When Luc Besson’s Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets hit theaters in 2017, it carried the weight of enormous expectations. With a production budget reaching $200 million, it stood among the most expensive independent films ever made. The French director had spent decades dreaming of adapting the beloved comic series that inspired him to create The Fifth Element. Yet despite its groundbreaking visual achievements, the film became a cautionary tale about the risks of betting big on original science fiction properties.
Now, years removed from its disappointing theatrical run that earned just $232 million worldwide, Valerian has found new life through free streaming platforms. This accessibility raises a compelling question: was the film truly the failure critics and box office numbers suggested, or does it represent something more complex—a work of ambitious artistry that simply arrived at the wrong moment? Like the 5,000-year-old fire altar recently discovered that challenges our understanding of ancient civilizations, Valerian may require time and fresh perspective to reveal its true significance.
The streaming renaissance has allowed many overlooked films to find their intended audience. Free from the pressure of opening weekend numbers and theater expectations, viewers can approach Valerian with fresh eyes, judging it purely on its merits as a piece of visual storytelling.
The Spectacular Vision That Couldn’t Find Its Audience
Besson’s commitment to bringing Pierre Christin and Jean-Claude Mézières’ comic universe to life resulted in some of the most imaginative world-building ever captured on film. The opening sequence alone, depicting the evolution of the International Space Station into the massive Alpha station, demonstrates a level of creative ambition that few filmmakers dare attempt. Each alien civilization feels distinctly crafted, from the pearl-diving Mul to the shapeshifting Glamopods.
The technical achievement cannot be understated. The film employed 2,734 visual effects shots across its runtime, creating environments that feel both fantastical and lived-in. Besson’s team built practical sets whenever possible, then enhanced them digitally to create seamless integration between real and computer-generated elements. This hybrid approach gives Valerian a tactile quality that purely digital environments often lack, much like how 20,000-year-old 3D cave etchings combine artistic vision with technical mastery to create lasting impact.
Yet this visual splendor came at a cost beyond the monetary. The film’s pacing suffers under the weight of its own spectacle, with action sequences that prioritize dazzling imagery over emotional stakes. The Big Market sequence, while technically impressive, stretches on without advancing character development or deepening our investment in the central mystery.
The Chemistry Problem and Casting Controversies
Dane DeHaan and Cara Delevingne faced an impossible task. Their characters, Major Valerian and Sergeant Laureline, needed to anchor a film spanning multiple alien worlds while maintaining believable romantic tension. Critics widely noted their lack of chemistry, but the issue runs deeper than simple casting mismatch. The screenplay gives them precious little authentic emotional material to work with.
DeHaan, despite his talent in smaller character studies, struggles with the confident space hero archetype. His naturally introspective presence works against the role’s demands for swagger and authority. Delevingne brings energy to Laureline but fights against dialogue that often reduces her to exposition delivery despite the character’s rich comic book heritage as a pioneering female action hero.
The casting also sparked discussions about Hollywood whitewashing, as many felt the leads should have reflected the film’s international scope and diverse alien populations. This controversy, while peripheral to the film’s quality, contributed to its reception challenges in an increasingly globally conscious entertainment landscape. The film’s treasures remain hidden from many viewers, much like the quarter million statuettes recently discovered near an ancient sarcophagus, waiting for proper recognition.
The Economics of Original Science Fiction
Valerian’s financial failure highlighted the brutal economics facing original science fiction properties. Unlike franchise installments or adaptations of widely known properties, the film needed to simultaneously introduce audiences to its world, characters, and mythology while delivering spectacle worthy of its budget. According to research published by the World Intellectual Property Organization, studios typically require films to earn 2.5 times their production budget to achieve profitability when factoring in marketing costs and theater revenue splits.
“The U.S. movie industry processes excess risk and uncertainty around financing new projects through complex financial structures that often disadvantage original properties” – WIPO film finance research
The film’s international approach, while artistically admirable, may have hurt its commercial prospects. American audiences showed little enthusiasm for a European sensibility applied to big-budget science fiction. Meanwhile, the film’s English-language presentation and Hollywood-style marketing didn’t fully capitalize on Besson’s reputation in international markets.
This commercial disappointment sent ripple effects through the industry. Studies from the Centre for Economic Policy Research show that studios became even more risk-averse regarding original science fiction properties, preferring the safety of established franchises and superhero adaptations. Besson himself stepped back from feature filmmaking, focusing instead on producing and developing his EuropaCorp studio.
The Creative Ambitions Conventional Analysis Overlooks
While mainstream criticism focused on Valerian’s narrative weaknesses and box office performance, it largely missed the film’s more subtle achievements in expanding science fiction cinema’s visual vocabulary. Besson’s approach to alien design prioritizes biological plausibility over familiar humanoid forms, creating creatures that feel like products of genuine evolutionary pressure rather than costume department convenience.
The film’s treatment of environmental themes, while never heavy-handed, presents a nuanced view of ecological destruction and cultural preservation. The Mul civilization’s fate serves as allegory for indigenous peoples displaced by industrial expansion, but Besson avoids simplistic good-versus-evil dynamics. Even the film’s human authorities aren’t purely villainous—they’re trapped within systems that prioritize stability over justice. This layered approach to world-building mirrors the complex strategies revealed in ancient fortifications, where multiple defensive systems worked together to create sophisticated protection.
Perhaps most significantly, Valerian demonstrates how science fiction cinema can embrace genuine strangeness. Modern blockbusters often use alien settings as backdrops for familiar human conflicts, but Besson allows his created worlds to operate by their own logic. The converter creatures, the dimensional marketplace, the memory-sharing pearls—these concepts push audiences to accept genuinely foreign ideas rather than comfortable metaphors for earthbound experiences.
Viewing Valerian now, freed from box office expectations and critical consensus, reveals a film more interested in wonder than commercial formula. Its flaws remain real—pacing issues, dialogue problems, casting misfires—but they exist within a work of genuine ambition. As streaming platforms continue reshaping how audiences discover and evaluate films, Valerian may finally find the appreciation that eluded it during its brief theatrical life. The question isn’t whether it succeeds completely, but whether cinema benefits from filmmakers willing to risk failure in pursuit of something truly original.