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A review by tobin_elliott
Dune: The Graphic Novel, Book 3: The Prophet by Kevin J. Anderson, Frank Herbert, Brian Herbert
0.25
As promised in my review for the second installment in this rather comatose adaptation, I did indeed buy the last volume hoping (vainly) that it might improve.
This is the worst of the lot. The art this time around didn't even try to swing for the fences. An attempt would have been appreciated. Instead, we get 190 pages of dull, static people standing around, stiffly jumping or supposedly fighting, and lots of close ups of mostly dull expressions. For a book with the main title "DUNE" we get very little imagery of the greater world, and what we do get is boring.
So, dull, uninteresting, workmanlike art that has no place in an epic story as grand and challenging as DUNE.
But worse than the art is the writing by the man that proves that, on occasion, the apple can fall exceptionally far from the tree, then just keep rolling farther and farther away. Frank Herbert was a very cerebral, very distinctive author and, for a kid who apparently grew up hearing his father read his stories, he absorbed nothing of his father's careful cadence or storytelling ability. I've called the art workmanlike. But the writing? I think the only word that works here is "inept".
Oh sure, he knows all the terms. He knows all the characters. But where Frank would have subtle, mysterious conversations that bent and twisted with subterfuge and hidden meaning, Brian's got Paul just bellowing, "I'm the Kwisatz Haderach!" for all and sundry, like he's freaking Kanye West. The dialogue is stunted and choppy and dull, the pacing terrible. He's wrung the book through an old dirty sock and filtered out all that was fun and awe-inspiring and wondrous about DUNE and instead just strung a series of words and sentences along to barely hint at one of the most incredible stories of the 20th century.
This is awful. I've tried and tried to read something with Brian Herbert's name attached to it, but with this last garbage money grab, I'm officially done. This was crap.
Go read the book. Leave these adaptations in the washroom where the paper will get better use.
This is the worst of the lot. The art this time around didn't even try to swing for the fences. An attempt would have been appreciated. Instead, we get 190 pages of dull, static people standing around, stiffly jumping or supposedly fighting, and lots of close ups of mostly dull expressions. For a book with the main title "DUNE" we get very little imagery of the greater world, and what we do get is boring.
So, dull, uninteresting, workmanlike art that has no place in an epic story as grand and challenging as DUNE.
But worse than the art is the writing by the man that proves that, on occasion, the apple can fall exceptionally far from the tree, then just keep rolling farther and farther away. Frank Herbert was a very cerebral, very distinctive author and, for a kid who apparently grew up hearing his father read his stories, he absorbed nothing of his father's careful cadence or storytelling ability. I've called the art workmanlike. But the writing? I think the only word that works here is "inept".
Oh sure, he knows all the terms. He knows all the characters. But where Frank would have subtle, mysterious conversations that bent and twisted with subterfuge and hidden meaning, Brian's got Paul just bellowing, "I'm the Kwisatz Haderach!" for all and sundry, like he's freaking Kanye West. The dialogue is stunted and choppy and dull, the pacing terrible. He's wrung the book through an old dirty sock and filtered out all that was fun and awe-inspiring and wondrous about DUNE and instead just strung a series of words and sentences along to barely hint at one of the most incredible stories of the 20th century.
This is awful. I've tried and tried to read something with Brian Herbert's name attached to it, but with this last garbage money grab, I'm officially done. This was crap.
Go read the book. Leave these adaptations in the washroom where the paper will get better use.