Bagpipes in the Imperium
Anyone with even superficial knowledge of the Dune universe—through its novels, films, television adaptations, or video games—may have sensed something curious in Denis Villeneuve’s 2021 film adaptation. That feeling can be distilled into a single question: What’s up with those bagpipes? More than a stylistic flourish, the use of bagpipes signals a deeper cinematic strategy. Villeneuve employs cultural markers—Celtic, Greek, and Asian—to position House Atreides as a morally resonant force of diversity and resistance, in stark contrast to the homogenized imperial powers they oppose.
This article examines the incorporation of specific ethnic elements—such as bagpipes—in the most recent film adaptations of Frank Herbert’s Dune. It argues that Villeneuve uses visual and cultural markers—including burial practices, language, martial arts, and costume design—as ethnic signifiers that cue viewers toward allegiance. These elements frame House Atreides as morally sympathetic while casting Houses Harkonnen and Corrino as antagonistic. The analysis draws on key scholarship in the fields of cultural studies and ethnic identity to contextualize Villeneuve’s cinematic strategies.
Race and Ethnicity in Science Fiction
The Dune universe is no exception to the challenges that arise from cultural representation in science fiction. Consider, first, the issue of race. It is common in the genre to depict galactic populations divided along racial lines. Yet, as Spanish archaeologist Víctor Fernández Martínez explains in his postcolonial analysis, race is not a scientifically valid concept; what exists is a continuum of morphological traits that vary and overlap in countless ways. [1] The fact that racism remains a contentious and unstable social construct in our own world makes its projection into interplanetary futures even more problematic. This is one of the genre’s enduring flaws. Another is the tendency to imagine entire planets as mono-climatic environments populated by a single, culturally distinct group—an issue especially evident in Dune.
Houses as Ethnic Constructs
One of the distinctive features of Herbert’s fictional universe is that it is populated exclusively by humans. In the absence of alien species, human variability must be conveyed through other means—and in Dune, ethnicity becomes the primary vehicle for differentiation. As linguist Moha Ennaji defines it, an ethnic group is “a group of people who share the same language, culture, history, religion, and values. Each ethnic group adopts a certain language and lifestyle to distinguish itself from other ethnic groups”. [2] The Dune universe is organized around a network of great houses—the aristocracy of a distant future empire—each of which exhibits its own cultural identity.
While this ethnic coding is implicit in Herbert’s novel, it becomes visually explicit in film adaptations, particularly in David Lynch’s 1984 version and Villeneuve’s more recent films. For example, House Harkonnen is marked by distinct aesthetic traits: in Lynch’s film, its members are ginger-haired; in Villeneuve’s adaptation, they are entirely hairless, including facial and body hair. This complete absence of hair functions as a visual shorthand for cultural and ethnic uniformity. It is as if each feudal house in the Imperium could engineer its own ethnicity—indeed, the films present each great house as a coherent ethnic group, visually and behaviorally distinct from the others.
From the Franks to Caladan
Is it just an aesthetic option by the director? Or are we dealing with something deeper here? Ethnicity, being a broader and more flexible category than race, allows storytellers to quickly divide characters into opposing groups—heroes and villains. The same logic has long operated in nationalist histories. In nineteenth-century France, for example, historians seeking to legitimize the modern nation-state traced its origins not to the ancient Gauls, but to the Franks—positioning Charlemagne, not Vercingetorix, as the symbolic patriarch. After Napoleon’s campaign in Italy in 1796, however, the Gauls were symbolically reintroduced into the national narrative, particularly through their sack of Rome in the fourth century BC (196–201). [3] This strategic use of historical contrast—Gauls vs. Franks, Britons vs. Saxons, Iberians vs. Visigoths—omits the role of Rome as a homogenizing, imperial force. In the construction of a nation, external power is perceived as negative not just because it is foreign, but especially because it imposes homogenization on the core culture. In other words, diversity or ethnic fluidity is more politically healthy than the authoritarianism product of an immobile cultural regime.
Similarly, in Dune: Part One and Part Two, we observe a stark dichotomy: the culturally diverse Atreides are framed as the protagonists, while the more homogenous Harkonnen and Corrino are cast as antagonists. Viewers instinctively side with the Atreides and perceive the Harkonnen and Corrino as their mortal enemies. This effect stems from the mechanism previously discussed: House Atreides appears morally aligned with “the right side” due to its ethnic diversity and its incorporation of recognizable Celtic, Hellenistic, and Asian cultural elements. Such pluralism is notably absent in the depiction of the Harkonnen.
Let us focus for a moment on the Celtic element. Far from being a mere aesthetic choice, it functions as a political signifier. The Celtic motif bolsters not only postcolonial narratives within European contexts, such as Ireland, but also reflects broader movements of cultural reassertion. [4] As Colin Williams notes in the Handbook of Language and Ethnic Identity, “Celtic cases do constitute an important illustration of the effects of the ethnic revival of Western Europe, which involves the reassertion of the rights and obligations of long-submerged identities in an increasingly uniform world order”. [5] In this light, Celticism may be understood as a distinctly European articulation of decolonization.
