​Note: this review contains spoilers.
 
I’m not familiar with the French comic this film is based on (Valérian and Laureline) but I am acquainted with director Luc Besson’s previous works. The Fifth Element, Lucy, The Professional, The Messenger—all of these and more are highly stylized films that often fall short on substance. Valerian is no different.
 
The film isn’t without its charms. Valerian is easily the best eye candy I’ve seen in the theater this year. Hell, since Avatar. There is literally so much to see in this film that one cannot possibly manage it in one viewing. But mere spectacle doesn’t make a story. There is a decent plot embedded amidst all the CGI wonders but it unfolds in convoluted fashion. What hobbles the film most is the wooden acting and poor dialogue, especially from the two leads (Dane DeHaan and Cara Delevingne). There was zero chemistry between them, zero sexual tension in what is supposed to be a romantic relationship. I often blame this sort of thing on the director because it is their trade to be able to see this from behind the camera, while watching dailies, and during the editing process. One look would have been all it took to realize ‘hey, this isn’t working’. With a little more direction I believe it could have. One reason this grated on me is that Valerian asks Laureline to marry him during their first scene in the movie. We the audience have just been introduced to them. That’s way too much, too fast. Let us get to know them first.
 
DeHaan’s portrayal of Valerian isn’t bad, but it’s dry. I think he and Besson were going for a professional agent’s demeanor, so perhaps that’s why. If the performance had been slightly more comical, it would’ve worked better. His trip through Big Market was fun, though. Delevingne comes across much better as Laureline because she easily has the funniest moments in the movie. Her rescue of Valerian, and her reaction to his trite peck on the cheek afterward, was quite enjoyable. And the scenes where the alien tries to convince Laureline to wear a certain dress before she’s served up for lunch are great. I loved it when she placed the clairvoyant squid on her head to find Valerian. The film really needed more moments like that.
 
The plot—Valerian and Laureline’s superior destroyed the Pearls’ homeworld years ago and has tried to cover it up—wasn’t what I was expecting, and that’s a good thing. It’s a simple story about doing the right thing. The moral thing. When Valerian agrees to trust Laureline to help the Pearls, that is when their romance actually gains some depth and meaning. Bringing justice to those who commit genocide, and allowing indigenous peoples to live their own way, are two themes that will always remain important.
 
The shape-changing character Bubble (played by Rihanna) was a fun addition and a clever way for Valerian to sneak in and rescue Laureline from a bad situation. But Bubble’s impact is cut short by her death right after their escape. Therefore she might as well have been cut from the narrative. Which is sad, because once it’s revealed she is a slave who feels like she has no identity—no existence past pleasing her master and his customers—I connected to her. It made her one of the more interesting characters in the whole movie. If she had to die, it should have been in the finale. But not this soon.
 
I liked the ending. It wasn’t overblown, save-the-universe sort of fare. Valerian and Laureline expose their commander’s crime, he is arrested, the Pearls depart Alpha on a ship that is a small recreation of their homeworld, and all is well. Only then does Laureline infer she’ll marry Valerian, and their kiss while awaiting rescue is a fine way to conclude the story. It reminded me of the old James Bond film endings, where Bond shares a fling with the femme fatale before returning to his duties. But in this case, this is more than a fling between Valerian and Laureline. They will remain together. They are each other’s partners, friends, and lovers, rather than a token sexual conquest.
 
Some have downplayed the film’s score composed by Alexandre Desplat. I like it. It doesn’t break new ground, and there’s no overall theme that is so catchy you’ll be humming it the next day, but the soundtrack is still good. ‘Pearls on Mul’ stands out for its evocative whimsy, perfect for the young Pearl princess walking through the surf of her homeworld, shyly smiling at young Pearl men with her pet converter on her shoulder.
 
Comparisons to Star Wars aren’t necessarily fair, as Valerian’s source material predates Lucas’s creation, and in turn, may have influenced it.
 
Pros:
 
Valerian has truly impressive, knockout visuals. The alien worlds felt so real I wanted to visit them. I didn’t consider it CGI overload given the setting or story. Mül, the planet of the Pearls, is absolutely beautiful with its seashores, nebula and planets in the sky, and the African influenced-dress of the natives. Big Market, a desert enclosure where one can see into another dimension via special glasses, is grungy, overcrowded, and filled with all manner of species. Alpha, the huge space station referred to in the film’s title, contains so many unique alien cliques as to make the cantina scene from Star Wars appear bland. The 3D version was well worth the extra ticket price. Not since James Cameron’s Avatar have I seen the format utilized so well.
 
There’s a childlike wonder to the film that doesn’t demand anything from the viewer. Valerian is meant to be a thrilling ride through fantastical future landscapes. If one sits back and enjoys it for what it is, Valerian is a positive experience. It’s not plagued with the abysmal plot holes and brain-numbing CGI of the Transformers franchise. It has a moral message without being preachy. Though flawed, it is certainly a work of art.
 
