THE FIFTH ELEMENT
A film review by Drew McWeeny
Copyright 1997 Drew McWeeny
This marks my first posting to this newsgroup, and I felt it was time to weigh in on a film that has drawn fairly hotly divided response so far. Also, just to correct a statement made in the Flying Inkpot review of the same film, this is in no way, shape, form, or fashion the "most expensive movie ever made." Even if it were, only a moron would think that the budget of a film is the criteria on which to judge it. If it doesn't affect your ticket price, and no one was coereced into spending the money, then what the hell does a budget matter?
Now... on with the review...
At first, the opening of the film seems odd, comic in an almost old-fashioned way. The doddering old archaeologist, the sleepy little boy, the dashing American artist, sketching it all. Even the threat that's introduced (a treacherous priest, a shot of poison) is old-fashioned. Like Spielberg's classic RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, this film's opening has a warm, old Hollywood glow about it...
... until the spaceship lands.
The robots that climb out of the ship are ominous, threatening, black and metal, with odd angles and dangerous looking attachments. They're truly bizarre, and scare all hell out of everyone on the scene, as well they should. They arrive, and collect four stones, opening a secret chamber to do so. One of the humans, understandably upset by this, opens fire on one of the robots, and we gear up for an action scene in which these menacing metal warriors kick into high gear, tearing up everything and everyone in sight. But, for some reason... they don't. There's no firefight. The action beat we're all primed for from our years of immersion in the rhythms of "event" movies never comes. And that's the first clue that we're in for something a little different with Luc Besson's triumphant, if somewhat flawed, new SF epic, THE FIFTH ELEMENT.
Having seen the film three times now, I can honestly say that I have finally "seen" the film. This is one of the most densely detailed pictures I've seen in quite a while, and it's a deserving entry into the pantheon of classic cinema works of imagination. Although I think I still prefer Besson's LEON to this new film, I was sufficiently dazzled to hail the film for what it is. It's an original vision of the future, and it's a richly imagined world into which the audience is invited.
It was Einstein who said, "God is in the details," speaking of the Universe at large. In the world of SF cinema, details are just as crucial. An audience will only believe in a new world if the filmmaker commits to making it feel as real as possible. Audiences are willing to suspend disbelief if the actors and the filmmakers give it their all, really committing to this other place. Mark Hammill may not be a great actor (having just seen the SW Trilogy on the big screen again, I'm less infatuated with him than ever in the first film), but he does have a gift that made him right for those films. He looked like he lived in that world. The way he used the props, the familiarity with it all, the sheer mundanity he managed to convey all sold that reality. We believe because he believes.
Besson has managed to do that here in fits and starts, and when it works, it's transporting. The New York that Bruce Willis' Corbin Dallas lives and works in is a crowded, noisy metropolis that feels totally familar and wildly exotic all at once. It's the sheer volume of air traffic that sells the illusion, the vision of a world grown up, where there's not a wasted bit of space. Besson doesn't just show his city off, though. In fact, he really doesn't show it to us until it makes sense to. There's no masturbatory establishing shots up front, no long boring pans across the city for no reason other than to show off the design. It's only when the action mandates we see the city that Besson finally shows it to us. It's worth the wait, too. Digital Domain deserves an Oscar nomination for their work here, and the early images from TITANIC suggest another one would be due for that. There's a wonderful texture to Besson's vision of the city, and the fact that it's so colorful and so alive is seductive. It's not the urban hell of BLADE RUNNER. People would still live in this New York. There's still things to enjoy here. In fact, if I have a complaint, it's that we don't get to spend enough time on Earth before leaving.
And leave we do. We get to go on a jaunt to the far edge of explored space, where warships face down a big glowing ball of Evil, which seems to be named Mr. Shadow. We also get to go on a cruise around another planet, onboard a cosmic LOVE BOAT that features a perfect recreation of the London Opera House, where an alien diva gives a transcendent performance in one of the film's most bravura sequences, a marvel of cross-cutting, with a perfect blend of sound and image.
The film ends where it begins, back in Egypt, back in that secret room, with the rocks returning from their journey. It's not a terribly surprising ending, but it's a moving one in many ways. There's not the same kind of shoot-'em-up climax that we've come to expect. In fact, the film's bad guys all sort of take each other out, way before the film ends. The threat is dealt with summarily, and is out of the way before we have a chance to really be threatened by it. The film's weak link is dramatic tension. Besson, whose LE FEMME NIKITA and LEON are both slow fuse firecracker suspense pictures, never really gets us suitably worried over whether or not the rocks will be retrieved. In fact, refreshingly, the good guys stay about two steps ahead of evil the whole way through the film. For once, Good doesn't mean stupid. That's going to frustrate a lot of American audiences. Willis is not the hero we're used to, and it's made all the more strange by the fact that it's Bruce "DIE HARD" Willis we're looking at. This movie's as big a departure for him as PULP FICTION was, no matter how much Columbia tries to sell this as an action film. It's not. It's a journey, with some action here and there along the way. For the most part, Dallas is a reactor, the eyes through which we see these events unfold.