Anti-imperialist national narratives often cast ancient Rome as a negative force, positioning freedom fighters as symbols of resistance in each nation’s historical narrative: Arminius for Germany, Vercingetorix for France, and Queen Boudica for Britain—whose portrait notably hangs in the British Parliament. Cultural productions that evoke Roman history typically contrast a repressive empire with the virtuous ancestors of modern audiences. After 1945, this imagery became especially potent, as the Roman Empire was easily associated with contemporary powers aspiring to global domination. In films such as Spartacus, Ben Hur, and Quo Vadis—in which Nero famously performs a Hitler salute—the Romans are portrayed as slaveholders, colonizers, and totalitarians. Their marching legions could be read as fascist armies, and during the Cold War, American viewers tended to identify with the oppressed victims of Rome, particularly when decadent Roman villains were played by British actors and heroic Christians by American ones. [6] Similarly, in Villeneuve’s Dune, House Atreides is framed as the freedom-fighting protagonist faction, besieged by the brutal, imperialist forces of Houses Corrino and Harkonnen.
Weaponry, Clothing, and Language
The Celtic dimension is Villeneuve’s most striking innovation in portraying House Atreides as an anti-imperial force. While Hellenistic influences on the Atreides are well documented, the director deepens the mythos by integrating overt Celtic imagery. In Dune, Duke Leto is characterized as a classically Greek figure, and in God Emperor of Dune, the Atreides lineage is explicitly linked to the ancient House of Atreus. This Greek heritage is visually underscored in Dune: Part One, where Leto and Paul stand beside the family cemetery—its tombs echoing the pillar tombs of Lycia.
The Celtic aspect, however, brings new symbolic resonance. In Herbert’s universe, the Atreides’ homeworld, Caladan, is likely derived from Caledonia, the Latin name for Scotland. Even the name of one of their most iconic officers—Duncan Idaho—hints at Celtic roots. [7] Villeneuve amplifies this connection by incorporating bagpipes into the ceremonial arrival of the Atreides on Arrakis. As he explained in an interview with The Telegraph, “I’d always seen Atreides as a kind of Celtic people.” [8] The film also introduces spears to the Atreides’ arsenal—absent in the novel but historically associated with Celtic and Hellenic warfare. By contrast, the Harkonnen forces, marching in tight rectangular formations, evoke Roman legions confronting the spear-bearing Atreides—visually reinforcing the conflict between a culturally diverse resistance and a homogenizing imperial force.
Caladan, as described in films and books, is some sort of aquatic world full of fiords and jungles. Villeneuve utilizes this geographical context to present a Homeric Greek setting mixed with Scottish, Chinese, and Filipino elements as part of the House of Atreides in the Imperium. Among the Atreides servants and troops, we can recognize at least two relevant stereotypical Asian characters. One of them, the infamous Doctor Yueh, even has a conversation in Mandarin with Paul Atreides. Yueh is portrayed in the 2021 film as fitting with the trope of the traditional Chinese doctor who knows your vitals just by touching your head with his fingertips. The other character, named Lanville, has an intense fight with Feyd-Rautha in Dune: Part Two. There we can see how the knife fighting technique is derived from the Filipino martial art known as eskrima, a technique already recognizable in the iconic practice fight between Paul and Gurney Halleck in the first film. All blades used by the Atreides during the first film also have a suspiciously Japanese tantō style. For Villeneuve, the good guys must be from small but proud cultures from the corners of the empire. The bad guys, on the other hand, are easily identified with less diversity.
Homogeneity vs. Diversity
The Atreides’ pursuit of diversity extends even further in their alliance with the Fremen. Leto’s plan to integrate these desert dwellers into his political strategy ultimately comes to fruition under his son, Paul. In Dune: Part One, Paul expresses an eagerness early on to connect with the Fremen, telling his father: “I’d like to ask to join Duncan Idaho on his scout mission to Arrakis tomorrow. I’ve studied the Fremen language; I’d be an asset.” Later, in a pivotal moment of trust-building, Paul declares to the Fremen: “The Emperor sent us to this place. And my father came, not for spice, not for the riches, but for the strength of your people. My road leads into the desert. I can see it. If you’ll have us, we will come.”
In Dune: Part Two, Chani hints at the possibility of cultural integration to Paul when she says, “Paul Muad’Dib Usul… maybe you could be Fremen. Maybe I’ll show you the way.” This openness marks a departure from the xenophobic tendencies attributed to Fremen society in Herbert’s novel, where outsiders are treated with suspicion. Given this source material, the challenge for Villeneuve becomes clear: how can the Fremen be rendered sympathetic to modern, global audiences while maintaining their cultural authenticity and narrative role as desert isolationists?
