“Directed by Luc Besson, The Fifth Element is one of the most gloriously maximalist sci-fi films ever made — neon-soaked, operatic, absurd, romantic, and somehow deeply sincere beneath its chaos. Where many science-fiction epics aim for gritty realism, Besson leans into comic-book spectacle and heightened theatricality, creating a universe that feels both futuristic and strangely playful.
Set in the 23rd century, the film follows Korben Dallas (Bruce Willis), a former elite soldier turned reluctant flying-cab driver, whose mundane life is interrupted when a mysterious orange-haired woman quite literally crashes into it. That woman is Leeloo (Milla Jovovich), a genetically engineered “supreme being” who may be humanity’s only hope against an ancient cosmic evil.
From its opening desert prologue to its vertical megacity sprawl, The Fifth Element embraces bold design. The production aesthetic — heavily inspired by French comic artists Moebius and Jean-Claude Mézières — is a riot of color and exaggerated silhouettes. Costumes by Jean-Paul Gaultier push the film further into fashion-fantasy territory. Everything is heightened: the architecture, the performances, the humor. It’s sci-fi as pop opera.
And then there’s Jean-Baptiste Emanuel Zorg, played with delicious menace by Gary Oldman. Zorg isn’t just a villain; he’s corporate greed personified, equal parts buffoon and tyrant. His monologues are theatrical and philosophical in the strangest way:
“If you want something done, do it yourself.”
Oldman commits fully to the absurdity, giving us one of sci-fi’s most flamboyant antagonists. Yet for all the comic exaggeration, the film’s emotional core remains surprisingly earnest.
Bruce Willis plays Korben as a man exhausted by existence — gruff, cynical, yet ultimately decent. When Leeloo asks him the meaning of life, he shrugs:
“I only know one thing: I want to win.”
That line encapsulates the film’s tonal blend of sarcasm and sincerity. Beneath the explosions and slapstick lies a simple idea: survival isn’t enough — love is the missing element.
Milla Jovovich’s performance as Leeloo is central to the film’s magic. Speaking in a constructed “Divine Language,” she conveys innocence, curiosity, and sudden ferocity with physicality more than dialogue. Her childlike wonder at human culture contrasts sharply with the violence she witnesses. In one of the film’s most powerful scenes, she watches footage of humanity’s wars and quietly asks, “What’s the use of saving life when you see what you do with it?” For a movie this flamboyant, that moment lands with unexpected gravity.
The opera sequence remains iconic. The blue alien diva, Plavalaguna (Diva Plavalaguna), performs an otherworldly aria that transitions into a pulse-pounding techno remix as Leeloo battles attackers in intercut action choreography. It’s operatic in every sense — music, violence, spectacle colliding into something uniquely cinematic.
And then there’s Chris Tucker as Ruby Rhod (Ruby Rhod), the hyperactive media personality whose shrieking charisma adds another layer of tonal daring. His rapid-fire energy could have derailed the film, yet instead it amplifies its commitment to flamboyance. Few big-budget sci-fi films would dare this level of camp.
Ultimately, The Fifth Element works because it never apologizes for its excess. It understands that science fiction can be fun without being shallow. Its message — that love is humanity’s defining power — might sound naïve, but Besson frames it without irony. In the final act, when Leeloo hesitates to save the world, it’s not heroism that convinces her — it’s connection.
“Love.”
Simple. Direct. Unembarrassed.
Nearly three decades later, The Fifth Element remains singular. It’s not dystopian. It’s not grounded. It’s not subtle. It’s vibrant, strange, romantic, and unapologetically bold — a reminder that sci-fi can be both cosmic and colorful, philosophical and ridiculous.
Multipass? Always.”