Cons:
 
The acting and chemistry between the two leads is simply off. Some dialogue is just as clunky as what George Lucas wrote for Attack of the Clones. The movie could have been aided greatly by snappier comedic lines and comebacks. This is also true of the supporting cast (though Ethan Hawke’s performance was a lot of fun).
 
Bubble should have lived, received more development, and played a part in the film’s finale. Otherwise, Valerian could have simply infiltrated the alien locale in a different manner and cut down on an already meandering narrative.
 
The plot needed to be streamlined. I get that Besson likes to take unusual paths to get from point A to point B, but this could’ve been done while cutting some things.
 
Two things the film needs: more comedy, more tension. Comedy as in funny dialogue. Tension as far as sexual and the deathly kind. Not tons, but a little goes a long way.
 
Summation: Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets shoots for the stars but lands on the moon. It’s worth seeing at least once on the big screen in 3D. I’m willing to bet it becomes a cult film, with a dedicated fanbase who will enjoy it, warts and all. I’d like to see it again. I’s also like to see a sequel where the two leads are fleshed out better. It is also a reminder that, regardless of how expensive or beautiful a film is, without characters the audience can identify/sympathize with, it will likely fail. And that’s a shame, because Valerian deserves an audience.

​When I was in high school, I noticed my classmates had seemingly changed over the summer and entered the new school year as members of certain cliques. People who’d been friends were now too cool to speak to me. Not a fun place to be. In our society this is a part of growing up, unfortunately. Many people mature out of this phase—but many never do. That is how I see the toxic side of fandom.
 
I was never part of a clique. All I had other than a handful of friends were the science fiction and fantasy books I loved to read, Dungeons & Dragons, and heavy metal music. Little communities I felt part of, separate from those who shunned me in everyday life. I never felt others should be prevented from enjoying these things; the more people I had things in common with, the better. So even though, more than two decades later, I still read SF, still play tabletop RPGs, (my taste in music has since greatly expanded, thankfully), I reiterate that I was never in a clique. A clique is exclusive. It forbids entry to those it considers beneath them. It rescinds membership to any who might be interested but simply doesn’t understand every aspect of said clique’s minutiae.
 
Many of today’s fandoms contain people who view their favorite films, comics, games, or books as just another clique. To hell with the mundanes who assume they are fans. I know most fans aren’t like this, but enough are to become noticeable. Enough to make the rest of us look bad. They remind me of the cliques in high school that regarded themselves as superior to everyone else—with just as much maturity.
 
The current outcry over the 13th Doctor getting cast as a woman, the bitching about Ed Sheeran having a cameo in Game of Thrones Season 7, or the vitriol regarding Idris Elba portraying the Gunslinger in the new Dark Tower movie—it all sounds like a bunch of children squabbling over a pie they have always claimed is available to everyone. Star Trek fans say their fandom represents that future utopian society yet some complain when two women of color are cast in the lead roles for the new show Discovery. Star Wars fans love to imagine battling an evil empire in a galaxy featuring countless alien species, but some got butthurt when a POC was cast as a stormtrooper in The Force Awakens. And don’t get me started on the comics industry.
 
A lot of this can be blamed on simple bigotry and misogyny. Racism and sexism are alive and well in the 21st century, but often in places no one would have suspected. But the more I talk to other writers, the more I learn that this behavior has went on for quite some time. Since I wasn’t among those typically shunned from SF (women, people of color, LGBT people), I never realized how deep some of this went. It’s certainly made me rethink how I see the SF genre and the things I’ve enjoyed for years. How my interest and involvement in them has never been questioned, while the inclusion of others is.
 
Hey, I get it. You bonded with a certain movie, story, or character that helped you understand yourself and provided insulation from the horrors of the world outside. Something that seemed truly yours, that only you understood. This thing has been there for you when nobody else was. When you laid alone at night, shunned by all else, you still had this one thing that offered comfort and escape. There’s nothing wrong with that.
 
Telling someone else they can’t have the same thing is not only wrong, it’s hypocritical. It’s selfish. It reveals a lack of empathy, for if this one thing gives you comfort, you wish to keep others from feeling the same. Where you might have turned to fandom to deal with the sanctimoniousness of other cliques, you have contributed to the very same behavior. You assume this identity is yours alone, and all others are thieves, pretenders, or those wishing to use that identity to further a political agenda. But if you’re the one complaining, or trying to prohibit others from finding solace in what you like, you’re the one with the agenda.
 
The easy thing is to tell these people ‘you should live up to the ideals of your heroes’. That they missed the true message behind Star Trek, Steven Universe, Doctor Who, and others. Sometimes you block them on social media, and in some cases that can’t be avoided. But they never learn what their real problem is as a result.
 
The real problem is that they don’t understand—or accept—that their hero, their ideal, their one shining thing, can inspire and comfort someone else. Not just them. No single person, group, or community owns these fictional worlds and characters. They belong to all of us. It doesn’t matter if their gender or skin color changes. As long as these worlds and characters remain true to what they represent, what they inspired, then nothing has fundamentally changed. They are the new mythology and change with the times.
 
They change because we do. Because some of us need them to.