Written and directed by David Lynch.
I’m not sure the fabled four-hour cut of this would have made it that much better. In addition to a creepy kid and a line about milking a hairless cat with a mouse taped to its torso, Lynch concocts great visuals and wicked bad guys, but the good guys are all so vanilla. Delightfully homoerotic — a bunch of men riding giant worms and a slicked-up Sting with a rubber palm leaf — but there’s no joy — no coffee, no pie — and the only tension is what you sense off camera: six months of Mexican heat and a heap of dead dogs.
“Without change something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken.” — Duke Leto Atreides