. Brian Herbert cranked out an endless list of trashy sequels that read like terrible fan fiction. Still, I read every book. Like I said, I’m a sucker for the Dune universe.

“What did you think?” I asked Katie when we left the film.

“It was long.”

I could tell she was hungry. Katie can get hangry when she’s hungry.

A few days later, I was texting my friend Ben and the movie came up.

“I needed more Baron,” Ben wrote, because Ben is a sicko. I’m kind of a sicko too, so I agreed.

The gluttonous, lecherous, and debaucherous Baron in these recent adaptations of the books was just so wonderfully grotesque.

***

I imagine, as 43 is soon to become 44, that the Baron provides one model of late adulthood. A complete rejection of social graces. A black shawl to cover my corpulent body. A menacing, shaved head. A low growl that signals to the listener I might eat them. This would certainly be a shift to the way that I live out my role as a professor.

“Students,” I’d ooze black sludge from my forehead, “have a seat.”

I mean, there’s no way to hold onto the prettiness of youth. Baron doesn’t even try! And if you have anything to say about his decadent lifestyle? It’s not pretty to cross the Baron. Not pretty to cross Professor Tanner, either.

“To the pits of Geidi Prime with you!” I’d howl at my enemies as I gnawed on an animal carcass.

No, I don’t suspect I’ll being emulating the Baron anytime soon. But movies are there for us to fantasize with. So this blog will be a short fantasy of utter depravity run amok.

Let it drip, Baron. Let it drip.