The paradox of Villeneuve’s adaptation is that the Fremen—originally depicted in Herbert’s novel as a culturally homogeneous people—are made to appear more diverse to serve as a second heroic group alongside House Atreides. In the novel, the Fremen are indeed divided into tribes, but they share a cohesive worldview and uniform cultural practices. In the films, however, Villeneuve introduces layered distinctions within Fremen society. Generational differences emerge: younger members are portrayed as less committed to religious fanaticism, while older, more devout individuals are largely concentrated in the southern regions of the planet, where conditions are especially harsh. These southern Fremen speak in a dialect that Chani and other younger northerners regard as humorous—an internal cultural divide that suggests ideological and linguistic fragmentation.
The casting of Javier Bardem, a non-native English speaker, as Stilgar—a deeply religious, southern leader—further accentuates this internal variation, even bordering at times on comic relief. Notably, the film seems to conflate geography, age, dialect, and gender: the less fanatical northerners are generally younger and more likely to be female, creating an oddly deterministic correlation between one’s birthplace and one’s political or spiritual outlook. While this may strain the internal logic of Herbert’s universe, it reflects Villeneuve’s broader effort to depict the Fremen as a dynamic, internally diverse culture—one that resonates more clearly with contemporary values around pluralism and moral nuance.
Homogeneity as Villainy
One of the defining dynamics of the Dune universe is the interplay of alliances and betrayals—the “plans within plans” repeatedly referenced throughout Herbert’s novels and voiced by Lady Margot in Dune: Part Two. In Villeneuve’s cinematic vision, this political complexity is mirrored in cultural representation. To understand how the Atreides and the Fremen are framed on screen, one might invoke the phrase “ethnicities within ethnicities.” In both groups, internal diversity is emphasized as a marker of moral legitimacy and resistance. Tyrannical powers, by contrast, are visually and culturally coded as homogenous.
The Harkonnen, for example, are portrayed as a uniform, hairless, militaristic collective, evoking the oppressive conformity of the Roman Empire. In contrast, the Atreides and the Fremen are rendered as ethnically layered and linguistically varied, embodying the richness and contradictions of pluralistic societies. This binary reinforces the ideological message that moral complexity and diversity go hand in hand, while imperialism flattens identity into uniformity. What remains to be seen, however, is how the narrative will evolve as these once-resistant groups—particularly Paul and the Fremen—assume imperial power themselves. Will they retain their internal plurality, or become the new agents of uniform control?
References
[1] Fernández Martínez, Víctor M. “La idea de África en el origen de la prehistoria española: Una perspectiva postcolonial.” Complutum, no. 12, 2001, pp. 167–84. (p. 171 cited)
[2] Ennaji, Moha. “The Arab World: Maghreb and the Near East.” Handbook of Language and Ethnic Identity: Disciplinary and Regional Perspectives, edited by Joshua A. Fishman and Ofelia Garcia, 2nd ed., Oxford UP, 2010, pp. 407–22. (p. 408 cited)
[3] Jourdan, Annie. “The Image of Gaul during the French Revolution: Between Charlemagne and Ossian.” Celticism, edited by Terence Brown, Rodopi, 1996, pp. 183–206. (pp. 185, 196-201 cited)
[4] Castle, Gregory. Modernism and the Celtic Revival. Cambridge UP, 2001.
[5] Williams, Colin H. “The Celtic World.” Handbook of Language and Ethnic Identity: Disciplinary and Regional Perspectives, edited by Joshua A. Fishman and Ofelia Garcia, 2nd ed., Oxford UP, 2010, pp. 237–54. (p. 237 cited)
[6] Mills, Sophie. “Roman Imperialism: Critics and Aspirants.” A Companion to Roman Imperialism, edited by Dexter Hoyos, Brill, 2013, pp. 333–45. (p. 337 cited)
[7] Note: The character of Duncan Idaho—portrayed by Hawaiian actor Jason Momoa in Villeneuve’s first film—further underscores the Atreides’ multicultural resonance. Beyond Dune, Frank Herbert’s interest in Celtic culture also appears in his novel The White Plague. In that dystopian narrative, a virus devastates the global female population. Among the various societal responses depicted, Irish culture reverts to its Celtic roots, emphasizing themes of female power and paganism. This cultural revival mirrors the symbolic use of Celtic elements in Dune, reinforcing Herbert’s recurring fascination with ethnic identity as a site of both resistance and renewal.
[8] Webster, Laura. “Dune: Why There Are Bagpipes in Denis Villeneuve’s 2021 Adaptation.” The National, 25 Oct. 2021, www.thenational.scot/news/19670875.dune-bagpipes-denis-villeneuves-2021-adaptation/