Frank Herbert’s Chani
It is probably controversial to tell any fan that changes need to be made to beloved source material, but in the case of Chani, there’s plenty of room for improvement. She can be more than simply Paul Muad’Dib’s beloved.
In the book, Paul and Chani’s first encounter is more or less what we see in the movie, with her revealing that she was watching him point a gun on other members of her Fremen Sietch, and that she was ready to kill him if need be. But on the page, that initial skepticism toward the one who supposedly will become the Lisan al-ghaib (“Voice from the Outer-World”) is almost immediately disarmed. After Paul and Jessica reach the hidden Sietch ruled over by Stilgar (Javier Bardem in the movie), Chani quickly learns that her last surviving parent, Dr. Liet Kynes (Sharon Duncan-Brewster), has been murdered by the fearsome Sardaukar. She mourns the death. Chani is then one simple acid trip away, fueled by pure, undiluted spice melange, from being mind-melded with Paul. Both fall passionately in love.
From that point on, Chani becomes a predominantly passive character, following Fremen customs that require her to stay hidden with the other women and children in a more remote Sietch while Paul is off having messianic adventures and riding a Sandworm. It’s frankly a bit underwhelming and leaves the reader wanting more from the character. Luckily onscreen, that improvement appears to have already begun…
Chani Is Our Eyes into the Fremen World
If Paul Atreides is the Voice from the Outer-World, then Chani is being positioned by Villeneuve to be the eyes into the inner-one. That was clear from the revised prologue and introduction at the top of the film. In the original text—as well as David Lynch’s 1984 film—the first character we meet is technically Princess Irulan, a young woman who now won’t appear in the new movies until Dune: Part Two. Irulan is the daughter of the Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV, and a trained Bene Gesserit herself; she is regal and a proud patrician who provides a seemingly authoritative perspective on the events of the story, which she recounts the official history of.
This framing device is fascinating in the book since it’s used at the top of nearly every chapter and ultimately foreshadows events before they occur, as if they are the predestined results of great men doing great things—which by design creates cognitive dissonance for the reader as they come across increasingly more ambiguous moral conundrums as Paul’s journey continues.
However, in Villeneuve’s film, the audience is immediately thrown into the larger political and ethical dilemmas during the first scene when we enter Arrakis not from the gaze of a distant ruler, but rather through the eyes of one of its many oppressed inhabitants. Zendaya’s Chani tells us first about the beauty of Arrakis—something no one among House Atreides’ courtiers seems to notice—and waxes poetic about the glow of spice floating in the twilight. She then immediately views the menace of the villainous Harknonnens not from the perspective of another great house or rival, but from the ground and looking up. When the Harkonnen spice harvesters arrive, they resemble enormous boots being pressed against the Fremen’s neck.
ncG1vNJzZmhqZGy7psPSmqmorZ6Zwamx1qippZxemLyue8yoraKdXa%2B8r7GOnaynnV2lrrPAjK2uqGWjnby2uMNmnLGokaOxbsDHnmSrp5yaerCyjLOcp5yRrq60ecKhmKehXw%3D%3D