The first part of Frank Herbert's celebrated 1965 sci-fi novel is brought to the screen in supremely confident style by Quebecois filmmaker Denis Villeneuve. The director's ability to capture the otherworldly and uncanny in films like Arrival, Blade Runner 2049 and Enemy and his mastery of mood (he's also behind the nail-biting thrillers Sicario, Prisoners and Incendies) make him very much the man for the job. Expertly catering for both the Star Wars and arthouse crowds, it's an exhilarating and scrupulously absorbing opener.

The film begins with the monstrous House Harkonnen ceding control of valuable desert planet Arrakis, known as Dune, by decree of the unseen emperor, who turns its stewardship over to Duke Leto Atreides (Oscar Isaac). It is, of course, a poisoned chalice and when Leto moves his family – including his son Paul (Timothée Chalamet) and concubine Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson) – to the planet, they instantly find themselves in danger.

Stellan Skarsgård plays the oversized and inhuman Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, Josh Brolin and Jason Momoa are House Atreides' weapons and swords masters respectively, acting as mentors to Paul. Javier Bardem pops up as Stilgar, the leader of the cunning sand folk known as the Fremen, with Zendaya as Chani, a young Fremen woman destined to have a more significant role. Further intrigue is created by the presence of witch-like superhumans the Bene Gesserit, represented here by an unimprovably cast Charlotte Rampling, who tests Paul's mettle in a mildly terrifying scene.

Villeneuve succeeds where David Lynch struggled in his overexplained and creatively compromised 1984 adaptation for a number of reasons. Firstly, he has superior effects at his disposal, which are employed expertly but – some key moments aside – seldom ever showily. The gloomy, grainy visuals bring a literal darkness to proceedings, that's at odds with, say, the flashy fantasy of Marvel. This helps ratchet up the feeling of unease and lends the story a gritty credibility, encouraging you to peer deep into the screen and engage with the story. The cast are also superior – the breadth of talent here is impressive, and Chalamet pulls off the difficult job of bringing vulnerability and pathos to a Messiah-like figure. And Villeneuve is less idiosyncratic and more adaptable than Lynch, so probably better placed to interpret another visionary's story in the first place.

There's easily enough here to make the two-and-a-half-hour runtime fly by, thoroughly vindicating the decision to split the book. Villeneuve has held back on the tension, violence and potential scariness of the material (it's been rated 12A here and PG-13 in the US). This does diminish some of the fight scenes, which are a little skirted over, when their ferocity and danger could have been more keenly felt. There were, no doubt, commercial considerations, given the film's status as flagbearer for a new franchise, but it's wonderful that this otherwise boundary-pushing director finds different ways to supply impact, with unusual imagery for example (the looming spectacle of the sandworm, the bizarre sight of Skarsgård's grotesque Baron levitating and emerging from gloop). Thank God he's pulled it off; we need sensational cinema right now, that we can all enjoy, and Dune emphatically delivers.

Available to watch in cinemas from Friday 22 October.