The Fifth Element

Luc Besson's film aspires to the sophomoric but barely attains the puerile. It's the 23rd century in a New York City that looks like Gotham City badly renovated by the designers of Toon Town. Bruce Willis is Korben Dallas, retired special-forces major and current driver of one of the countless sausagy taxis that fill the concrete canyons of the city and look as if they should have Astro yapping in the backseat. One morning an autistic woman with orange hair and dressed in band-aids falls through his roof. She's Leeloo (Milla Jovovich), a/k/a "The Fifth Element," the "perfect" one (i.e., she takes her shirt off at every oportunity) whom God sends forth every 5000 years when the evil powers of destruction start acting up.

She's pursued by Zorg (Gary Oldman in his worst performance), a corporate mogul in the pay of the bad guys; Cornelius (Ian Holm, juggling a role that combines the priest in The Exorcist, Obi Wan Kenobi, and Moe of the Three Stooges), keeper of the cheesy cult that's supposed to enact the Stargate-like ritual that saves the universe; and the usual government morons. Witlessly stealing from every sci-fi movie that's made a buck, from Metropolis to Independence Day, Besson seems to think plagiarism is okay if you make a dumb joke about it -- like having a fat virago sport Princess Leia's buns.

Long before the insanely irritating Ruby Rhod (Chris Tucker), a RuPaul/Dennis Rodman/Oprah Winfrey media nightmare, struts on screen, you know that any laughs are going to be rueful at best. Misogynist and racist, Element also deigns to be religious, and those with any faith will be the most offended. After doing much to reduce French cinema to a second-rate clone of bad Hollywood, Besson is seeking to expand to America. Merci non, Luc, we have enough big-budget, no-brain hacks here already. At the Harbour Mall, Narragansett, Showcase, Starcase, Tri-Boro, and Woonsocket cinemas.

-- Peter Keough