You remember that scene. The one where a bunch of hulking, dog-faced mercenaries in combat gear start blasting away at a luxury space liner while looking like they haven't bathed since the dawn of time. Those are the Mangalores. Honestly, when people search for the monster from Fifth Element, they’re usually thinking of these ugly, lovable losers or the looming, existential dread that is Mr. Shadow. Luc Besson’s 1997 masterpiece didn't just give us a bright, orange-haired Milla Jovovich; it gave us creature designs that actually felt like they had weight, grime, and a pulse.
It’s weird. In an era where every Marvel villain is a smooth, purple CGI mass, the practical effects of The Fifth Element feel more "real" now than they did thirty years ago. Nick Dudman and his creature shop weren't just making masks. They were building characters. The Mangalores aren't just generic space-beasts; they’re a displaced warrior race, fallen from grace and working as hired muscle for a corporate psychopath because they're basically out of options.
The Mangalores: More Than Just Grunting Mercenaries
If you’re looking for the definitive monster from Fifth Element, the Mangalores take the prize for screen time. They’re officially known as the Mangalore species, hailing from the planet Mangala. Besson didn’t want them to be sleek. He wanted them to be gross. They have these bulbous, sensitive-looking eyes and skin that looks like a topographical map of a swamp.
What most people get wrong is thinking they’re just mindless villains. They’re actually a tragic bunch. According to the lore established in the film’s production notes and the Story of the Fifth Element book, the Mangalores were once a proud warrior race that got utterly humiliated in a war with the Humans. By the time we meet them in the 23rd century, they’re scavengers. They’re pirates. They’re the guys who bring a gun to a negotiation and still find a way to lose.
The practical builds for these guys were insane. We’re talking full-body suits and animatronic heads. The actors inside those suits were sweating through layers of foam latex. It shows. When a Mangalore gets shot or expresses frustration, there’s a physical presence that a digital render just can't replicate. Their leader, Aknot, is a perfect example of this. Despite being a "monster," he has a distinct personality—vengeful, slightly incompetent, and weirdly loyal to his kin.
The Great Evil: Is Mr. Shadow a Monster or a Planet?
Then there's the other monster from Fifth Element. The big one. The one that literally calls Jean-Baptiste Emanuel Zorg on the phone and makes him leak black goo from his forehead.
Mr. Shadow.
Is it a monster? Sorta. Is it a planet? Basically.
The Great Evil is described as an anti-life entity that appears every 5,000 years. It’s not "evil" in the way a slasher villain is evil; it’s more like a cosmic reset button. It’s a mass of dark matter that grows stronger with every attack thrown at it. This is the ultimate subversion of the 90s action trope. Usually, if a giant monster is coming toward Earth, you hit it with a nuke. In The Fifth Element, hitting it with a nuke just makes it bigger.
Why Mr. Shadow Scares Us More Than the Mangalores
- It’s Unstoppable: You can't punch it.
- The Psychological Toll: It influences the weak-minded (like Zorg) from across the galaxy.
- The Visuals: It looks like a burning, necrotic sun.
The design of the Great Evil was handled by legendary comic book artists Jean "Moebius" Giraud and Jean-Claude Mézières. These two guys basically invented the "lived-in" sci-fi aesthetic that Star Wars later borrowed. When they sat down to design the Great Evil, they didn't want a guy in a suit. They wanted something elemental. Something that felt like the personification of the heat death of the universe.
The Mondoshawans: The "Good" Monsters
We can't talk about the monster from Fifth Element without mentioning the Mondoshawans. Are they monsters? Technically, they’re aliens, but to a casual viewer, they look like giant, gold-plated tortoises. They’re the protectors of the Five Elements, and they are arguably the most elaborate costume designs in the entire film.
These suits were so heavy that the actors inside had to be supported by internal rigs. They moved with this ponderous, slow-motion grace that made them feel ancient and holy. It’s a stark contrast to the jittery, violent movements of the Mangalores. It’s visual storytelling at its best: the "good" aliens are rounded, metallic, and slow, while the "bad" aliens are jagged, fleshy, and chaotic.
Why Practical Effects Won the War
You’ve probably noticed that movies from the late 90s either look like garbage now or they look incredible. There is no middle ground. The Fifth Element looks incredible because it leaned into the tactile.
When a Mangalore shapeshifts into a human, the effect is a mix of digital morphing and physical makeup. When Zorg’s pet, Picasso—that weird, trunk-nosed creature—scuttles across the desk, it’s a puppet. These things have shadows that fall naturally on the set. They have textures that react to the lighting of the room.
Digital effects have come a long way, but the "uncanny valley" is still a problem. We know, instinctively, when something isn't "there." Because the monster from Fifth Element was actually on the soundstage in London, the actors—Bruce Willis, Gary Oldman, Milla Jovovich—could actually interact with them. Gary Oldman isn't talking to a tennis ball on a stick; he’s talking to a massive, snarling animatronic. That changes the performance. It makes the world feel claustrophobic and dirty in a way that green screens can't simulate.
The Legacy of the Creature Design
Jean-Baptiste Emanuel Zorg might be the human face of the villainy, but the creatures are the soul of the film's world-building. The Mangalores became so iconic that they've popped up in countless "best alien" lists over the last few decades.
They represent a specific moment in cinema history where the budget was massive ($90 million in 1997 was a lot!) and the director was crazy enough to spend a huge chunk of it on rubber suits and intricate puppetry. If this movie were made today, the Mangalores would be 100% CGI. They’d probably look more "realistic" in terms of muscle fiber and skin pores, but they’d lose that weird, physical soul.
How to Deep Dive Into the World of 23rd Century Creatures
If you’re obsessed with the design of these creatures, there are a few things you should actually do to see how the sausage was made.
First, track down the "Making Of" documentaries that were included on the Ultimate Edition DVD or the 4K Blu-ray. Seeing the puppeteers cram themselves into the Mondoshawan suits is a lesson in claustrophobia. Second, look up the concept art by Moebius. You’ll see that the monster from Fifth Element was originally even weirder. Some designs for the Mangalores looked more insectoid before they settled on the canine-mercenary look we know today.
Actionable Steps for Fans and Creators:
- Study the Silhouettes: Notice how every creature in the film has a distinct shape. You can tell a Mondoshawan from a Mangalore just by their outline. This is a masterclass in character design.
- Watch the "Diva Plavalaguna" Scene Again: While she’s not a "monster," the Diva is a peak example of blending prosthetic makeup with a human performer to create something truly otherworldly.
- Support Practical Effects: Check out the work of modern studios like Spectral Motion or Studio Gillis. They’re keeping the tradition of the Mangalores alive in an industry obsessed with pixels.
- Read The World of The Fifth Element: It's out of print but usually available on used book sites. It contains the most detailed lore on why the Mangalores were exiled and how Mr. Shadow functions as a sentient void.
The monsters in this movie weren't just there to be scary. They were there to make the universe feel crowded, messy, and ancient. Whether it’s a Mangalore failing to understand how a bomb works or the Mondoshawans being politely slow, these creatures are what turned a standard sci-fi flick into a timeless cult classic.