John Tucker Must Die

Its almost funny how wrong things can go sometimes.

In 1975, the great experimental film-maker Alejandro Jorodowsky began pre-production on a film version of Frank Herbert’s Dune. Jorodowsky’s Dune was to be a 14-hour epic, starring Salvador Dali as the universe’s mad emperor, ruling from a toilet shaped throne on a solid gold planet. Duke Leto Atreides was a matador who had been castrated during ritual combat with a bull. Paul was to have been conceived miraculously, as the Duke’s blood inseminated his concubine. The Spice became a living blue sponge. H.R. Giger and Moebius were in charge of set and costume design. Pink Floyd was to compose a full original soundtrack. In the end of course, it was never made. There was never even a script. The producers found out Jorodowsky had spent almost two million dollars without shooting even a single frame of film. They pulled the plug.

The film rights bounced around for a couple years, until they eventually ended up with Dino De Laurentis. He in turn entrusted it to a young man who had released two films at that point. One was a nightmarish labor of love and the other a period drama which cemented him as a Hollywood director.

So David Lynch directed Dune.

And it was bad.

Like, really, really bad.

But it gets worse.

David Lynch gave up directing Return of the Jedi to direct Dune.

Sometimes, I like to pretend that I live in a world where Alejandro Jorodowsky’s Dune and David Lynch’s Return of the Jedi exist. It is not necessarily a world that makes much sense. It is a world that many would find strange and frightening. But it has to be a better world than one where this movie exists.

Thanks for listening.

Have a good night.