Overall, the performances in this film are a grab bag. Some great, some good, some nearly unwatchable. But the picture is richer for the risks it takes. Milla Jovovich, who's appeared to far less advantage in DAZED & CONFUSED and RETURN TO THE BLUE LAGOON, is marvellous here, brilliant and moving and funny and sexy. The divine language she speaks at the beginning of the movie, a bizarre babble that's indecipherable, is spoken by her with complete conviction, and her quicksilver emotional reactions, ever shifting, are surprisingly well communicated, considering we can't understand her at all. She's "born" in a cloning chamber in a great early scene, using a hand retrieved from a spaceship wreck, and escapes, dragging Willis into all this. She's the driving force of the film, and if Leeloo (her character) doesn't work, then neither does the movie. The person I saw the film with hated the movie, but really liked her work anyway, and I'm predicting she's a major star following this. She easily outdistances the much-overpraised Liv Tyler, who's never had a role half this good.
Ian Holm is very good, but not especially differenct than he is in most films. He's got this bumbling semi-confused character down cold, just as Brion James could play the grizzled, never fully identified military figure who brings Willis back into the fold for one last mission in his sleep. Willis will be accused by many of sleepwalking through this role, but I disagree. I think there's a real laconic ease that he's mastered, and he imbibes Dallas with an unshakable quality that really works for the role. There's a sense of humor to this guy, but it's not all cheap one-liners (the real downfall of Akiva Goldsman's BATMAN & ROBIN script). The audience can laugh with him, not at him. It's a shame Besson keeps returning to one of the film's truly awful ideas, Willis' mother, who only exists as a voice on the phone. She's the stereotypical nagging mother, and pales in comparison to such maternal monsters as Katherine Helmond's Mrs. Lowry in BRAZIL.
Chris Tucker, who was so good in FRIDAY and DEAD PRESIDENTS, may have committed career suicide with his work here. He plays Ruby Red, a ultra-flamboyant radio show host who accompanies prize winner Willis on a cruise around that foreign planet. There is really no way to describe the work he turns in. It's like Little Richard crossed with Nicolas Cage in VAMPIRE'S KISS and PEGGY SUE GOT MARRIED. It's so far out there that you've either got to give in to it, or it will ruin the movie for you. I finally gave in, although I found it grating at times. I commend him for being so game, and for taking the chance. When (and if) he does work again, it's a safe bet it will be in something far more down to earth than this.
Gary Oldman, on the other hand, has officially become the world's most dangerous actor. Nicolas Cage traded the title in when he started taking roles in THE ROCK, CON AIR, FACE/OFF, and SUPERMAN. He's sold out, and hard (I liked FACE/OFF, though, so I'm not complaining that much), leaving Oldman to proceed unchallenged. He plays Zorg, an arms dealer with a thick Southern accent, bizarre plastic hair, and a wicked limp. He also happens to have a simply hysterical gun, introduced in a wonderful scene that recalls all the James Bond/Q sequences, but bigger. There are rumors that there's a sequel to this film already written and ready to shoot (actually, just the other half of the original 400-plus page script) called MR. SHADOW. If that's true, then I'm sorry they killed Oldman's Zorg, who was a great foppish foil, a long slow fuse that never really got to go off with full force.
If you look quickly, there are a number of noteworthy faces that pass by. Bad boy French filmmaker Matthieu Kassovitz (LA HAINE) tries to rob Willis early on in a funny little moment that goes nowhere, like so many of the film's asides. Trip-hop/DJ artist Tricky plays a fairly inconsequential role as one of Oldman's henchmen. Lee Evans, an astonishing physical comedian whose gifts were the highlight of Peter Chesholm's FUNNY BONES, is used to slight effect as a crew member aboard that luxury space cruiser. Some of the quirky casting falls flat, though, with Tiny Lister's turn as The President most notably never coming together.
To sum up, this is a flawed picture, but its flaws only point up what's good about the piece. Besson will no doubt stump many people, even those already familiar with his work. For audiences willing to meet him halfway, though, this is an aural/visual feast with an all-new sensibility.
Drew
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