Dune

Back to the brilliant little cinema with its leather sofas and tables to watch this in the company of mates. Opinions were sharply divided; B said it was paceless and boring, R is still trying to process whether he liked it or not, G definitely did. Everyone agreed it looked and sounded glorious. It's possible that they were expecting the entirety of the story, as in the terrible 1980s version where Sting paraded around in metal underpants; a terrible time for us all.

The film's longueurs didn't surprise or irritate me; I have always respected Dune more than liked it. Here we had the perfect Paul Atreides, in fact a whole bunch of stellar performances. Arrakis took over in my head now and again. I could sink into it as if I was on the sand; as if I was floating in and out of spice induced visions; all cool!

I got what Villeneuve wanted me to see, but beyond hype and light and sound there may be less to it than meets the eye. Not sure that matters though.

We came back, we got drunk, another week of ruined diet!