Okay, here's the deal. The other day, I was having lunch at the Silver Dollar Diner. I was working on my third plate of meatloaf and biscuits (Thursday's special - $4.95 and it comes with rice pudding. Pretty good deal.). Luther Popke, the owner, comes walking over to me, shifts the toothpick in his mouth to the side, and says, "Well, Doc, ever known anything as good as that meatloaf?"

I sat there and thought about it for a couple of forkfuls. Then it came to me. "Yeah," I told Luther, "as a matter of fact, I have. Michael. John Travolta, William Hurt."

Luther looked a little confused, so I had to explain my Movies As Meals Theory. See, I believe every movie is like a meal. Each different than another, but every one feeding the hunger.

Casablanca is a piece of perfection. Prime rib, baked potato with double butter, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and a creme broulee, with a bottle of Merlot and a fat Dominican stogie. Pulp Fiction is a big bowl of spicy chili with cheese and a near-frozen bottle of Coors. It's A Wonderful Life is a Christmas turkey, stuffing, candied yams topped with those little marshmallows, and hot homemade rolls (no cranberry sauce, I hate cranberry sauce).

Of course, not every meal is quite so tasty. Rambo: First Blood Part II was a wad of leftover hamburger and a can of Manwich on Wonder Bread. From Dusk Til Dawn is a strange combination of steak tartare and an El Chico frozen enchilada dinner. The English Patient is a two pound bowl of white rice that has to be eaten with chopsticks, one grain at a time.

And, friends and neighbors, The Fifth Element is indeed a meal unto itself. A box of Cracker Jack and a glass of lukewarm tapwater. A little bit of flavor, a few things that need to be chewed for a long time, and something to ease it on the way down. And, thankfully, if you can get through it, there's a prize hidden inside.

Let's see if I can sort it out for you. Alright, there's this evil force. And it's gonna destroy the universe if some genetically-engineered and fashion-challenged redhead chick doesn't stop it the way she has every 5000 years or so. And this time, Bruce Willis has to help her. Brucie Boy is a futuristic cab driver that catches Superman's kid sister when she lands on Earth. Leeloo, the Wonderbabe, as played by Milla Jovavich, is definitely a treat for the eyes, but she's an actress on par with your average football helmet. A nimble little minx that turns a mean cartwheel but carries the role of heroine of the universe in a big spaghetti strainer.

We get a sloppy dose of Gary Oldman doing his toasted ham sandwich impression, this time with a Boss Hogg accent that grows old quicker than a John Tesh CD. He gets more laughs than usual, but he's still just galloping wild in the pasture. The brand name star here, Bruce, seems like he's on a cakewalk, the occasional wisecrack and a few choice lines, but, mainly, he's doing Die Hard Meets The Jetsons.

Maybe it's just that I expected more from director Luc Besson. I figure he could really take his career to the next level if he'd lose the fascination with teenage actresses and concentrate on logical storylines. I mean, Besson practically invented the cheeky chick that kicks the BeeGees out of everyone (see La Femme Nikita), but he's yet to deliver a plot with substance. I like action as much as the next guy, (heck, probably more than the next guy), yet I just felt cheated out of quality in favor of bright lights and even louder explosions.

The shiny tin whistle at the bottom of the box is a guy named Chris Tucker. He plays a TV host named Ruby Rhod. Ruby's sort of a Robin Leach of the 24th Century, and, played by Tucker, he's the saving grace of this movie. He's a maniac, stealing scenes and using every line he has as an audition for his next ten movies, and, believe me, there will be ten more movies. He's a cannon going off every two minutes, and, personally, I can't wait to see where he goes off next.

So, we get a box of eye candy. Bruce shoots guns and drives crazy. Big surprise. Gary Oldman is Gary Oldman. Milla is a sexy redwood tree that spews white light and defends the Earth. Whee-haa.

Thankfully Chris Tucker whirls in like a Tasmanian Devil, does his bit, and whirls back out, bringing a little light to the tunnel. A sprinkling of effects, a CGI aircar chase scene, and a generous amount of bang-bangs.

You can enjoy The Fifth Element just fine. It's a tame little roller coaster that could have been the Coney Island Cyclone. And, that's the sad thing. It could have been great. It could have been the '90's science fiction happening, like Star Wars was to the '70's (and the '90s again). Instead, it's a jumbled mishmash of old cliches and new effects, sprinkled with some fair performances and one shining star.

Urp. Pass the Alka-Seltzer.