The Fifth Element: A Gloriously Weird Fever Dream (Don't Check My Math)

"Leeloo Dallas Multipass."

— Leeloo (and basically anyone quoting this movie for the last 25+ years)

1. Let’s Be Honest: What Did We Actually Watch?

Ah, The Fifth Element. What a gloriously bizarre, delightfully unhinged movie.

If we're being completely objective film critics wearing pretentious little glasses: is it an undisputed cinematic triumph? Probably not. You don’t see hordes of film bros rioting in the streets demanding The Sixth Element: Korben's Revenge, nor is Hollywood aggressively pitching a gritty 2020s reboot (thank goodness, because nobody needs a dark, desaturated Bruce Willis replacement).

Yet back in 1997, it pulled in ungodly amounts of box office cash. It had neon orange hair, opera-singing blue aliens, Chris Tucker screaming at decibels previously unknown to science, and Gary Oldman rocking plastic skull accessories.

Part of me thinks, “Man, a follow-up could be wild.” But another part of me knows lightning rarely strikes twice in a flying taxi—can that kind of eccentric chaos really work a second time without imploding?

2. The Great Nostalgia Trap

Normally, I try to kick nostalgia straight out of the room when rating movies or TV shows.

Nostalgia is a tricky liar. It convinces people that mediocre things are timeless art, or it makes people angrily trash brand-new stuff simply because it doesn’t taste like whatever Saturday morning cereal they ate in 1998.

Case in point: I have endless, unconditional love for Mighty Morphin Power Rangers.

Cold, hard reality: That show is hot, unadulterated garbage. (Lovable garbage, but garbage nonetheless.)

So yes, I know the rules. You're supposed to evaluate the craft, the screenplay, the pacing.

Except… for this movie, I'm throwing all the rules right out the flying taxi window.

3. Why It Sits at the Very Top of My Throne

Here is my confession: The Fifth Element sits comfortably near—if not at the absolute tippy-top of—my all-time favorite movies list.

And no, it’s not just because of Luc Besson’s wild world-building or Jean-Paul Gaultier’s legendary costume designs. I mean, look: I love this movie so much that I literally named my dog Leeloo. (And yes, she has unlimited multipasses to treat jars.)

The real reason it holds that crown is because it’s the very first movie I remember sitting down and watching with my grandpa.

We didn’t analyze it. We didn’t care about film theory. We just parked ourselves on the couch, took in the neon madness, and fell in love with it together. From that day on, it was our thing. Whenever it popped up while flipping channels on cable, whatever else was happening stopped. The TV stayed on, we sat down, and we watched it. Every single time.

Final Verdict

Can I talk about The Fifth Element with cool, detached, critical objectivity? Not a chance.

Nostalgia didn’t ruin this movie for me—it built the whole monument. It’s strange, it’s campy, it’s colorful, and every single time Korben checks his cab's license points, I’m right back on that couch hanging out with my grandpa.

And honestly? That’s worth way more than a pristine Rotten Tomatoes score.

Final Score: Big Bada Boom. 💥