Another sensommer viewing of this marvellously mental movie (accidental alliteration).
It exists entirely within its own orbit and every frankly daft facet of it works because it’s congruent with the overriding narrative of stylised stupidity.
A feast for the eyes, the ears, … maybe not the brain when Chris Tucker is screaming. There is not a dull moment in this fervidly imaginative slice of peak Luc Besson, the pioneer of cinéma du look.
And Eric Serra should have done more film scores.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 