What if I told you there were videogames. Maybe you even tried some of the SyFy miniseries (they’re rough, I know, but you’ll take what you can get at this point-you need your fix like the Imperium’s melange addicts need their extremely on-the-nose metaphor for fossil fuels, and young James McAvoy is a delight). You came home and burned through David Lynch’s (fuck him and fuck NFTs) substantially weirder version. You snuck away to an IMAX in the middle of a pandemic and gorged yourself on the latest adaptation.
It’s the kind of shit that inspires concept artists and writers to go balls to the wall with their most monumentalist impulses. It’s the desert adventure of Lawrence of Arabia, with the maximalist fantasy world-building of The Lord of the Rings, but it’s also extremely 1960s sci-fi bullshit. It seems like a white savior colonial fantasy, but then it goes all tits up.
