Everyone’s favourite royal family is back, as Paul (not the bakery) fights to restore Dune (not the shoe shop) to its former glory as king of the high street.

This senses-assaulting sequel maintains the panoramic scope and Visual spectacle of Denis Villeneuve’s post-pandemic epic, but the shine has worn slightly from the sand-covered surfaces. It is slightly longer than Part One, whose length felt boldly justified in establishing the careening political dynamics of this unwieldy worm-ridden world. Part Two on the other hand has more plot to advance, and fails to sustain interest once the initial awe of being back on Arrakis has evaporated.

The film lacks an emotional anchor or consistent characters, despite universally strong performances. Paul (Timothée Chalamet) is a tough protagonist to root for at the best of times and only becomes more difficult over the course of the movie, as his messianic prophecy steamrolls the more intimate drama. Paul’s finest moments come at the start, when his efforts to befriend the Fremen require him to appear more down-to-earth. There is humour in these scenes missing from the latter half, elevated by more likeable turns from Zendaya and Javier Bardem.

But the storytelling is overtaken by brutish power struggles between equally despotic galactic dynasties, and it becomes impossible to care about the outcome of its conflicts. While wise to avoid the good-vs-bad simplicity of Star Wars, Dune overcorrects by making them all as bad as each other. The pacing and character motivations start to strain, and only one monochrome gladiator sequence shakes up the desert-dominated visual palette of this increasingly sluggish space opera.